Runner Regrets

I’ve regretted a lot of things in my life:

  • Mentioning every single one of Lucille’s ailments while on the phone with her prospective pet health insurer.
  • Skipping Mitch Hedberg’s October 2004 show in Portland, convinced I’d get the chance to see him another time.
  • This haircut.

(Which I rocked for far too many years.)

But you know what I’ve never once regretted? A run.

I’ll be honest – it doesn’t take much to talk me out of a workout. It’s raining? I’ll just wait til tomorrow. It’s icy? I’ll just wait til it melts. It’s scorching? I’ll just wait til global warming ends.

But you know what? Even though forgoing a morning run feels good for about five indulgent minutes – when instead of lacing up, I make some coffee or scramble some eggs or climb back into bed – it quickly turns to regret. I don’t know about you, but I’ll spend the rest of the day wondering if I could’ve squeezed in a few quick miles, or imagining that I’ll head to the gym after work – which, let’s be honest, is always a lie. When I walk through that apartment door at 7 p.m. and my tiny lapdog climbs into my arms, it’s clear I’m not going anywhere. The refrain is constant: I should’ve run when I had the chance.

Feel free to print this motivational poster for your office.

Skipping a run that I could have done is probably the second worst feeling in the world for a runner. The worst? Skipping a race that I could have done. And not just any race: one that passes directly in front of my house.

That happened to me last year: by the time I learned about the Rhinebeck Hudson Valley Half Marathon, there wasn’t enough time to train, so I had to sit in the rain on my front porch and just watch it go by like the world’s saddest parade.

I vowed never to let that happen again, so when I saw that next Monday’s local Labor Day 10K goes by our house not once but twice, I knew what I had to do, even though I haven’t logged more than five miles at a time since May and my main speed work these days is running to the nearest soft serve parlor. In fact, you could say the only kind of fitness I’ve been doing this summer is “fitness entire bottle of rosé in my mouth.” Jokes.

Photo credit: my enabler sister in law

Come Monday morning, I’m sure I’ll want to hit the snooze button and roll back over on a precious day off, but I’m going to toe that starting line anyways. Because even if I briefly regret registering for a sweaty, hilly, 6.2-mile slog, I’ll surely regret not doing it even more. And that’s what Labor Day is all about — right?

What’s your running regret?

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