My alarm went off at 6:00am this morning and I turned it off. I didn't hit "snooze," I just turned it off. There wasn't any way I was getting myself out of bed to run three miles. I'll spare you the details, but this happens to me about once every month. ANYWAY. I let my mind pay too much attention to the way that I was feeling that I had completely forgotten about the way I'd feel AFTER my run. And yes, as I sit here now and write this, I am filled with regret. Perhaps if I had read this, I would have found it in me to lace up and go:
Sigh. And sad. Epic fail—but honestly, I've been popping Advil all day. I'll catch up with an awesome four-miler this weekend. No more cop-out training runs! Focus, Tara.
Speaking of focus, I power-shopped like a madwoman today. Mostly for some decorative gear for the living room we're in the middle of redecorating, but when a girl walks into TJ Maxx for house stuff, she never walks out with just house stuff. It's as bad as Target for me, really. Sweet score alert:
Oh, and if you're wondering who Mina Samuels is, she wrote Run Like a Girl and it's actually a pretty decent book. I reviewed it a few years ago. It's full of girl power and athleticism.
Question: Is there a time that an excuse got the best of you, leading to fitness regret and/or fail? Tell me about it.