Okay, I know I've been observing a ban on cheesy Christmas music, but every rule deserves to be broken once.
And yesterday, I did something that actually caused a bit of a panic attack.
I signed up for a 5k run.
Way back when, 'bout 50 weeks ago, I made it a goal that I would run (not walk) a 5k. Smiling, even. Well, I'm going for it. Of course, I'm not quite through the whole couch-to-5k schedule, but in two weeks, I'm scheduled to run for 25 minutes. I figure I can do that during the First Run 2010 run. That way I can maybe salve my conscience about not getting in all the bicycling I wanted to do this year.
The run/walk starts January 1st at Midnight, Portland time, which might seem like it doesn't meet my goal of running this year. However, my new rule is that all goals set for the year are based on Maui time. That means I will still meet my goal to run (okay mostly run) a 5k within the year.
All of the above seems perfectly logical to me (albeit in a slightly twisted fashion, which is par for the course in Merry-land). I did it proper: signed up online before I could change my mind, then told two co-workers so that I couldn't back out. Then spent the rest of the day quivering and angsting.
Why on earth did I go into a panic attack after I signed up for this race? I have no idea. It makes no sense, not even twisted sense. So what if for some reason I don't run every single step of this 5k? Will the world come to an end? Will I get fed up and stop exercising completely? Neither of these two things seems very likely to me, at least not to my conscious mind. My subconscious clearly has a different idea about these things.
Well, if the world comes to an end at New Year's, you have my permission to blame me. I'll understand. Or at least my subconscious will.
Exercise du jour: Yoga. Lots and lots of nice, calming yoga. With lots of deep breathing.
Fail. Third headache in a week.