Today was one of those days I'm afraid. Maybe it was a reaction to the overenthusiasm displayed yesterday but today I did not want to Juneathon. In fact, to be honest, I didn't want to do anything! After an afternoon spent with a friend and her smallfry, where the most exercise I did was pushing a small girl on a swing after walking to the park at toddler-pace, I arrived home glumly aware that that my day was as yet not complete.
However, after only a few minutes of dalliance I changed and was out. Hmmm. 2 minutes of walking to "warm up" and then 1.3 miles of wanting to stop. Not the greatest enjoyable experience I've ever had it has to be said. But I did it and I made it home again, and I've logged it and now I'm almost there with the blogged as well.
Sometimes, this Juneathon really proves its worth I suppose. there's no way I'd have inveigled myself off the sofa and out jogging without that sense of doom hanging over my head. But with no good excuse other than laziness and general lack of drive, despite it all, I went. And I pushed my legs to keep moving, one (slow) step after another. And thus I made it and home again.
Hooray for Juneathon, and the love/hate thing of being forced out there!
It's easy to run when you want to. Going out when you don't feel like it is when you show your true grit. Or something.
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