November 1st 2020
Today I was so enjoying slip-sliding around an aging, autumnal forest on my run this morning, that I began to regret imposing this arbitrary distance restriction on myself.
I’ve committed to running 5k every day, and so far I’ve done that for 182 days in a row. Today was the end of my 26th week. Tuesday will be 6 full months of 5k every day. And that’s cool and all, but today I wanted to go further. I wanted to carry on. I felt like I could have ran ten miles today.
My legs were in the mood, and my brain was in the mood. I just wanted to keep going, in a straight line through the forest, and see how far I could get before I absolutely had to turn back.
Instead, I had to turn around after 2.5k, lest I go too far over my self-subscribed distance limitation. Every run has been 5k, and it would trigger me to have a rogue 10 miler in there. Plus, if I ran ten miles today, I can’t guarantee that I’d be able to run tomorrow. However, I know that if I only ran 5k today, then I’ll be in an okay state to run tomorrow.
And so, it was just 5k. Maybe one day this ‘five a day’ fad I’ve committed to will morph into a tad more, like five, or ten miles a day, but for now, I need to make decisions today that will permit me to run again tomorrow.
Until tomorrow, and thankfully, I didn’t slip on my arse or break my ankle.