I had a horrible morning. Like, epically awful. In fact, most mornings lately I wake up, turn on my computer and think, "What fresh hell will this bring today?" So yeah, it was one of those mornings. Today also happened to be my first run for the half-marathon. So all I wanted to do was have a stiff drink, a Happy Meal (literally, a Happy Meal), and to watch the Grammy's over and over again in my very cozy bed. (On that note, the Grammy's were awesome and while the 3-D Michael Jackson tribute was difficult to watch without the glasses, getting to see the likes of Beyonce and Rihanna wear them made it totally worthwhile.) But instead of all of that wonderfulness, I had a 2 mile run ahead of me.
I should also mention that I have always thought people who wax poetic about how running makes them feel great (emotionally, endorphins and such), are pretty much full of it. Preparing for this run I had a whole post brewing in my head about how the running didn't really help make me feel better but the Jameson and the Ben & Jerry's did and thusly, I am right and you are all wrong.
Resisting my want to bag the run and head for the bar, I ran.
And honestly, I apologize. You were not all full of shit all this time. In fact, you all may have been right all along. I feel wonderful and my morning troubles have been nicely tucked away into a tiny box, never to be opened again.
All this does not mean I will not be returning for Monday night bowling and beers. Baby steps here people. Baby steps and rewarding oneself for being great.
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