I decided on Sunday night that I should be a morning runner – to be one of those lonely, courageous souls dressed in layers of gortex and spandex that pound the dark pavement in the early hours. I would be the picture of health. I would fall asleep at 9:45 and wake up at 5:00 AM ready to tie up my laces and head out the door.
On Monday I managed a 30 minute run at 5:30. It seemed like a good way to start the week. On Monday night I got some more miles in, and since then my running shoes have sulked in the corner and eyed me with disgust. Running is taking a back seat and I’m letting myself bury under the covers instead of facing the cold. Obviously this can’t go on.