Sunday is a day of rest and that's what I did (or at least I didn't go running).
For some reason, last night, I didn't want to go to bed even though I knew I had to wake up early to get boys to school and get my run in. And, you know, one of the perks of being a full-fledged grown up is you get to stay up as late as you want.... but, you also have to get up and be responsible Mama, no matter how bleary-eyed and grumpy you may be.
After I dropped Jon at MHS, I was sooooo tempted to just go home. But I drove my cranky butt to Sharon Woods, stretched beside the slimy green creek, put my headphones in and started to run. It hurt and I wanted to quit. Sometimes you just don't wanna.
Luckily, I've felt this way before (ha), and have become skilled at talking myself through it. "It's not far, Robin, just five. Think how good you'll feel when you get back to this very place in the parking lot and you did it. Focus on that." AND.... I thought about Liz and Joel and all the other cancer patients and families and all the times they have had to get up in the wee hours to travel to a clinic to be poked and prodded and ingested with stuff that makes them feel a catrillion times worse than this whiny-wuss, "I-stayed-up-too-late" yada yada pity party.... and I ran.
And when I finished, I felt fantastic. Bright-eyed and in-love with the crunchy Autumn morning - with the people and their dogs, with the toddlers on the playground and the rest of the day waiting...
I came home and, with a happy sigh, crossed another day of training off the schedule. I did the math and -can you believe? - when I finish tomorrow's 6-miler, Mama will have officially run 200 miles!;-) Go Me.
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