I can’t believe it.
I can’t believe that I went running for the second time in as many days. I’m not a runner. I made fun of people who ran. I may now grudgingly admire those people running. Though I do have my standards right now. Early in the morning or at dusk – none of this running at the height of the sun or heat for me, thank you very much. I already do accidental hot yoga on the weekends. No need to add to my insanity.
So, who am I going to blame for this spat of wanting to be more physically fit? LAF for all her waxing about running? No.
That’s not fair. I know who’s to blame. And that person would be me.
I’m doing the whole could to 3k thing on my mobile, so I don’t have to keep track of when I need to switch from walking to jogging/running. I felt ridiculous the entire time I was running, like I wasn’t supposed to be running, I was supposed to be walking and look how ridiculous you are trying to run like all the other runners.
I told that part of my brain to shut the fuck up. I was going to start running and I would run it into the ground if it didn’t shut up. It shut up…for the time being. I’m sure that hypercritical part of myself (and who doesn’t have a hypercritical part of themselves) will just run along with me tomorrow when I attempt day three.
I briefly touched up the impostor syndrome in this post, way back when (read: earlier this year). I often wonder if this impostor syndrome isn’t a symptom of some other underlying cause (ie low self-esteem) but then I tend to just say, well, fuck it. Do it anyway. Then I shrug, shelve the damn thought and do it anyway. I suppose it would be healthier to examine why I doubt myself so much (and I have a few theories) but in the grand scheme of things,
I am amazed that I could do the 60 second running without giving up….even if I feel ridiculous doing it. But whatever. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to collapse.