Today, I was pretty pathetic. I wasn't really able to enjoy snoozing my alarm because of the terrifyingly loud rain falling in sheets against my window, so I was definitely awake when it was time to get up for my run. Here's a snippet of the internal dialogue that went down:
"I'm not going out there, it's raining"
"Just go, it'll be fine, you've got a hoodie and a waterproof jacket. This is why."
"But it'll be cold and wet"
"Think about that quote from the marathon mentalist in Runners World. You'd go to work in the rain."
"FINE. Bitch."
So out I went. And it was horrible. I was all groggy, and didn't realise my Nike+ chip wasn't in my shoe till I'd been walking round staring at my Nike+ sportband for a couple of minutes in the rain. I found it really hard to keep any kind of consistent pace, my hood kept falling in my face (it's too big for my small head), and when I pulled it back, I kept getting rain in my eyes. So when I got to Marble Arch, I turned round and went home, making my run 2.9km instead of 7km. Like I said, I was pathetic today. I just hope it doesn't rain on the day of the Paris half marathon, or I'm fucked.
Tomorrow is the day I've been dreading for about 3 weeks. My first PT session since before Christmas. There will be boxing. There will be tears. There may well be blood. Stay tuned.
lol. That conversation sounds startlingly familiar. Well done for getting up and out there, and I'm on tenterhooks waiting for the boxing, tears and blood.
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