I have often said I have a love-hate relationship with running. Sometimes I am madly in love with it. Sometimes I downright hate it and wish it would go away. Sometimes I hate that I love it so much. And sometimes, I just love to hate it.
Today would be one of those loving-to-hate it days.
I had a really good strength workout with Dan today and after my workout, I was feeling really pumped up and excited to run. I came home, cooked a healthy dinner for later when my husband gets home from work, did a few miscellaneous chores, and got ready to run. The getting ready was fine, the running was not.
First, I got into a huge debate with myself over whether or not I wanted to run outside or on the treadmill. Seeing that it is absolutely gorgeous outside and not blazing hot or humid, to run outside should have been the perfect choice – or so it seemed. But, no, I got into an argument with myself about what to do and before I knew it, I found myself not even wanting to run. So, what do I do when I don’t really want to run?
I run on the treadmill. Or at least try to. At least when I am outside it’s like, “I bothered to come out here and run away from my house, so I might as well finish what I started before going back!” Nope. Today was the treadmill, and let me just tell you what occurred a few moments ago in my living room.
I ran a little over 1 mile, yes only 1, at a 15 minute plus pace,
I stopped for a drink twice,
Let the dogs out once,
Checked my email,
Responded to a text message,
Messed around with the speed for a minute,
Tried to sprint,
And called it a night.
What is wrong with me? It’s all in my head – one little thought about how I don’t feel like running (who really ever does?), and it’s over. This makes me hate running. And today, that’s all I can do.
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