It's funny that even when you're in a routine, having done something every single day for 54 days, you can still think "I really don't fancy going out, it looks grey and damp and I feel a little tired". How easy it would be to decide to give myself a day off, even when I know I'd regret it later.
But then again as a friend said to me recently, "can you recall any occasion when you came back from a run and regretted it?" I can't think of one, no matter what the weather was like and how I felt. And yet, the brain is a funny thing. Why does it try to sabotage me so often?
“Maybe the ancient Hindus were better crystal-ball-gazers than Hollywood when they predicted the world would end not with a bang but with a big old yawn. Shiva the Destroyer would snuff us out by doing… nothing… Withdrawing his hot-blooded force from our bodies. Letting us become slugs.” excerpt from Born To Run
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