I just ran my first race of the season. Here’s a recollection of some of the feelings I had and thoughts that went through my head as I ran.
My toddler daughter wakes me up . It’s 6:30 on a Saturday morning. I still haven’t committed to it yet in my mind, but somehow I know I’ll go through with it. There is a 5K taking place a few miles down the road from where I live, and I have studiously avoided pre-registering for it. My knee has been bothering me, I’m not in great shape, maybe my husband will be unable to watch the baby. You name it, I’ve got the excuse. Yet the thought of skipping it is just something I can’t fathom. My husband sleeps till 8:30, then awakes with a start. “Aren’t we going to the race?” he asks. “Yes,” I say, “we are.” Then I make another trip to the bathroom.
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