The Things I Say... to Myself

Shortly after 5:00 a.m. (that is in the morning, people) my alarm went off. Ah, stretch, take a deep breath, throw my alarm across the room, open my eyes because everything is dark - wait, all is dark because there is no sun this early, and sit on my bed while I try to remember why my alarm went off at this ungodly time in the morning. This was my process this morning. It was while I was sitting there in the dark (even my dogs weren't stirring) remembering I was going to tackle my 4 mile training run before work when I heard it. The unmistakable sound of giant sized raindrops hitting my roof and clunking on the ground. Now, I can run in the dark. I can run in the rain. But did I really have it in me to run in the dark AND the rain? The angel (or was it Connie - my fearless Learn to Run leader?) on my shoulder was saying, "You can do it! I know you can." Meanwhile, the devil who was perched on my other shoulder... the voice I usually listen to... was saying, "Kill that angel bitch and crawl back into bed. You can sleep for another hour and when you wake up it will be light outside. Sleep lady, sleep!" With one leg back underneath the covers I seriously contemplated listening to the evil voice. A warm, cozy bed sounded so much better than pounding my feet against the pavement outside. But I didn't give in. I stood up, got my gear on, send out a quick Facebook message into cyber space complaining about my fate, and told my dogs I loved them too much to take them out in this crappy weather.

Out the door I went. I made it to the end on my block (about 50 feet) when I realized I forgot to take a hit off of my inhaler before heading out the door. I stood there frozen with fear for a few seconds. Do I turn around and grab my inhaler? Do I keep going and concentrate on my breathing? Since I started running a year ago, I have never ventured out without using my inhaler. But I decided to throw caution to the wind (and there was plenty of wind) and try to run without it. If I went back to the house to get it, I wasn't sure I would leave again. And if I started to run and couldn't breathe, I would just stop and walk the 4 miles. Off I went... in the dark, rainy morning without my crutch... my inhaler. I am happy to say, I made it the four miles. I didn't stop, I didn't walk, I didn't die, and  I could  breathe. Ah, to think I almost stayed in bed.