"Three miles is not worth my going for a run," I said to my husband recently, half jokingly. Today, I would like to take those words back. At the end of the run, I was grateful for a quick three miler. During most training for Wrightsville, my shortest runs were five miles. On Tuesdays, my warm up and cool down totaled three miles. Last night I chose to get a good night of rest and purposefully slept through the 5:50AM group run. (I e-mailed them late last night to relay that I might see them on Wednesday.) Instead, I planned to run five miles between getting the girls to school and volunteering in my youngest's kindergarten classroom. When the morning rush ended, I had 30 minutes to run.
I set out disappointed that I could not log five miles. On the run I remembered that three mile runs helped me train for the Richmond Marathon not even two years ago. At that time I was happy to steal 30 minutes from my day on two or three days mid week to train. I was able to continue doing something I love even though most of those miles were on a treadmill, a machine I do not love. That was the semester I was working in a full-time internship, commuting across the triangle area, chauffeuring my kids to activities most nights of the week, and training for a marathon. I did it all, but not well. Those three milers kept me going. I never again want to loose appreciation for a good three miler.
No comments:
Post a Comment