Until my running mojo comes back.
Six miles on sked for this morning. At mile three, I wanted to bail. But I was very stern with myself. No, self, I said. You can bail from running, but you are going to get six miles in this morning if I have to beat you (me?) with a stick. Just like the good dominatrix I am.
So i started walking.
And then, voila, like magic, I started running. Cuz walking? Takes too long.
For all you enquiring minds: I tried to spare you, but y'all are relentless! So, for the record: I did not poop myself during Saturday's run, in large part due to Nancy Toby's * excellent prescription: one immodium upon waking; another 20 min before running; drink water til you burst (paraphrasing here); and salt yo'self up.
Now, I just need to schedule the lobotomy that will keep me from walking when there is no need to walk. I mean, I don't mind taking a walk break when needed, but I didn't need it on Saturday.
So there ya have it. No thrills, chills, or spills. So far. This week.
*NT is not a doctor, nor does she play one on the Internet. She knows a helluva lot about nutrition and poop, though.