Running Sucks

I was supposed to run 10 miles today.

Instead, I ran 8.

I've convinced myself that I would have run the extra 2 if I'd had time, but I had to be somewhere so I quit early. Also, I didn't have any water, so near the end my mouth was so dry, I couldn't even swallow. I realize choosing to run 8 miles in 90+ degree Oklahoma heat without easy access to water wasn't my brightest moment. But I ask you: is deciding to run really ever a bright moment? Yes, I want to be super fit and in shape, and most importantly, I want my legs to look good. Yes, I've always wanted to run a half-marathon, and in three weeks I'll be doing just that.

Success, right?

I'm beginning to feel differently, despite having recently finished reading the book Born to Run, where the author argues (albeit rather convincingly) that humans are born to run. I bought into this lie for a day or two, but now I'm back to thinking, He can't be talking about me. I'm slow and lazy.

I'm pretty sure the only way I convince myself three times a week to tug on a sports bra, running shorts, and lace up my tennis shoes is because I've blocked out previous runs where I am weezing, sweaty, and feeling as if I have to go to the bathroom (which I almost did last week during a run--go to the bathroom, that is--in my shorts. You think I'm kidding, but I was actually thinking about what yard had the most bushes as I waddled by. Luckily, I made it back to the house just in time. It was a horrible experience I hope I never have to relive).

In short, running sucks. At least, it did tonight. But even so, I know that two days from now I'll be out there again. And three weeks from now I'll be in Kansas, running the half. Hopefully crossing the finish line at a respectable time.

I'm praying I don't have to stop and go to the bathroom. Or find some bushes. How embarrassing would that be?