There’s been a bit of a lack of motivation lately while running, and it all culminated on Friday. After four hours of sleep, an intense Exreme Boot Camp workout, and a cup of coffee yogturt (no caffiene! Woot!), I still wasn’t feeling the running vibe. So I lollygagged around, returning emails and CraigsListing, and calling Trader Joe’s to return some cheese that had stunk up the entire apartment (which is another story). At ten, far later than my usual start time, I finally yanked my hair into a ponytail, set up the iPod for This American Life, and gloomily walked out the door.
So I start jogging and bargain with myself, saying I just have to make it out for half an hour — doing something is better than doing nothing. About eight minutes in, I see a woman walking down the sidewalk towards me. She looks a bit like my mom, dressed in a baggy button up shirt and jeans. Her hair is short, and she’s obviously smaller than her clothes make her appear.
As I pass this matronly doppelganger, she lifts her hands and offers me two thumbs up with a smile. I grinned back, and kept running. I made it thirty six minutes, 1/5 longer than I had talked myself into. So thank you, double thumbs up lady. Sometimes we all just need an atta boy.
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