I went for my second run, tonight, of my second week of the Couch to 5K. I didn't want to go. It was hot and I wanted to hang out with Shaun and watch him play Fall Out on the Xbox. But he knew that I'd be unhappy later if I skipped my workout, so he said the magic words:
"Go for your run, and then we can go to the pub for a glass of wine when you get back."
So I went. It sucked. It was hard, and I wondered what I would do if I had to quit our running challenge. I imagined the post I would write to Natasha, explaining that I wanted to do it but the C25K was just too hard for me. After every interval, I told myself, "You can stop after the next one." But every one turned into another one, and soon enough I was done.
I felt amazing. And I walked the rest of the way home thinking of how proud I was, how this was another thing I had done, and how maybe I could just keep doing all these things, even when they sort of sucked. And I could see the CN Tower to the south, and I could see the sun, shining down on me and on my city, and I thought about Shaun and about wine and about work and blogging and yogurt and friends, and I thought:
"You should remember this moment. Because in a few years, you'll look back, and you'll know that this was a time in your life when you were truly happy."
I could never put my finger on it before, but that's what I love about working out. At first, I focus on all the bad small things: a pain in my hip, how my hair keeps falling into my eyes, sweat under my watch, that nagging thirst. But when it's all over, it's like my mind fills up with all the good big things: my sweetie, my friends, my job, my health, my heart, my joy, this blog, and you guys, and this whole crazy journey.
And people, you cannot buy that sort of thing. You gotta earn that shit, but all it costs is your own sweat.