On the walk home from work, I had a slight pain in my right Achilles, or just above it -- I thought, this might be an excuse not to run this evening. Somehow, I managed to convince myself run anyway.
I walked inside, put on my new running shorts, some running socks, running shoes, debated on whether or not I needed my capilene running shirt -- to keep me warm, but decided against it, which turned out to be a good call.
I set out at a brisk pace, trying to warm up my legs as much as possible before I started running -- not that the difference is actually that great, in fact it's only 2-3 minutes per mile, but it helps nonetheless.
I was almost all the way down my "driveway", which I use as my five minute warmup walk, when I realized I had left my watch at home. I felt no regret as I looked at my empty wrist, and continued anyway.
It turns out that's a pretty good call. Focusing on the numbers, I think, has removed me from the purity of it. "I need to run X number of miles this week to be ready for the half!" isn't something that I am apt to stick to for very long. The reason is that it, honestly, is boring.
Today, I felt something I haven't felt in a while. Even though it was only a quick one mile jog, it helped me to remember why I'm out there. I'm not out there to hit a target number, I'm out there because it feels nice -- before, during, and after. I love to bask in the glow of what I've accomplished. I don't get a great feeling of accomplishment for hitting a certain target speed, or a pre-set distance. I feel gratified when I overcome the obstacles and challenges, mental or physical, that I run in to when I'm out there alone. I only want to race against myself.
