I'm a bit of a masochist. I like forcing myself to do things I don't always like. To make myself do something others might think is hard, or crazy. Why? There is something in me that pushes me. That makes me think I'm never doing enough. Never fast enough, never far enough, never busy enough, never good enough. I'm in a constant battle to prove myself to...well to myself. And your always your worst critic.

I ran sixteen miles on Saturday. SIXTEEN. I've run it before, I've run farther before, there are people that run sixteen as a warm up. But for some reason, on this particular day, on this particular run, I had a turning point. For the season, for my training, for everything. I usually get pretty hard on myself when I'm running. Don't stop. Keep pace. RUN FASTER. And I usually can't keep up with myself. But this time I did. I kept pace, I didn't stop, and when I did, I continued to encourage. Good job, your doing great, only a few more to go. The kind of encouragement you get from your friends and family. I don't have that anymore, or I don't allow myself to have that. It's me and only me out there. It's me and only me crossing the finish line. It's me and only me dressing the blister's and wrapping my ankle, and icing my knee.
When I got home, I lost it on my front stairs. Not crying, but sobbing, the way I did after I finished my first marathon. I don't think it was so much the run or the exhaustion that made me cry though...

There is something amazing about awakening after a life time of being hard on yourself, for no particular reason, other then the fact that you can, and really taking pride, finally, in something you did. That the time doesn't matter, or what place you came in, but that you finished something. Something that was hard, something that was crazy. Something you knew you could always do, if you just let yourself do it. And finally be PROUD of that.

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