Nine miles. I feel so badass, but also so very, very sore. Nine miles were way harder than eight for some reason. It’s possible that today was so hard because I’m slightly under the weather but also for some reason this run was very mentally tough. This was the first time that I had to really work to believe that I could finish and the first time I’ve ever had a major naysayer inside my head.
Around mile 6 my butt muscle (sorry for the non-technical term!) started to really hurt and this little voice in my head was all “just stop and walk. Just stop and go back. You still have so far to go, you’ll never make it….” So discouraging and I couldn’t tune her out. She stayed there making fun of me the rest of the way.
In a weird (but still bad) way it was kind of motivational. If you know me, you know that there are three things I hate: people telling me what to do, quitting and failing. So there was no way I was going to let the evil voice in my head win. Still, she made things super-unpleasant and by the last mile I had to resort to bribing her (me?) with promises of Starbucks and pie if she would just let me finish.
That dumb voice pops up a lot — before staff meetings where I’m presenting, on long flights to and from the states I’m trying to help, at 3 a.m. the night before a big meeting, before every speaking engagement or panel. A lot.
I started running for a lot of reasons — the desire to be stronger, the desire to live for a long time, the need for an anxiety outlet (and strong aversion to taking my Lexapro…) — and I’m realizing that conquering that little voice of doubt in my head is just one more thing I’m earning one mile at a time.