Holes, Stanley has to dig a five-foot deep, five-foot wide hole every day. His fellow diggers tell him, "The first hole is the worst." Yet, the second day his body is screaming in pain from the first day and his hands are all bloody and can barely hold the shovel. Another kid tells him, "The second hole is the worst." The third day, yup, "The third hole is the worst." And so on. Until finally someone says, "The next hole is always the worst."
Always the next hole. The one you have to anticipate is the worst, not the one you've already dug.
That's how I feel about running lately. I used to run. A lot. I was on the track and cross country team, I ran half marathons and even did a full 26.2 once.
Nowadays? Having to get up at 3:30 in the morning for work has pretty much ceased any consistency with my workouts. (I've always done better in the morning.) I've been trying to run when I get home, and let me tell you, getting out the door is pure torture. And so is the 20 or so minutes I'm forcing myself to run.
I know I did this to myself, not keeping it up. I hope one day my body remembers that it liked running at one point in my life. I hope that one day it will not make me want to cry every time I look at my watch during a run and realize I'm not even halfway done. I hope that I will someday actually feel more in shape than out of shape.
Until then, I just have to face the fact that the next run is always the worst.
Until it's finally not.
54 minutes ago