If I start doing backflips off of buildings, it's probably been a couple days since I've worked out.

Getting motivated to work out alone in sub-30 degree weather has a way of evoking philosophical and psychological turmoil.

Translation: I want to work out, but I don’t. And I feel like I have to, but who would know if I didn’t? Being an athlete is about doing what you’re told: Go to practice. Do your lifting. Run faster. So when a month-long break comes around, it’s like a kid’s first time home alone. It can be overwhelmingly…free.

Unfortunately, that freedom lasts for about 2.5 hours before I’m struck by what I’ll call “runner’s remorse.” As it turns out, guilt is a great motivational tool. It starts with the thought: I need to run. Then it becomes physical with the muscle twitching, the guilty butterflies and the random acts of athleticism (i.e. running up the stairs extra fast or jogging to the car). Before I know it, I’m trying to run on snow and ice, slipping around with wind tears and snot freezing to my face.

For athletes, a long break like this is the ultimate test of how much you want success in your sport. That runner’s remorse is telling me that this is what I want. I want to run track, and I want to be good at it. However, with three semesters left of school, my impending life without track is sneaking into mind. With no scheduled practices or lifting, that life is becoming more real. Balancing current obligations with thoughts of the future is proving to be more difficult than I expected.

I guess it’s a matter of taking it one day at a time. Worrying about what I can do now to be successful makes life so much more tolerable. And peeling my butt off the couch and working out is worth getting rid of these guilty butterflies that are currently eating my stomach.

So on that note, I’m going on a run.

It's not just the gradient fill on the titling; that's pure awesomeness you see. It was almost four years ago, but whatever. State champs '06 baby!

It’s possible with this time vortex we call “Winter Break.” The limited contact with college friends and the nagging obligation to work out are the only reminders that you are still a Division-I student-athlete. For an entire month, you go home and spend time with friends from high school.

And when some of your best friends at home are former track teammates, the conversation goes something like this:

“We were so good.”

“I know. And we worked so hard.”

“It was the perfect combination of people at the right time.”

“…I wonder if I’m still fast.”

And we’re back to reality. It’s not like it isn’t true; we were good. My junior year, our track team won state in the highest division. The 4×400-meter relay on which my sister and two close friends competed won back-to-back state titles. We won a third after the two older girls graduated. At one point, each one of us knew what it was like to be the best.

But now, the floodgates have opened our little pond to the ocean of the real world, and boy do I feel small. Not only am I far from the best in the NCAA (the college version of state), but I am also one of the few high school teammates who still runs track. Each time we reunite, our reminiscence becomes more jaded. And at 20, I feel old.

Hence the dangers of living in the past. It’ll suck the life from you. I have two seasons left, different teammates and new goals. That’s no reason to feel like some washed-up, has-been child star who frequents reality TV shows on VH1. All I can do now is be better, aim higher.

I’m not saying I won’t reminisce. Everyone has something they hold on to–don’t you? Those are memories I’ll cherish forever.

After all, we were freakin’ awesome.

Now we might get a new sponsor for our clothes and shoes. That means new stuff (yes!), and the new sponsor is much more tailored our sport than the current one. Granted, all we get to keep are a couple t-shirts and our running shoes, but that doesn’t take away from the awesomeness of new gear.

But there’s a catch.

For a new sponsor, we’d have to cut back the budget in other areas. Shoes could come at a price of a meet in California. Sweats might cost a couple teammates’ spots on the travel roster.

This problem simply doesn’t arise at larger schools. Not only do they get a ton of sweet stuff—and keep it—but they host the cool meets in which we want to compete (besides Drake Relays—go Drake!). Because they have bigger programs, they have the luxury to travel and get plenty of gear.

I realize that’s just the nature of college sports. Until we bring home some national championships, we can’t have it all. To me, the chance to get out of Midwest springtime and compete in warmer weather seems better than new stuff. Unless they’re snow boots, new shoes aren’t much use in 30-degree weather and snow showers anyway.

So I guess I’m torn. If you had to choose between better training gear or a warmer travel schedule, what would it be?

Wait a minute. Am I dreaming? Division I athletes don’t take breaks.

The reminder comes in the form of a 7 a.m. text from my coach. Today’s workout: 15 one-minute runs with 30 seconds rest.

Training through breaks is expected for athletes. Just because school’s out doesn’t mean your fitness takes a timeout. Staying in shape and working out through vacations means staying ahead of the competition.

I was fully aware of this when I closed my cell phone that morning in Vegas. And still, I made a conscious decision not to work out. After 6 weeks of 7 a.m. lifting four times a week and 6:30 a.m. practice on Fridays, I was ready for a break.

While it’s hard to do, overtraining is detrimental for any athlete’s performance. I wasn’t worried about that. But the mental grind of working out – even for 22.5 minutes – takes the break out of any vacation.

Deciding not to work out on my vacation is like a businessman leaving his work cell at home. He knows he’s missing calls just like I know my competitors probably worked out, but the need for a mental break trumped any guilty feelings.

Practice started again today and I survived. No harm done by my five days off; not any that I know of anyway. Have you taken a break lately? If you haven’t, try it – you won’t regret it.

But once I round the first curve, I remind myself of the sick truth:

I love this sport.

There’s plenty of science proving that exercise-induced endorphins make physical activity a pseudo-addictive substance. However, I’m not about to go on secret runs or hide dumbbells up my sleeves. For obvious reasons, pain and extreme fatigue aren’t my first ideas of fun.

Anyone’s passion can easily become a burden, especially when it’s your job. And trust me, college sports are among the hardest of jobs. There’s an inherent mixing of business with pleasure, which is notoriously bad news.

So when my knees buckled and the world lost its focus, it was hard not to hate running. I willed myself to stand up – that speeds recovery – but forcing an out-of-body experience to survive a workout sucks the willpower from you.

Okay. This still sounds unappealing, if not revolting. It wasn’t until dinner that my hard work came full circle. A freshman on the team said my near-death experience inspired her to work harder.

Really? Nice!

It was hard to tell when my legs shook and my vision wobbled, but kicking your butt to make yourself and others better is totally worth it.

Does this ring any bells for you? Or should I book the next therapist citing masochistic behavior? I can’t be the only one who thrives on seemingly self-destructive behavior. What’s your excruciating addiction?