Holy mother of…

Everything hurts.

The backs of my ankles, the fronts of my ankles (bear with me I have no idea what my muscles are called), my calves, my knees, my hips, weird muscles in other weird places, the one piece of hair I missed when shaving my legs; they all feel like Uncle Vinny took a baseball bat and beat the $*%& out of me, and not with the lightweight metal kind of bat, with the nice piece of ash kind of bat.

As I limped into Earthfare to procure a few things to go with dinner, I could feel my whole body telling me to just collapse on the floor next to the plantains.

For the first time in 6 weeks, I was unable to complete a run. I mean, I did this week’s Couch to 5K, but for some reason completely unknown to me, I could not complete all of the runs even though I did this exact same workout just 48 hours ago. Sure it’s been hard these last few weeks, but I’ve always been able to dig down and dig deep to keep going. Today? Today it felt like my feet stopped sending signals to my brain and I was running on stubs.

“Okay fine,” I said to myself. “Just walk this &!#*^.”

So I did. I walked the &!#@^.

I ran when I could, and walked when I had to. In the end I was pissed, but I was drenched with sweat, my heart racing. Clearly I had a great workout and at any point before these last 6 weeks, I would have been happy. So why not today?

Then it occurred to me.

I’ve not been thinking about Couch to 5K as exercise. I’ve been thinking about it as a competition. I wasn’t angry that I didn’t get a good workout. I was angry that I lost a war with my iPhone.

Then the light bulb went off.

Not exercise.

If Couch to 5K is not exercise, and is instead a game of will, well then…BRING THAT $^%* ON!

48 hours till the rematch.

tiffwork

 

 

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