...is what it took to run today. I don't know if other runners, and I lump myself into that category very gingerly, have the same feeling that within the first few steps of a run they have an inkling of how that run is gonna turn out. In the last 15 years every summer I try to get back into shape by running and at the beginning of almost every run I can tell how the run is going to go. I don't know what it is, but on Monday's run, I knew it would be a good run. The first few steps got me into a good groove, a good pace, and everything felt right. Tonight...I wanted to stop before the first quarter mile mark. It seemed like each step I took landed me in tar and required more and more effort to get that next step going. The first mile was the toughest I've run since I've start running again. The second mile was no easier, but no harder either. I ended up making bargains with myself...like if I finish the two miles, I can have pizza tonight. But then, I was done and walking home. I finished the two miles and while I'm still recovering from it, I do feel great about it. I like that I have the ability to push myself when no one else is there to push me. I forget I have that in myself, that drive. I need to call on it more often. I have repressed it somewhere deep in me and it seems to find away out of wherever I've buried it when I need it, but I would like to get it to a point where I can reach out and I know right where it is.
Now...the question of the night. Do I actually make good on my promise to myself?
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