I really, really didn’t want to run on Sunday. My stomach felt overfull and bloated. I knew there was some constipation going on, and it would likely be pretty painful to run with. I didn’t even feel like eating an omelet for breakfast, so I made one for my husband and then had toast with cream cheese for breakfast instead. Something light. 

I dithered for hours after that. My husband left the house for his run/walk, and still, I sat, and waited to feel better. 

It wasn’t happening. The magical time that I was waiting for was not going to come. 

So, I just did it. I got myself ready, and then I got myself out the door and just started running. 

It sucked. 

Not just until I warmed up; the whole run felt pretty damn awful. It’s not that my legs or feet couldn’t do it – they actually felt pretty good, and if it were up to them, I would have run more than 4 and two thirds miles. But my tummy was not having fun, and it was a mental battle to run as long as I did. 

There’s actually a really good reason for me to run when I don’t want to. It’s great training for backpacking, because that’s a sport where sometimes you don’t have a choice about whether you’ll be hiking that day or how far. It might be raining, even snowing, and you need to get yourself moving, because failing to move is simply NOT an option. 

The 10 miles a week goal has been helping me train my brain. I have been running a lot more often when I don’t want to do it trying to meet that goal. And every time I do, I’m not just conditioning my body for backpacking, I’m also practicing that mental push that gets me out of the warm, cozy tent and into the cold and dark with a pack on my back. 

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