20 mile run today in the rain.
It was cold - somewhere around 50 degrees - and rained steadily all day, making it one of the worst long runs I've ever experienced. I've never been one to shy away from the elements, but three hours in such conditions, completely alone, made it a true test of mental grit.
I hit my breaking point around mile 17. I could barely take it anymore and wanted more than anything to stop running. So I did. I walked some and then turned around to go home, but I stopped. I didn't want to feel like a failure. So I turned around and kept running. Then stopped. And so it went for several minutes, unable to summon the strength to either quit or keep going.
I hated the question I was now forced to examine: what am I doing out here? And its answer: chasing something that very well may never happen. I could be at home sitting on the couch in my sweats, drinking chai and reading a book, or riding the bandwagon out to Flyersville in a haze of beer, or spending time with Stevie. Instead I'm out here by myself, plodding along through the rain, doubt compounding and increasing exponentially...
But I did finish the run.
Score one for the home team.