Today I loved running.  And then I hated it.  And then I loved it again.  And then I hated it.  Fortunately, we managed to end on a good note (only because it was the end and that meant coffee).

 

 

I woke up early.  As usual.  On a Saturday.  You know, when the rest of the normal world is still asleep.  Good thing my running group doesn’t consist of normal people.  I didn’t wake up as early as I had planned.  Yes, it appears that I actually slacked a bit today.  I was planning to run 2 miles before meeting up with the group so I could make sure that my total mileage added up to 10.  Anyway, I did get up in time to meet the group.  Because when I say I am going to be somewhere, then I am there (even if I don’t want to be).

 

I rolled out of bed and put on my running clothes.  I knew without a doubt that I would need the below 40 degree pants (I’m starting to think that I should invest in a pair of below freezing pants) and my fleece lined long-sleeve shirt.  I thought that maybe I might need an extra fleece so I grabbed one just in case.  Yeah, that was definitely a good idea.

 

As soon as I stepped out of the car I wished I was back home in bed.  As soon as I started running I hated running.  The wind chill must have been below single digits (try putting a negative sign in front of a single digit).  My face became so numb that I had trouble speaking (and of course I didn’t think I would need a face mask).  Then there was the matter of my fingers.  Where were they?  How come I couldn’t feel them?  Oh, wait a second, I am feeling some pain now.

 

Then we turned around.  Did I mention that I love running?  I was chatting with my running group and picking up the pace.  It was a great time.

 

Then the group was finished and I had to do my extra 2 miles.  The wind was still at my back, but my stomach was somewhere else.  It was in a world of hurt.  I had to stop.  Then I knew I had to find a bathroom.  FAST.  Yet, I couldn’t go fast.  I couldn’t even run.  I hated running anyway so what did it matter?  I managed to get to the bathroom, but my stomach never really recovered for the last mile.  It was a painful last mile.  It was NOT FUN.

 

Then it was over.  My stomach could relax and I could fill it with some nice hot coffee.  As soon as I sat down in the coffee shop with my running group I was one happy runner.  I had finished my 10 miles as planned.