I wasn’t going to do it. I had planned to quit and not look back, even though I knew Hub would be angry and I would never allow myself to live down the fact that I quit.
I saw something out of the corner of my eye Thursday afternoon that jolted me back to reality.
I saw a small yellow sign placed just out of the way next to the cash register at the Subway restaurant out at campus.
I usually “just” get to campus with enough time to scurry up the stairs into class before the prof is about to begin her lecture. I arrived to campus Thursday with time to spare. Time to grab a sandwich and read those last few pages I hadn’t had a chance to finish before heading to school.
I saw the advertisement for the inaugural “Rock ‘n’ Roll.” The race I was absolutely ape for and talked incessantly about for the last several months.
I haven’t trained in the last several weeks. I can blame it on exhaustion. I can blame it on being sick. Whatever the reason, I feel nothing but perpetual guilt and frustration about not following through on my commitment. I am not a quitter. And yet …
That small yellow sign has nagged at me for the last two days. “Lisa,” it seemed to be screaming, “what the heck are you doing? You LOVE to walk! Get back out there!”
I finally opened my training log this afternoon to see what my mileage is supposed to be this weekend:
What the? We’re 8 weeks away from race day. Shouldn’t I have a longer distance to complete at this point in my training?
I did a little investigating. Perhaps I was looking at the wrong month. Nope. 4 miles is correct. The daily mileage during the week has increased, but it’s still very manageable for somebody like me who fell hard off the workout wagon and just can’t seem to find the inner gumption to get back on.
“A rolling stone gathers no moss.”
Time to clean myself up and go “rock ‘n’ roll.”
The yellow sign was right:
I did it.
I LOVED it.
And I feel great.