I’m going to run 17 miles tomorrow. That’s the furthest I’ve run since June of 2014.
I ran 15 two weeks ago and it was a struggle. I was excited to run 13 last weekend, figuring it’d be easier.
Honestly, I almost didn’t finish and that kind of rocked me. I’m in my tenth week of training and I don’t feel like I’m progressing as much as I should. I worry that I’m too heavy and that this whole thing is pointless.
I’m afraid of that 17 miles tomorrow and the 18 miles the week after and the 20 miles looming a few weeks out.
It’s going to be long. My body is going to hurt. I’m going to get bored. I’m going run out of water. I’m going to want to stop.
I name all of these fears here intentionally.
I name them so I can ignore them when they come up to meet me.