Yesterday morning, my training calendar mocked me from the refrigerator door.
"Run!" It said.
"My legs are tired!" I replied.
"Run!" It repeated.
"I hiked all afternoon yesterday. I should reschedule." I whined.
But after much hemming and hawing, I pulled on a pair of running shorts and a sports bra, grabbed my sunglasses, and sat on the bottom step of my hallway stairs, staring at my shoes. I checked email. I Tweeted. I read a news article. In short, I procrastinated.
And still the shoes sat there.
There is an expression among even the most advanced runners that getting your shoes on is the hardest part of any workout.
Finally, I decided that I'd go out and run for 15 minutes.* Just 15 minutes. If my legs truly felt worn out, I could postpone my 2-hour long run by a day. If, however, the legs felt good, I'd keep going and wouldn't come home until at least 120 minutes passed.
I'm sure you know where this is going, but 15 minutes into the run, I realized I felt fine. A little tired. A little hungry. But fine. No pain. No soreness. No lead legs.
I ran for the whole two hours, and celebrated with a long, hot shower, and a gigantic post-run brunch.
My mind nearly prevented me from going on what was a very successful long run. My mind thought "two hours" and balked, because that seemed so... l o n g. But when I broke the task up into just a small first step, and then a few more, it didn't seem so bad after all.
I wonder, if I stayed home, would I have the same feeling of accomplishment?
Would I have felt like a wuss?
The moral of this story
Get out the door. Some days that's the hardest part.