I was suppose to run my 5th 5K this morning with my friend, Susan. We had been planning this for months. I haven’t seen her since our last 5K together back in August so I was pretty excited. I felt like this run would be kick in the arse that my mojo needed to get back on track (no pun intended!) and then… I got sick 2 weeks before. “No biggie,” I thought. “I’ll be fine by the 5K,” I remember reassuring Susan.
But the day before the 5K we picked up our racing bibs and I still wasn’t 100%. I flip flopped for days before trying to decide if I should run. I knew my doctor did not want me to run but that still didn’t deter me. I was still gonna run. I had even come to terms with maybe having to walk if my health didn’t allow me to run the whole way.
Then at 5am, just 3 hours before my 5K, my body finally made the choice for me.
It wasn’t happening.
I sent Susan a tearful text message and finally succumbed to cough medicine+codeine dreams while she ran our 5K without me.
I’m beyond upset right now. Which is almost a victory in itself if I think about it. Back 7 months ago, I would have found any excuse in the book NOT to run. And now look at me… Crying over a 5K. How silly right?