On the importance of perspective

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.

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