Some days the run just falls into place, then there’s the other 99% of your runs where you feel like someone is purposefully torturing you and making your life miserable. With each step you think, “Jesus Christ is this $%^king over yet?!”
Tonight was part of the 99%. I don’t know what it was–my pace was still well under 12 minutes and under 11 for that matter, but it felt like… work. My arch hurt, my shoulders hurt and I felt like at any moment an elderly woman with a walker was going to pass right by me. But surprisingly, I thought to myself, “I can’t cut it short—what am I going to do, put 1/2 a start next to this run on the calendar? Keep moving!” So I trudged through Georgetown, I summoned my will power and continued on past the cupcake place, and that was it. 5 miles down, the sun had set, and I immediately put the star next to my run when I got in.
Because good or bad, I got through it and tomorrow I will thank myself for that. Or I will hurl vile insults at myself… It’s kind of a toss up and could go either way, but those insults won’t be about the fact that I finished my run, they’ll be about passing three cupcake places and not stopping at a single one.