Looking into the Abyss

"Man looks in the abyss, there's nothing staring back at him. At that moment, man finds his character. And that is what keeps him out of the abyss."

Pathetic.

Pitiful.

Candy Ass.

I'm all of these things and more. I started this blog to hold myself accountable for all of my fleet footed actions for a measly 25-weeks out of my life. While I've had no problem patting myself on the back for some things over the first two months, I haven't been nearly as critical for some lapses in manhood.

Until today.

I've let myself, the legions (all 7) of faithful followers, and the running gods down this week. After being all gung-ho at the start of the season, I have basically quit. I've quit on myself, on my fans and most importantly on the October morning that is sure to live in infamy. I ran a total of seven miles last week. That's right. Seven. I ran 3.5 mile on Tuesday and Wednesday and then blew off the rest of the week. I blew off the 3 mile run for Thursday because of a little rain and a few puddles. I blew off the Niantic 10k on Friday because of a little interview. I blew off the Blum Shapiro 5K on Saturday because of a little beauty sleep. I blew off the Litchfield Hills 7-miler on Sunday because of a little, er, big headache. I need to find that handsome voice in the back of my head that says, "I jus' can't quit you!"

So what does a man-boy do when he comes to that fork in the road?

Does he choose to be Michael or does he choose to be Fredo?

Does he find that Spartan Spirit or does he turn to a life consumed by an assortment of spirits?
The answers to these questions will basically determine success or failure in both running and life. I don't have the answers this morning. I only have a pair of unlaced, sad and dry Brooks and an underutilized, silent I-pod that are screaming to be shown some love and attention. At this point, I can only stumble home, in the wee hours of the day, and beg for forgiveness and pray they will take me back.