On some days I was still able to get a workout done by going in late to work or running afterwards. But, on other days, well, I just didn't go at all. This failure worked on my conscience every day. As I've said before, my life always goes better with exercise. The reverse also seems to be true.
I was starting to think that I was just getting too old for this, but when I went to bed last night I made a resolution for this morning. Run 6 miles. No matter what.
When the time to go came around, of course, it was cold and foggy. Perfect. Not. The same covers were tugging at me, the same stiff joints were calling out. The Today Show looked interesting.
I had to be somewhere at 9:30. The time I had to get it done was ticking away. It was now or maybe later or maybe not.
Tights. Two layers of warmth up top. Shoes tied. iPod on. Gloves on. Garage door up. Garage door down. No turning back. Watch starts. I'm off.
For the first three miles I felt old and tired and slow, but then things started to change. I started to feel loose and fast. Okay, maybe not fast, but certainly loose. Not young, but not terribly old either. I got lost in the fresh air and the cool mist and some favorite music. And the next three miles went by in no time at all.
I made it. One step at a time. It has been a good day since then, too.
This afternoon I let the sheets pull me back in for some nap time together. We're on good terms again. This may be a nice compromise.