This morning I got to wake up. I got to make coffee and drink it. I got to lace my running shoes and head out the door. I got to think that I wanted to do a tempo run (4 miles at 8:20 pace) because I didn’t have time for a long slow run, which my legs would have rather done.
I got to run. I got to breathe hard and feel the beads of sweat drop off my forehead.
The first mile was slow as I was still warming up. The second mile I picked up the pace around 8:30. I couldn’t push myself to go faster as my legs still felt heavy and tired.
Then suddenly around mile 3.5 I felt bad and really slowed down. I ran as if I was slogging through mud. Just before I hit mile 4, I was overcome with the sensation that I couldn’t breathe and was about to throw up all at the same time. I stopped. I quit. Just before it turned to Mile 4 on Runtastic. I couldn’t eke out another step to round out the number.
I don’t care.
It wasn’t a good training run.
But I was able to run this morning. And so many people can’t. I’m grateful that I can run. Even a bad run is a good run in these circumstances.