I spent the first thirty years of my life making a lot of excuses about my job, my wellness, my mental health, and the overall state of my life.
Some of those excuses were true. Many were lies I told myself.
Those days aren’t entirely over. I’m full of shit and lazy on countless occasions. But I’m also fully aware that I’m wholly accountable for all experiences in my life. From missed workouts to missed opportunities to be kind, it’s all on me.
So here I am, in the dog days of summer, unapologetically making excuses about why I don’t want to wake up and run.
The list is long. It’s hot out. I’m sore. It’s also rainy. I’m really effing tired. My hormones are off. I’m either having my period, just had my period, or about to get my period.
Nothing but excuses, some of which are valid.
But here’s the thing: I make excuses, but I don’t quit. I actually enjoy complaining, which is an awful character flaw, but it’s mine. Then I get my ass out of bed and do whatever needs to be done.
So I’m sticking to my program, dodging summer thunderstorms, managing my period, and waking up at 4:45 AM to work out 4x/week. And I’m whining about it.
With thirteen weeks left until the Chicago Marathon, this is my strategy. I will hate every moment of this until it’s over, and then I’ll look back on it fondly. And I’ll probably have my period for the entire length of my marathon training. Let’s all just get used to it, okay?