After not being able to run due to illness for 6 weeks, running on Monday - though difficult since I'm not completely healthy - felt so freeing. Yet when yesterday dawned and I was set to head out on another run, I broke down. I talked myself out of going, even though the sun was shining and the weather was perfect. I cleaned my house and watched t.v. instead, telling myself I'd go after the kids were in bed last night.
But I didn't.
Today a million voices rage in my head, my old demons telling me that I'm not good enough and that I'm not going to be able to meet my goals and wouldn't it just be easier to give up now? Then there are the other voices, the voices of the many friends I've made since I started running, telling me to keep going, that I've come so far already, and that it's just putting one foot in front of another. There's also my voice, the voice that I found through running, reminding me that it's really not a competition, and there's no reason to try to be anything other than what I am. I don't have to race, I don't have to run a set number of miles per week - I can just run.
The fear is heavy today. Fear that I will give up, like I've given up everything else in my life, just quit, and walk away. Fear, too, of disappointing people even if I don't give up - fear that I'll never quite measure up. I want to scream, because I know that it doesn't really matter what anyone else says, or thinks - that it only matters that I do what is right for myself, that I do what I can, as best as I can.
I really wish I had gone running yesterday.