Caesura

Being the songbird of a generation – like Lennon and Lewis before me – is a heavy burden to bear. Expectations. EXPECTATIONS?!? It’s impossible to live up to everyone’s expectations. But somehow I do. Just ask yourself when you’ve ever been disappointed at F.M.S. Okay, maybe those few times – hell, maybe even regularly – but that’s not the point…entirely.

The point is everyone needs a break. Even songbirds. Even songbirds of a generation. After three straight months and a complete 2010 of not missing a planned run, the streak died on Sunday. I foreskinned that this might happen in the previous post.

In musical terms, a caesura is a break or brief pause. Often the orchestra builds to a dramatic point, stops briefly and then resumes. When pulled off correctly, it can be quite striking and memorable and adds to the effect of the music.

We were at the in-laws for Easter. My filly was excited to see what the bunny brought her. My twelve year old colt, on the other hand, sat on the couch with feigned nonchalance refusing to find his basket. We are that age now with him. Middle school and Justin Bieber haircuts. Ripsticks and backward hats. Attitude and non-gratitude. <- see? Songbird!

Dinner ran late. The only thing being resurrected yesterday was my anger for jeopardizing my long run. (Bible humor! Songbird! Hey, sometimes a SoaG can be a little tacky.) However, the truth is that I came down with a cold at the end of last week that had me croaking like Barry White and slurping on Halls cough drops like Amy Winehouse with the new Lifesaver Crystal Meth flavor. By the time we supped and ascended home, it was near dark. I went all diva wrapping my neck in a scarf and proclaiming there was simply no way I could run under these conditions. And get the m%*$#@*ing red Gu packets out of the bowl of Gu or someone’s ass would get fired!

And so I went to bed neck all bound in scarf wearing my eye shades and flowing robe. No run. Not even a single, solitary mile. Planned 14 mile long run? Missed.

Thank goodness it was a cut back week.

By Monday morning, I already started feeling bad. Like I betrayed my training plan. I got so wrapped up in excuses – whether it be Easter or my cold – that I got a bit Iscarioted away. (clever, no?) I thought I’d just make it up Monday night but….no, the rest of the week is pretty busy. I decided to write the long run off as Easter collateral damage. Mentally, I tucked it away and closed the door with a giant mental boulder.

Everyone needs a break. A caesura can be good from time to time. Especially when you over dramatize it like I'm doing. The only expectation to meet is my own. So onward we march…

The caesura ends today. It’s been two days since I missed my long run. (That’s right, not three days, but two days. Scoreboard!) Back in the shoes I go ready to chirp another tune. My first twenty miler of this training season is at hand.

I’m rubbing my psalms together just raring to go. Don’t be afraid to take a little break. Miss a run. Restore some vigor and motivation. It can be good for the mind and sole. Then, hear my song, and get back out there.

Or maybe I’m just preaching to the choir.

Happy trails.

Note: I've mentioned this before but, to those of you new here, every post on F.M.S. is intended to be sung to the jolly, lilting melody of Wheels on the Bus. If you are not doing so, then you are missing the full effect. Go back to the top and sing the post again.

Also, if you read the posts backward, you can make out 'Pre is Dead' in every one. These posts won't sync up to Wizard of Oz ala Pink Floyd's Dark Side of the Moon, but, if read end to end, will sync to Me, Myself, & Irene.
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