Sometimes it’s Sunday morning and my alarm goes off at 5:45am and I wake up knowing I have to go run 15 miles. This is the moment in time when I start to make a list of all the reasons I shouldn’t go running. I need to organize my sock drawer. It’s hot outside. I’m tired.
This Sunday we had a “recovery” week, which means we ran a measly 12 miles. When I woke up in the morning I could not find my car because Will borrowed it the night before. No running for me! Car’s been stolen! But then Will told me where it was. Fine. I’ll go run. I found the car and the lights had been on all night. No running! Car is dead! Alas, it started. Off I went- to run 12 miles. Because that’s what sane people do on Sunday morning.
I’m convinced that someecards is trying to convince me not to run. Today they sent me a list of headlines of people who had been attacked by bears or rapists or tigers while running. True story. Check it out.