The only thing I wanted to do when I woke this morning was go back to sleep. For a fleeting moment, I considered chucking my running plans and returning to bed after dropping the boys off at school. But I knew that with the impending rain, I would regret not running today. Still, maybe the rain wouldn’t come. Just maybe.
First off, I knew the rain would come. Secondly, I know myself. I know that if I just got into the truck, I’d feel better about running. And if I didn’t, I’d feel better about running as I ran through the windy canyon. And if I still didn’t, I’d feel better after climbing to the ridge and looked out over the miles of trails I’d covered. Worst case scenario (or best), I would be happy finishing up the run. I can’t remember a time that I ever regretted going for a run. I know this much about myself.
Still smiling, even after having to stop to deep stretch an aching plantar fascia: