I practiced the pre-decide tonight:  I took the kids to Chick-fil-a for dinner– a treat for all of us, since I strongly dislike cooking dinner when Brian is gone.  (Though 4/5ths of us are still here, it feels so different!)  

I’m trying to make wiser choices with my food intake, so i’d already decided on the chicken strips salad.  The guy asked what i’d like to drink, and I nearly broke down for Dr Pepper but didn’t.  And the whole time they were eating fries and nuggets, and i was thinking of the original chicken sandwich with mayo and a Dr P, I wondered, “Did i really make the best choice?”   But now, feeling completely not gross inside, I believe i did.  

 

Also on the pre-decide & stick-to:  today on the training plan,  9 miles.  Didn’t seem like a big deal, last weekend was 8, so this is a logical next step. Until i walked out the door:  90% humidity and already warm (almost hot) at 7:30 am.  

Brian needed to get out the door pretty early for an out-of-town wedding, so I skipped my usual fuel (partial cup of coffee and spoonful of peanut butter and honey), and just went for it.  Last week’s long run, while tough, had exceeded my expectations, mostly because i actually completed it.  And it hurt, but it was rewarding:  i was so glad i’d done it. 

In addition to the negative impact of weather and no food, this was also my first long run alone this go ’round.  Somehow running alone was no big deal when i was in tip-top shape, uh, about ten years ago now.  I don’t think i’ve ever wanted an iPod so badly as miles four through six today– dying for a distraction.  And this is what is wierd: i wasn’t really hurting (yet), just feeling sorta dull and so much slower and less good than i’d hoped.  

So i made a note of how i felt, of the nagging temptation to basically curl up in the fetal position on the side of the road there and take a nap, and that little voice inside insisting that whether or not i finished was “no big deal” (“no big deal” is my classic cop out, you know), even the part that kept reminding me that my running wardrobe looked way dorkier (not to mention less moisture-wicking) than the other runners out  there.

 And i decided to deny my feelings and stick to my facts:  I am working to reach a goal, and in order to get there, today’s run was nine miles.  And i know i can do that, since i just did 8. 

 

So every time they surfaced, I reminded those sneaking feelings that i knew of their deception;  they way they egg me on into taking the easy way out all the time, and that I just wasn’t having any of it.  So i did what i said and intended to do, and finished.