Runaway

I’m baaaack. Well, sort of. After my deflating half-marathon experience a few weeks ago when I didn’t meet my time goal (cue voice in my head: perseverance¬†and tenacity, perseverance¬†and tenacity, that’s what counts, perseverance and tenacity… it has to sink in soon), hitting the pavement for my daily run has involved Herculean mental effort.

I’ve tried all my usual tricks. I even bought new shoes. Each day, though, it just came back to gutting it out.

When my son suggested a couple of weeks ago that we run a 5K together, I only half-heartedly agreed. We checked the local race calendar and picked one that seemed convenient, but I had a hunch his resolve might fizzle as the day approached. To my surprise, it didn’t.

And so, on the hottest day of the year (so far) on a course that featured one hill after another, we ran. I ran to recapture something I had lost, and he ran to prove that he could. Gloriously, drenched with sweat and heaving, we did it. We both found what we were looking for.

We ran our hearts out and finished strong. My time and my finishing place were much better than I had anticipated. Better still, Jake finished only two places behind me. In another couple of races, I fully expect him to pass me–to both of our delight.

In any case, yesterday’s accomplishment already makes the thought of my next run seem less daunting. All it takes is a little success to rekindle the motivation. The tough part is sticking with your plan until you find it.

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