In January I signed up for the Sugarloaf 15K race, coming up in just over a week. 15K is 9.3 miles, for those of you not familiar with metric conversions. The most I have run in one stint so far is 8 miles. Running is weird. I love it and hate it. Literally – during every run – I love it, hate it, love it, and eventually end up resigned to the fact that I just have to do it. I wish I could say that I love to exercise. I don’t. It’s a necessary evil as far as I’m concerned. And I am all over the place when it comes to working out. I will do really, really well for one, two, even three months and then wham! I just don’t. want. to. do. it. anymore. Guess where I’m at right now? Yeah, my upcoming 8 mile run on Saturday morning is already making me cranky – and it’s only Thursday! It makes wonder, why am I doing this. Then I remember….
I could not run a mile in December. And then I could.
I could not run two miles in January. And then I could.
I could not do push-ups in February. And then I could.
I could not run three miles in March. And then I could.
I could not do this workout in April. And then I could.
I could not run up Granite Heights in May. And then I could.
Come June, I want to look back at Sugarloaf and say And then I could.