Bless me bloggers, for I have sinned: I did not go to my Saturday morning group run. Yes, it's true, I skipped the long run. Instead of spending my morning running with the faithful and getting it done, I spent the morning curled comfortably in my bed with my husband and dog (who really puts out the BTUs).
Honestly, bloggers, I had planned on going to the group run this morning: Last night I prepared a delicious carb-filled dinner, laid out all my running clothes and supplies, and I went to bed early, yet this morning, when the alarm went off, I just couldn't muster the strength to get out of bed. So, I poked my husband in the cheek several times to wake him (I needed to consult with him), and I asked: "I don't feel like going to the long run this morning. I'm really tired. Does this mean I'm a bad little runner?" He sagely replied: "Not to me." That's what I needed to hear. I rolled over, closed my eyes, and went back to guilt-free sleep. That's right, my friends, I did not even repent of my sin, I just continued on in blissful slumber.
These missed miles pain me now in the bright morning light, but mostly because I have been so good for a month (at least) now, and I have strived to run every run (some have been cut a little short, but I've been out there). But this morning? I guess my motivation puttered out. Perhaps I will make up some mileage tomorrow, I don't know, but for now I'm not gonna beat myself up too much over it: I seem to go in cycles -- weeks of motivated running and then a few setbacks -- so I know I'll rediscover my mojo.
And I'm positive I'll be back to worship at the dawn church of running next Saturday. This week, I had to sleep in.