o father confessor

I didn't run today.

I'm tired. I'm still fighting a weird cold meets allergies. I have to clean my house. As it stands, even without running today, I am running 22 miles this week. Plus I went to yoga last night. And my hip is sore.

I don't want to.

I know I am supposed to. I know in order to be ready to run my heart out in September, I need to get out there and run. But schedules are made to be shifted. Especially running schedules.

Instead, I am cleaning my room this morning.

So spare me the guilt trips. Spare me the disappointed patronizing gaze.

Go find yourself someone else to ride with your perfectionistic training guide.

No comments: