This morning was a toughie. Not as bad as the day before yesterday but it'd be a stretch to describe this morning as easy.
I woke just after half 5, not gently dusting off the remnants of a half remembered dream, but abruptly like I'd remembered something really important and then forgottern it straight away.
I became aware of a dull roaring noise through the deafening comfort of my earplugs. "Is that the baby?" I thought while trying to extract said earplug from my ear. No, I realised with a sinking feeling, it's the rain.
Great. Wonderful. Marvellous.
If it wasn't for the fact I had to get out of bed I'd've been comforted by the heavy pounding of the rain on the dorma roof in the bedroom. Baby sound asleep in the other room, hubby snoring gently beside me, what could be nicer than drifting gently back to sleep?
But no, I had running to do and it was time to get up. I felt a mixture of half fear/half dread as I tiptoed out of the bedroom. My last run hadn't been a good one, I'd gone off too fast and by the end I was really struggling. I finished but Lordie, it wasn't easy. "What if I've fallen out of love with running?" I thought to myself, "I had such big plans".
While quietly having a word with myself I strapped on my trainers, put the IPod on and set off. Worry washed over me as I realised I was getting out of breath mid way through the warm up walk. I'd done it twice before but this morning the devil was sat on my shoulder. "How can you possibly run for 25 mins non stop?" he said "You can't even walk for 2 minutes".
Then I set off. Nice and steady, not too slow but not as fast as last time. I'd created a playlist the night before in an attempt to motivate myself and as the tunes kicked in a wave of emotion washed over me. "I love running" I thought "If I wasn't so shattered I'd cry".
And that was it, I carried on and I finished. I felt strong, it was a miracle.
It got me thinking, is there any feeling in the world better than having a good run?