6 weeks from the marathon, a week after getting home. This morning I finally struggled out the door to run - motivated by my grumpy mood, bulging stomach and the 1/2 of a chocolate bar I ate last night (of course, it was good, dark organic chocolate, but still, it had plenty of calories).
I won't lie -- it was miserable starting out. But there was an undercurrent of feeling Right so I clung to that and kept the feet moving.
A spiral of thoughts circled: 1) I feel awful - how could I get so out of shape in just 6 weeks? 2) Summer mornings in Pomfret are the most beautiful moments. Either Murray or I should be exercising every morning at 6 am from Mother's Day to Halloween just to enjoy this perfect time of day. 3) I really needed to do this. I'm going to keep running 3-4 times a week, and add in yoga the days I don't run. I'll feel so much better if I do that. 1) I feel awful. Etc.
It was shocking how I struggled through what used to be my short, easy run. But just when I was heading up backstretch hills and toying with the thought of walking I glanced at my watch and saw I was running <10 min miles! I can still run, my legs/lungs/heart do work and I'm not a total lump of fat. Those numbers gave me the boost to get up the last hills and into our driveway. I think I've caught myself before total deterioration set in and I don't plan on letting myself go just yet.
I appreciate that it has been mostly positive motivation to get me moving. I was a more pleasant, serene and energetic person when I was exercising regularly and I missed all that. The negative motivations are mostly weight related - I bought a dress when I was in marathon form and it isn't looking as good on me now (which kills me).
No matter what got me out, I'm happy I went out today. I feel better for it and ate Murray's delicious pancakes without guilt when I got back home.