Good Monday morning, kids!
I hope you all had a fantastic weekend-- I know mine was pretty great. Well, mostly. There was that whole running in the insane heat thing...
Let's talk about that for a second, shall we?
Bottom line? I'm insane.
No, really. There are some things I've found myself taking a weird sense of pride in since I started this whole running adventure a while back, and I feel like I'm not alone.
Who wants to talk about running 8.5 miles in the blistering heat?! Runners (at least this one)!
Who wants to take Instagram photos of their torn up toes and complain we need a pedicure? Roger that!
Who likes to tell people who play sports, "my sport is how people in your sport get punished?" Yup, this gal.
This weird pleasure I take in beating myself up is not new, of course, for anyone who knows me.
With rowing, it was all about the blisters on the palms of your hands. Ice skating was all about the number of bruises on your rump and hip bones.
Why do I take pride in these weird things? They are reminders that nothing I want to do well comes easy.
In order to make it through my upcoming marathon, I've got to log the ugly miles in the heat and keep going when I'd rather stop. I've got to deal with the torn up feet which no human should have to suffer through seeing in flip flops on the beach.
All the battle scars I have were well-earned.