There are two things you probably already know about me from reading my blog:
1. I love lists.
2. I hate to fail.
Both of these are perfect motivators for setting and achieving goals in my life. If I didn't love to make lists, I would never write my goals down and if I didn't hate to fail, I would probably give up on 90% of the things I set out to do.
However, there are days when I feel like I've set my goals a little too high.
Today is one of those days.
I just saw on my calendar that my half marathon training begins in 2 weeks. The training schedule isn't that intensive, but I will have to find the time to run 2-3 times during the week and dedicate a morning on the weekend for my long run. So essentially, I will need to run 4 out of 7 days, and that's not even counting the cross-training it suggests. And the thing is, if I want to run 13 FREAKING MILES in July...I need to follow this training like it's my job.
And it is going to be a job. It's going to be a job finding the time to run. I know that sounds silly and I have preached on this blog before about how important it is to not use time as an excuse, but sometimes you just can't help it. ESPECIALLY if you have a hard time making fitness a priority over other things in your life. That's been my problem lately. I will have a free half hour with Eric home where I can throw on my Nikes and head out the door but instead, I find myself using that time to grade papers or work on a lesson plan. Or answer emails. Or take a shower. Or run to the store. Or work on a project. Whatever. My point is, I don't have the right motivation right now.
When I started doing the couch to 5K two years ago, I wanted to lose baby weight. That was my motivation. Last summer, I really wanted to improve my 5K time. That was my motivation. This year, I want to run a half marathon and that should be enough motivation. But it's not.
But you know what is?
This guy right here. With the skin tight running shirt and shorts on.
That's my Dad in the 80s, when he was a pretty serious runner. Him and my Aunt Judy ran races together all the time and he still remembers every funny story and accomplishment from those days. He loves reminiscing, but that's as far as it goes. He hasn't considered himself a runner for a long time.
So when he came to see me run in the city a few weeks ago, he told me that he misses it. The feeling of lacing up his shoes, pinning on a bib and hitting the pavement. He said that he would love to jog a 5K with me one day. Well neither of us are getting any younger Pop!!! So let's make a deal...
If I can run 13.1 miles in July, will you run 3.2 miles with me this fall?