Sometimes Not Running Is Harder Than Running

After kicking the other two guys to the curb, my Hulk self returns to the computer to review a PhD thesis.

Despite knowing that my last long run before the big race this coming weekend was due to an epic eating failure on my part, and knowing full well that I need to take the next 5 days to rest my legs, I spent the bulk of the day annoyed with myself for being so stupid yesterday. Not only that, but a significant portion of my thoughts were devoted to an internal debate:

Evil Dan: You should run today to make up for yesterday’s failure. I mean really, it’s the only way to redeem yourself. Otherwise you’re just a great big wuss-bag who let a potential yarfing, weakness, and dizziness get in the way of you and a full run. I mean, really – unless you’re dead you should have kept running. 

Not-Evil-At-All Dan (spoken all whisper like): I don’t think that’s a good idea. And I really didn’t feel well.

Not-So-Evil Dan: No! No matter how fat and gross and lazy you feel right now – no running. Okay, no more than 12 km. I mean you do feel fat and gross and lazy after all.

Evil Dan (laughing snidely): Pffffft. Twelve kilometres? That’s not even a challenge. You might as well not even run if you’re only going to do 12. You really should run at least a half-marathon, otherwise you’re just half-ass’ing it. In fact, for being a suck about it, you should probably run at least 24. 

Not-Evil-At-All Dan (the rage quietly building): Um, who said I was being a suck?

Evil Dan: Oh, you’re totally being a suck about it. You’re not even willing to do 12. 

Not-So-Evil Dan: Ya, no kidding. Wuss. 

Not-Evil-At-All Dan (the Hulk rage building): NO NO NO NO NO NO NO! Shut up! Shut up! Shut up! Shut up! Shut up! SHUT UP! I’m in charge here. You two – shut it. Now you – Gillis – go eat something. And while you’re at it, drink some water.

[Not-So-Evil Dan and Evil Dan make a hasty exit, while Not-Evil-At-All Dan pumps his hulk-sized chest in victory.]

Yes, there are apparently at least 3 versions of my conscience. Two of them are clearly on the wicked side of the spectrum, the other not so much. That version – the latter of the 3 – is like the Hulk. At first he’s all quiet like and such, but push him too far and he erupts in a green-Hulk like rage. Of course all of this goes on in my head unbeknownst to those around me.

And so this went, all day, as if on repeat. Every time the Hulk had to burst forth and kick those other two versions of myself to the curb, they would slowly creep back when I was distracted by such things as reading a PhD thesis, finishing one grant proposal, working on another, or attending meetings. They really are persistant little bastards. Fortunately I stuck to my guns – that is, the Hulk version of me kept the upper hand.

Now I just have to keep doing this for the rest of the week as I rest for the big race. Sadly, this is far easier said than done.

2 Comments Add yours

  1. Rick says:

    That’s quite the inner conflict!

    1. dangillis says:

      I’m a complex man, Rick.

      Wait. No. Not complex. Weird.

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