After four days off running, I woke up to a cool, rainy day yesterday. While I usually love running in that weather, I hadn’t had much sleep the night before and the grey made me cranky. (I’m a little bit stressed about keeping this stupid gecko alive. I swear I’m worse than when I had newborns.)
Anyways, after dropping the kids off, I puttered around the house for a few minutes, making a grocery list and figuring out all random things I needed to pick up at the pet store. (Note to all considering a reptile: the animal was cheap, the stuff he needs, not so much. And I have live crickets and mealworms in my house. By choice.)
Finally, I told myself I had to run a mile. There was no way I was going to come on this blog and tell you guys I hadn’t run for a fifth day in a row. So, I headed out. And you know, that first mile wasn’t fast, but it felt pretty good. So did mile 2. And mile 3. At that point I realized I was 0.75 miles from home, so I decided to finish mile 4. And somehow, mile four became mile 5. I think I would have kept going if we’d had any groceries in the house and Jones had not outgrown every.single.pair of pants he owns.
Running is sneaky like that. I was expecting an awful run. My mind was all “blah blah blah I hate running blah blah blah”, but my body needed it. And in the end, my mind got what it needed too.