love/hate

So, as uplifting as Sunday's 8-miler was, Tuesday was equally as demoralizing. Running is a love/hate relationship. The mental game can be as hard, if not harder than the physical game. I have been struggling all season with the first couple of miles. I know it's mental as I've got the legs to run. I find myself fighting through (and losing often) getting to mile 3. Without fail, after a quick break, I've been able to regroup, run freely and have always achieved my goal. Sometimes the run is easy. Sometimes it hurts. Most of the time it's a little of both.

Tuesday was different then any other "run" in the past few years. For the first time in memory, I quit. I encountered the "no I can't" demon and let him win. I was, am really, humiliated, angry and embarrassed. 1.47 miles and I quit. QUIT. A harsh word, one that gnaws at your gut and is impossible to shake. I know, I know. It's one run. One bad day. Write it off and get on with it, right?

Easy to say. Hard to do.

I am obsessing about this failure and could write a typical Pdaddy dissertation on the how and why, but will spare you. All I know is that on Friday, I will face that demon again. We'll see if I have the guts to run over him this time. If not, it's just one run. One bad day, right?