I’d had one of those Mondays where you feel like it’s a Friday by the end of it. You know the one, so much has been crammed in that you feel like you already need a weekend. When I got home my shoulders were carrying around an elephant when I sluggishly opened the front door.
I had to do it. I just knew I had to do it. No matter how bogged down I felt from work, I just had to put on my running shoes and head out the door.
So against the wishes of my brain, I did. I laced up those running shoes that my mind said were too stinky and headed out the door. My mind even told me there was nowhere interesting to run… ever.
The southerly was blowing and was testing out my lung capacity and lining my asthmatic trachea with phlegm. But I powered on in a new direction. I ran past new houses, hot manly man runners, dodged dog craps and ran past the aroma of KFC. Eff you KFC, I’m not falling victim to you today, I’m too busy running!
And then you know what, I didn’t stop. Usually there’s the token need a teeny weeny break. But instead, I was Tom Hanks in my own Forrest Gump movie.
I came home feeling super proud of myself and celebrated with a standard lunge or two. I am the champion of my own mind. Wohoo!