Do you ever get mornings when your body doesn't seem to work like it usually does?
I had one of those this morning.
Not like when I had a chest infection a couple of months ago. It was more like my legs were lodging an official complaint, maybe because I'd run four miles nine hours earlier.
It would have been the easiest thing to just give into my legs and let them own the decision, after all I'm always espousing how we should listen to our bodies much more.
Yet I knew, even though it was very hard to justify it, that all I was going to do was take my legs on a very gentle mile (and a little bit), which would possibly even help them to recover.
Anyway, with 48 consecutive days under my belt, and the previous 1,909 before I had to pause for my chest infection, it made it easier for me to overrule my legs and venture out, extremely gingerly I have to admit.
Once I was going it all came flooding back to me - how privileged I am to be able to run at all; and how I knew for a fact that I would feel more alert, more lively and more able to create a really good day once I returned home.
Yet again, no matter how excruciating it was to drag myself out of the door this morning, I once again proved that I've never regretted going out for a run (unless it's with a chest infection).
No comments:
Post a Comment