So I had an awful run this morning. I think I was in the middle of a REM cycle when my alarm went off – which it’s not supposed to do, and which always seems to make exercising extra difficult. Dragged my ass out of bed, had a sip of water, got into my running kit, and went out to do my thing.
My legs felt heavy. My lungs felt tight. I couldn’t seem to find a good rhythm or stride for the life of me. It just felt. Like. Shit.
When Zombies, Run! told me I’d made the first kilometer, I could tell I wasn’t going to last a full 5km. My body just wasn’t going to have it. So I told myself I’d go all the way to the traffic light – which would be just over 2km – then I could turn around and head home. Meaning I’d still manage just over 4km for the morning. By the end of km 3, I was just done. My legs refused to run any further. But since I was still basically half a mile away from home I walked it out, upset with myself for not being able to push through it to my usual cool-down walk point, and half-heartedly telling myself “It’s okay. At least I went out and did something.”
Then I got to thinking about it. Yeah, it sucked. It felt awful and depressing and I hated every step. But you know what? 74 days ago I could not have even entertained the notion of doing what I did this morning. 74 days ago I would have quit before I even got out of my neighborhood. Hell, 74 days ago I probably wouldn’t have even managed to get myself out of bed until a second or third alarm.
So, yeah. Shitty runs happen. (hehehehe…..) But I’ve also come a long way in two and a half months, and I need to remember that.