I ran yesterday, and I have a plan to run today. I'm 100% compliant with my new running plan so far, and my attitude is slowly improving. Instead of not really thinking about running, my mind is telling me "You owe us a mile today -- just a mile. Fast or slow, you have to run one mile today." I'll get it done today while my kiddo runs cross country. I'm thinking I will do a hard mile and see how that feels.
My extrinsic motivation is in the form of my running plan tacked to my cubicle wall. It says run 2 miles on Monday [did it], one mile today [will do], and two more tomorrow. All in all, it's ten miles this week and eleven the next. But to what end? What does my end goal look like? It looks like me about 15 pounds lighter, as I am at the peak of marathon training. It looks like me answering, proudly, when people ask how much I run, "Forty miles a week." It looks like me, lean and sleek, running all over the city.
Perhaps I should find a race. Wifey has given me the green light. Her pregnancy is healthy and progressing normally, and her morning sickness is managable. She's all but encouraged me to go race [and take the kid.] But I don't want to run a 5K. I don't want to deal with the walkers and strollers and stuff. I want to find at least a 10K. It's too late for me to train for the Downtown Doubler 15K, and we may not be in town for the YMCA Turkey Trot in November. Hmm. Time to check out the race calendars.
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