I am about to run further than I have run in two years.
This morning, my legs will carry me over eight miles.
It's not that far, not for people who run distances. Not for the old me. For the me who woke up this morning, though, it seems nearly impossible.
To be perfectly honest with you, I just don't feel like doing it. I'm tired. I didn't get enough sleep. My back is hurting and my left IT band has flared up a bit this week.
More importantly, the little voice in my head is hissing at me.
"You're not ready."
"You haven't trained enough."
Last night, we sat in stopped traffic behind a line of cars waiting for a serious car accident to be cleared. As we sat, irritated by our three screeching, overtired children, we grumbled about having to wait so long.
Then we learned there was a fatality.
Suddenly, sitting safely alive in our car, together, even if over half of us were melting down, didn't seem so bad.
And so this morning, even though I really don't want to run, I will. I will, because some cannot. I will, because I can.
I will. I choose to. I'm going to do it, now.
I'll let you know how it goes.