It figures that as soon as I adopt a love-and-learn outlook, an issue with a boy would arise that has me thinking I'm crazy for believing boys are anything but dumb scumbags. The whole lot of them. Not a one seems to be any different from the dirtbag beside him.
It will pass.
Running over 100 miles a week is as gruelling as it sounds, but I'm trying to listen to my body more. I'm really making an effort.
I'm all for pushing yourself and your limits, defying boundaries and self-imposed limitations. Be better than yourself. Push your body, don't be afraid of pain--the human body is an evolving device. If you push it, it will respond.
But today, one kilometre into my run and my legs felt heavy like cement. My brain said "Yeah, we're done for today" and for once, I listened to it. I stopped and walked back home.
I'm trying not to beat myself up over it. The insane amount of guilt I feel over an incompleted run is something that needs to stop. The world will not end if I only ran one kilometre instead of 20 today. If I'm going to be brutally honest, the world still won't end if I only ran 3 out of 7 days next week. But putting the doomsday tag on the daunting task I complete everyday makes it seem more vital to my existence than optional.
Because if it was optional, I probably wouldn't do it.
Plans tonight include a Dairy Queen drive thru by the water with friends. And I'm not going to beat myself up over that, either.
The world isn't going to end if I indulge every once in awhile.
No comments:
Post a Comment