It took me some time and it almost did not happen, but, in the end, today morning I dragged my lazy bum out of the bed and slapped on my running shoes and got out of the door for my first morning run in a long-ish time.
But I wasn’t proud of myself. It sucked.
It was supposed to be a 7k progressive run, but already after 400m or so, I knew it will not be a progressive run.
I felt bad. Not any particular pain or discomfort, just a general feeling of meh.
Remembering how first mile is a lie, I decided to push the run anyway. And boy did I have to push, just to keep my feet going. Alright, I thought to myself, maybe I couldn’t run a progressive 7k, but I could run just a comfortable 7k. I tried to think of all the people who can’t run or who can, but won’t, and it helped for a little, until my GI tract woke up around the 4k mark. From that point on, I went steadily slower and eventually had to walk more than I could run.
At 6.2km, I called it quits. My time was really slow and I felt like crying.
I went home feeling defeated, made a quick smoothie and went for a yoga.
Yoga felt OK, but the negative lingering feeling didn’t go away.
Later this afternoon I plan to go swimming, hopefully that can make me feel a little bit better.