The entire time I trained for my December 5K, which I didn't really want to train for, but had to because I'd made a public statement, I cussed and complained. I wallowed in self-pity. Most of all, I spent the half hour or torture distracting myself with composing what I would later post on FaceBook about my training that day. AND I wished for a broken ankle so that I would have an excuse not to train anymore and not to run the 5K. The whole mess I got myself into, all for cute running clothes, was sick and sordid.
BUT, I did not break my ankle. Therefore, I did run the 5K, something I never would have done had I not made it my goal. Heck, I never would have run 5 feet if I hadn't had a goal of some sort. For girls like me, it just isn't possible to get up our go without a carrot on a stick.
Someone recently accused me of becoming a recreational runner, meaning a person who goes out and jogs three miles for the heck of it. Puh-leeease.
He said that running is good therapy. I said I prefer chocolate therapy and wine therapy over sweating.
He reluctantly agreed that those are good, too.
So, it's time for a new motivator, because I can't go out there and run the streets for nothing. There has to be a destination, otherwise I'm doing it for nothing like any old recreational runner would. Ugh.
What are we doing this for?
(Lucy Adams is the author of Tuck Your Skirt in Your Panties and Run and If Mama Don't Laugh, It Ain't Funny.)