Most people loathe taper. Questions bubble to the surface. Second guessing, self-doubt, and anxiety tend to run rampant.
There's a tendency to dwell on missed runs, missed workouts, and missed chances. Minutiae is examined and scrutinized. The significance of any misstep is over ascribed.
The recognition that perfection was not achieved haunts. The desire to make amends at the eleventh hour creeps in. Irrational acts are sometimes committed.
I've seen normally sane, rational people do unspeakably inexplicable things while in taper. Taper can loosen one's grip on sanity. Taper is an albatross for most.
For me, taper has always been a gift. It's a reward. It's a vacation at the end of a long and arduous journey.
When I wake up flat with no interest in running, it's the taper on the horizon that keeps me going. When fatigue permeates every fiber of my being, it's the knowledge that taper is close that keeps me on my feet. Taper is a blessing.
The arrival of taper is blissful. Sedentary and perhaps even slothful behavior is tolerated in taper. Taper includes additional sleep and no shortage of naps.
While my diet is never as great as it should be, I'm a bit more self-indulgent during taper. I've earned it. Cheeseburgers may appear a bit more frequently during taper.
Kinks that have been neglected get the attention they need. Adhesions get broken down. General maintenance is performed.
Rather than dwell on shortcomings in my training, I revel in the successes. I've worked hard. I've done the work.
In the waning days of taper, I sharpen my mental spear. I read about Ernest Shackleton. I seek stories of those who have battled incredible odds and overcome.
I will soon be confronted with a battle of my own. It's one I am ready to win. I run because I love taper...