Today is Wednesday. I haven't ran in 7 days. Well I ran on Saturday in Texas, but only a short 2.5 miler to the movies...lame.
I'm back to training tonight and I am WORRIED about my standard 6 mile run! Really, Molly? Really? Weak.
I have to say, running stresses me out more than it de-stresses me. Maybe it's just the training regimen, maybe it's my own expectations...regardless I'm worried (did I say that already?)
It's not that I won't finish it or that I won't make my standard sub 8' mile pace...what worries me is that I won't enjoy the run. I'm afraid I will huff and pant and mentally bitch to myself the whole time about how boring running is, how much I'd rather be watching TV or reading the seventh and final book in the HARRY POTTER series I started last night; a series I've waited NINE YEARS to finish.
It's ironic to think that in the week of not running I wasn't stressed out ABOUT my runs (which was a welcomed relief and departure from usual reality), I was stressed about MISSING the runs. Damned if you do, damned if you don't...
It scares me to think in one week I will have lost everything I've accomplished in the past 3 months. That terrifies me, because once the motivation has lapsed, it's nearly impossible to revamp it...especially at the rate I WAS going. I equate it to stopping at mile 10, and finishing with 16.2 to go...ya, not gonna happen.
But then again, there is always St. Anthony. He finds everything and I'm thinking motivation can't be a stretch for him.
Then again, I may not need him...just yet.