A couple of days ago, I went for a run. And this one was H-A-R-D!
I love feeling fit and usually, I love exercising. But that morning, for some reason, my body wasn't embracing exertion the way that it normally does.
My lungs were heaving, my legs were heavy, a stitch was slicing me in half and my energy was shot.
About halfway along the route I was planning to take I thought to myself that I really, really (r-e-a-l-l-y!) wanted to walk.
Now, I am a big fan of walking. Apart from being great exercise, I think it is a beautiful, meditative way to reconnect to self and to boost well-being.
But I had planned to run and I wanted to stick with the plan. So I committed to it, and also to myself. I kept running. Not fast, but I kept running. And when I got to the last bit, I thought about my options: I could take the (slightly) longer and (much) gentler way or the Short-But-This-Could-Very-Definitely-Kill-Me-Route. I chose the harder one.
And you know the brilliant thing? The bang I got out of being brave, aiming high and smashing my own challenge has stayed with me over the last few days. It has spilled into my non-exercise life, daring me to push myself in other spheres.
yeh me!
