go fucking run.

My first long run of my training experience…4 miles, seemed pretty reasonable. I woke up early on Saturday with the intention of meeting a group of runners on a pond over a half hour away, which I was dreading, but I knew that I would be much more motivated to run with people around me. I bundled up the best I could, drove out to the pond, and couldn’t find anyone anywhere. I decided to run alone, but the snow hadn’t been shoveled from the path, which meant my poorly-insulated sneakers wouldn’t hold up for very long. Frustrated, I drove home.

I started on my run from my apartment and everything felt wrong. My feet were numb, headphones were loose, pants weren’t snug. After a mile, my throat was dry and painful from the cold wind, so I turned around and headed home. I was terribly upset about the way my morning ended up, and basically gave up.

After a good cry and some motivational words from a few friends, I bundled back up and went back outside. Granted, I didn’t hit the 4-mile mark, but I was still happy I got myself back out there. Lesson: suck it up and go run.

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