I’ve been really struggling with my runs lately. 

Let me rephrase that.  My runs lately have made me want to jab a fork in my eyes, rip my lungs out with dirty hands and pretend to be roadkill. 

Apparently my problem was fairly simple, but I refused to listen.  I’ve been running too fast.  I took my running friends’ advice and slowed my roll.  It helped that the weather was cooler, and the humidity much lower - but the 5 miles was actually fairly simple.  I didn’t worry about time, how many people were in front of me, or when the run would be over.  I looked around at the big beautiful houses around me and talked to new people I hadn’t met on my training team. 

Tomorrow I go back to the three miles, but I’m going to slow it down there as well.  My biggest competitor has always been myself, but when I’m pushing myself so hard I’m ready to quit everything because it’s no fun anymore, it’s time to step back and be realistic.  My insistence on improving my time has something to do with the people I hang out with.  They are all better runners - they’ve been running for years - and they actually win trophies and medals when they run.  I’m running to burn calories, improve my fitness, and prove that I can do it.  I’m so far from competing I can’t even fathom winning anything, unless it’s the fat girl category (and yes, there actually is a category for women over 150 lbs - the Athenas - and I’ve never wanted to be less greek in my life). 

I’ve traditionally been terrible with any form of slowing down.  This is a bigger challenge to me - nearly - than finishing a half marathon.  I’m going to keep at it, and maybe the heavens will rain a Garmin down on me and I’ll be able to force myself to slow down.  My stupid iPhone running apps are terrible and either tell me I’ve run 0 distance in 3 hours 42 minutes or they say I’ve gone 23.3 miles in 5.45 minutes.