Okay, I want you to do something for me. Close your eyes.
Oh, wait, don't do that! Stop stop stop stop stop!
Pretend you have your eyes closed. That's better. Now imagine me, all geared up for running right down to the Garmin on my wrist.
Don't I look sporty and cute?
Now, imagine me, that sporty, cute woman, throwing a tantrum. Red-faced, jumping up and down, arms flailing, screaming at the top of my lungs, "I QUIT! I QUIT! IQUITIQUITIQUITIQUITIQUIT!!!"
You can stop imagining now. Really, stop. I know it's fun but I need you attention.
Though the scenario I asked you to imagine never happened, it was exactly what was happening in my head this morning.
As I drove to the park in which I often run only to find it closed, to another part of the same park to find that there are no trails in that section, then home, with the thought of running in my neighborhood, to be met by a cold, steady rain that has lasted for the past several hours.
There are people in my life, people I respect, who will read this and be tempted to tell me to, "Suck it up." Feel welcome to do so, though I doubt the effectiveness of that tactic. In fact, I doubt the effectiveness of any tactic.
I know it's probably not true but I feel like I've tried everything to motivate myself, down to reminding myself that motivation is completely overrated, but NONE OF IT IS WORKING!
My ability to resist my own resolve is staggering. My ability to ignore all evidence that exercise is good for me, to forget how much enjoyment and personal satisfaction I've obtained from it would be quite impressive if it weren't also depressing.
Come hell or high water, I am going to run my half marathon in May. But, for today, I quit.