I've run five 5ks, logged my miles training, sucked it up through injuries/healing/swearing during foam rolling, and somehow balancing it not so greatly with family life.
But 13.1 miles are coming, whether I'm prepared or not.
I run. Alone.
The only motivation I have is me. At any moment, I can stop my run and give up. There's no one yelling at me to keep going, go faster, watch my form. If you swim, you stop you drown (or float). But when you run, it gets tough. You might swear, cry (been there), scream...laugh, smile. But you have the choice every single step if the way to stop or keep going.
That's why I love it. And sometimes hate it.
There's the moments I want to give in, skip, or when life gets in the way and I can't get my run in I berate myself.
But still I run.
I'm tired of the moments I tell myself I'm not fast enough, or I'm not pretty enough, thin enough, or good enough. Running has changed me. I know I can beat goals I never thought possible, and my biggest competition is myself (though there are the moments when I look at someone else and still have that feeling of not bring enough, but it is quickly swept aside now).
Someone once told me at my first 5k that they don't give out "participation medals". Of course, this person never ran in her in life, yet still laughed at me.
It's called a finisher medal. And it marks my journey, and every other runner who makes the choice to keep running especially when they really don't want to.
Though, I will run for a really good margarita or chocolate, too.
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