Something in me stopped caring about running. For the first couple months, I didn't miss it. Then, slowly but surely, I started reading running blogs again. Getting Runner's World in the mail made me itch to work my muscles and clear my head. Passing runners in my car would spark tiny bits of jealousy. Then I would look at my running clothes when I got dressed in the morning.
This morning, amidst all the chaos of my day I decided, quite randomly, that I wanted to run. I put on a pair of running shorts, a sports bra under the tank top that I slept in, my running shoes, and I got on the treadmill. No stretching, no forethought, nothing.
I only did a mile, and half of it was walking (the first and last 1/4 mile). It was sad and depressing and killed my self-esteem.
But...it was perfect.
I don't plan on holding myself to any sort of training plan. I'm not in a place where I can take personal responsibility for that. My only goal is to run faster than I ran before, even if I can't run quite as far. I realized after running my first 5K that I know I can have the endurance to run at least that, and hopefully much further. But I don't just want to run that far, I want to run that far fast(er).
Wish me luck.
