Failure

Before I get into the things I've done wrong, let's not forget the things I've done right: I haven't had a piece of candy at work for two weeks. I've been doing my yoga and letting Jillian Michaels torture me on a semi-regular basis. I've been getting out and running, even though I'd rather burrow deeper under the covers.

Enter today. A return to sub-zero temps and wicked wind chills. I knew I wouldn't be running outside and planned all day to run on my friend's treadmill after Sophie went to bed. And then my husband decided he needed to go to Menards, so I couldn't leave the house. What I should have done: gone to Plan B and let Jillian make spaghetti noodles out of my arms. What I actually did? Watched How I Met Your Mother and ate a brownie the size of my face. Oops.

There is a tiny little voice, a very small piece of me that keeps saying, "You don't have to run now. It's too cold. Wait until it's warmer - you'll have plenty of time to run then." I think learning how to shut that voice up (instead of feeding it brownies) is part of what makes us runners. It's unrealistic to think that we'll never give in to that voice (unless, of course, you're Frayed Laces, which in that case, you're my idol. Seriously.).

I'm not going to give in to that evil little voice tomorrow. I'm going to go upstairs right now and pack my bag with every piece of Under Armour I own, my Sauconys, my Yak Trax, and my Garmin, and take it with me to work tomorrow. And after work, now matter how cold or how windy it is, I'm getting my butt outside and running. Because I don't need any more brownies, I don't need any more feelings of failure, I just need to run.