I went for a wog today. First time in probably a week. The weather was perfect. The timing was perfect. Yet it was the worst wog ever…
Alright perhaps that is a slight exaggeration.
I have discovered that I make crutches for myself. Some may call them excuses. I think they are more like crutches because I use them to fall back on and hold my story of failing to meet a goal.
My crutches today: asthma is acting up, knee has weird crick feeling in it, I am the only I will let down if I don’t get better at this no one else cares if I hit my goal, this is too hard, everyone running past me are really runners, I am not a runner.
I find the battle in my mind the hardest.
Yes, I struggle with breathing, but workouts make my lungs stronger, healthier.
I am the only one that cares about my goals but that doesn’t mean I need to let myself down. I am worthy up doing something good, and strong, and healthy and noteworthy.
I am a runner. A slow, awkward, runner, who cries and sings to herself on her wogs.
It is hard and it will get harder before it gets better. Life is hard and it gets harder before it gets better. I too am hard and will get harder before I get better.
I am older too. Cricks and slight aches and pains are treatable, not deal breakers.
How many times I have mentally duct taped those self made crutches together is pitiful.
Time for a healing. Time to dump the crutches for good.