6 am on Saturday, the alarm went off. I was tired, and hit the snooze button. I was achy from laying crooked on the couch reading the night before. I may have missed 1 or 2 work out sessions the previous week, which means I was super cranky (ok, maybe even PMS-y). Hubby and I had been squabbling over unimportant things (I still really want that desk for the den!). I had a Nyquil hangover from the allergy attack I gave myself on Friday by tearing my room apart looking for my running belt. I still didn't know where the belt is, so I knew I was going to have to velcro a snack size bag of chewies to my arm band, which means I should drop them about 3 times over the 10 miles. It was raining. I had every excuse to stay in bed. I didn't.
I thought ahead, and hit a bottle of Lemon Tea Nuun in the bushes that I would pass up to 4 times, depending on how I ran my loopy route. It was mid 60s and drizzly, but being the good New Englander I am, I had my sunglasses perched on top of my head, just in case.
The rainy run. If you look closely at the hills, you can see the fog heavy on the trees. This was taken around mile 7 or so. |
It was one of those silent cries, where your tears are streaming down your face. I sat there for a few minutes, until I was exhausted and empty. I stood up, and looked around. It was still raining, but seemed brighter. I tentatively tried a few strides, it felt good. I unpaused the GPS and ran up the hill. And I kept going for another 8 or so miles. I hit 10 miles as I ran up my driveway. I was smiling.
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