You've got to read this guy: http://windinyourvagina.blogspot.com/
Excerpt: "So I did it. I started running again. And let me just warn you that your body doesn’t really care about how you used to run. I ran 17 miles last week and it was like climbing Everest. But, somehow, in spite of the pain and the panting, I found that part of me that used to love it. There’s a place, and you usually have to go longer than a half hour to get it, where your body kinda says “Fuck it. He’s not gonna stop and everything’s starting to hurt. Cue euphoria!” and there’s this whole layer of yourself that drops away. That bitchy veneer of you that moans and whines and complains just gives up and the python in your head suddenly dies of unknown causes and turns into butterflies or some other poetry shit."
That one line, you know, the one that starts with, "Fuck it..."? That's the mantra that needs to keep going through my head. This guy needs to be my running coach, seriously.
I hadn't run in a couple of weeks (you know, the rain, cuz I'm a wimp and it is so easy to talk myself out of doing something I really don't want to do...), but I decided to try yesterday, but it hurt. My ankles and my shins hurt. So I walked some more, thinking I needed more of a warm-up than I already had; then I tried to run again...but it hurt. I did this about three more times, and then said, "Fuck it..." but the sentence ends differently than the one above. Because I ended up walking for an hour, and gave up on the running. And the whole time I'm thinking, "Well, walking the half marathon would still be an accomplishment, right?" This whole conversation in my head, fueled by the ever-present guilt that comes from god-knows-where that seems to plague me no matter WHAT I do...but I digress.
So then I come in this morning and I read Black Hockey Jesus's post, and it's a sign. I have to do this. I have to keep running. I have to push myself, push my body, and achieve this goal. Ugh.
Anyone want to run w/me tonight? It'll be fun, I swear. "Cue euphoria!"