I wogged again this morning.
It sucked much more than last week. In fact, it was the direct opposite of last week. I felt good about myself last week. Until the pain set in the next day, I wanted to do it again. I was optimistic.
This week... is a different story.
I know we jogged a lot more than last week. And it was colder. Much, much colder. Still, I don't understand the direct contrast. I wanted to yack at the end of this weeks wog. I wanted to lay down on the frosty grass and take a nap. I wanted to die.
Matt keeps telling me that running is never fun. He says that he's gotten to the point where he at time enjoys the solitude of it, but that he NEVER enjoys the act of running itself.
Why am I doing this? WHY AM I DOING THIS!!??
I don't think I have ever run a day in my life. Not even high school. Come to think of it, I wogged back then too. In the mandatory gym class laps, I would run the straight and walk the curve of the track. I never ran the whole thing. Ever.
I keep telling myself that the more I do it, the easier it will get. Wasn't it supposed to be easier today?
As I said last week, I will do the 5K on Saturday. I will jog at least part of it. I will relish the silliness of the reindeer antlers Jen bought us to wear. And I hope, I hope, I hope I get caught up in the pack driven mania of the race. I am praying for race version of 'hive mind' to help propel me forward to complete this thing with dignity.
Some joy would be nice too. Just saying.