I run three days a week. I have done this off and on for four kids (it's easier to say that than keep track of the years). Each morning, as I hit the sidewalk, I groan. Not merely an under-my-breath, mostly inaudible sort of groan, but a loud, full body, complete with eye roll GROAN.
I don’t want to go for a run. No mom of a newborn who’s had a few random hours of sleep wants to chuck herself out the door for some cardio. No Minnesotan wants to leave the house when it’s chilly out and they have to put on too many layers of clothing. Lord, no sleeping person even wants to get out of bed because it's comfortable and warm in there and the running is cold and high impact and UGH.
Scratch that.
Nobody wants to go running.
Don't get me wrong, people like running. But they like the effects of running. The middle parts (the wind in your hair! the hypnotic rhythm of your feet! the quiet! the nature! the time alone!) are fun. The end parts (a new PR! a good workout! a clear head!) are delightful. The health benefits (high metabolism! strong legs! increased endurance!) are fantastic.
But inertia is a bitch.
The effort to get out the door is immense and often feels insurmountable. Especially when there's a warm cup of coffee in your hand and blankets on the couch.
When I was running longer distances, I’d tell myself “the first mile is the hardest”. Which means, right now, basically the whole run is the hardest.
But if I don’t run that awful first mile right now, I’ll never get to that third or fourth mile. I'll never enjoy those middle parts, which are especially excellent in the springtime, blissfully quiet and relatively effortless and pretty and empowering.
So I’ll head out the door again tomorrow, and to start my awful mile and shake off the irritating nature of starting something hard, I'll let The Groan out, to which my neighbors have become accustomed.
Unfortunately, strangers passing by, have not.