I have gotten in this bad habit of running only once a week. It's not something I'm particularly proud of, as I have still been eating like I'm running 2 or 3 times a week. Part of the time it has been due to other obligations. Part of the time it's due to a child who refuses to go to sleep. And the rest of the time it's because I'm more comfortable sitting on the couch reading a book.
I fully intended to go for a run this weekend. We went to visit my in-laws and Grandma has this (wonderful!) way of adding 10 lbs to my frame every visit. My thought was that I would bring my running gear and counteract the extra dessert she lovingly encourages me to spoon into my bowl! Of course it didn't happen. I took a nap instead.
Tonight, when we got home and the kids were refusing sleep and I was losing my everloving mind, my fantastic husband stopped working, came up behind me and said gently, "go for a run."
So I did.
And I'm very proud to say that I ran the whole two miles and it felt good.
I was tempted to stop about halfway when I could see my uphill climb coming up in the distance, but then I passed my Sole Sister Meghan's house. And I remembered her post from last week about owning it. It didn't matter if I walked for a while, because that was ok. But what also didn't matter was that I could run slowly and that's ok! If that's what my body needs to do to keep going, then so be it. I'm no less of a runner. I'm shouldn't look down on myself if I need to slow down to keep going.
I finished my 2 miles at an 11:45 min/mi pace. But I finished it running.
And I couldn't be more proud of myself.