woke up and hour before my alarm was supposed to go off with some serious anxiety.
It’s almost June! All the grand plans I had about weight loss and pre-training to prepare myself for this monster undertaking just didn’t happen.
I ran when I could, but don’t feel it was enough. Going through physical therapy for the last three months got my legs back where they need to be, but my cardio sucks. I want to run faster. Even my shorter runs are a lesson in starting out too fast. I need to give myself permission to start slow.
Not every run is a race.
Who cares what your watch says on a Tuesday? It’s Tuesday, the most unexciting day of the week.
I closed my eyes and tried to wish away the guilt. When my alarm finally did go off, I hit snooze twice before rolling out of bed to see what kind of run I could pull off on this humid morning.
It wasn’t great, but it got done. I started too fast again. It was a perfectly Tuesday run.
The guilt lessened a bit. I haven’t downloaded my watch stats yet. They don’t matter right now (she tells herself unconvincingly.)
I’m going to go download my run now.