Running and I have a love hate relationship. Which is to say that I love what running does for me but I hate, hate, HATE lacing up and doing it. Of course it's not unusual to love the results of something you don't want to do...giving up junk food or sitting down to write for instance. Any time I plan a run I make an excuse: "what if I lifted instead? what if I walk around the grocery store for an hour, does that count?" I'm sure it all counts for something, but not what I'm trying to accomplish.
A few days before leaving for Atlanta I woke up promising myself that after breakfast and some indulgent Pinterest-ing I would hit the trails. But upon rolling out of bed my mental block had other plans.
A thought occurred to me as I was staring down at my old, ripped up Asics. One of my best pieces of advice that always works: get dressed, walk out your front door. If you still don't feel like working out after you've gone through all the effort to prepare, then don't. I reasoned that even if I got out my front door and just took a walk down to Lake Shore my legs would recognize the familiar rhythm and know what to do. And they did.
For twenty minutes and I zipped up and down the sidewalk along with honking rush traffic and a homeless man that called me "pretty lady". Aw shucks! Of course he followed it up by asking if I was alone, to which I unapologetically about-faced and sprinted back to my apartment. Sweaty, panting, blissfully satisfied Now that it's starting to warm up around these parts picking up running might not be such a bad idea.
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