51 days to go...that's 7 weeks to my half marathon.
Yesterday I ran...
around the block. It was pathetic. Right out of the driveway I knew my injury wasn't healed. I came inside, yelled some expletives and proceeded to pout until my husband came home from work. I was upset, but I didn't realize how defeated I felt until I tried to explain to him what was wrong. My voice caught in my throat as I imagined sitting at the finish line watching my friend, Kari, finish the half without me. I don't think I realized how much this really meant to me until then.
My wonderful husband encouraged me not to give up, so I hit the gym and did 45 minutes on the bike. I felt really good afterward, but it wasn't anything like the brief elation I felt at being outside in my running shoes.
Calling all cheerleaders - I could use a boost right now.