« "I'd Shut It Down..." | Main | TerraPass »


This past Sunday, I had scheduled a long run for myself -- sixteen miles, actually, which would have been two miles more than my long run two weeks before and would have been my longest run ever.

About four miles into the run, I started asking myself, "Do I really want to run sixteen miles today?" At six miles, I had a choice: turn left for a sixteen-mile run, or turn right for a nine-mile run. I turned right. Here, presented in the order in which they occurred to me, are the rationalizations I came up with while trying to decide what to do:

  • My first half-marathon is five weeks away, so I could run as little as eight miles today and still be on schedule.
  • I've been tired during my runs lately. I've probably pushed myself too far, too fast -- from seven miles in early December to fourteen miles in early January.
  • My orthopaedist just advised me to permanently cut back on my running once I run a marathon. My knees and ankles just aren't built for it. No wonder I've been in pain.
But the best rationalization of all was the one I came up with after I had made my decision:
  • When people ask me how far I ran this weekend, saying, "I wimped out and only ran nine miles" sounds pretty freaking cool.


TrackBack URL for this entry:

Post a comment