Remember that run. That run that you didn’t want to do.
After a long day at work and a long drive home in the pouring rain, you know you’ve got to run.
Get home, run the bath for the kids, get changed, put the kids in the bath and kiss them goodnight as you head out.
Leave a loving partner at home doing the hard work to help you chase your dreams on the winter streets.
No time for dinner and no time to waste. The only numbers that count are the 50 minutes or whatever your training plan dictates.
It’s dark and raining. Hard. Trainers have just dried out from the last run. Wear a hat, gloves and jacket in a futile attempt at staying warm and dry.
Close the front door and start running. Unable to spot the puddles on the road. Streetlights illuminating the rain splashing on the ground like sparks.
Feet soaked through. No point in wearing gloves. Head’s too hot with the hat on, too cold with it off. Splash in to a puddle. The first mile is done.
Hang on. If you’re out, you’re out. Make it count. You signed up to this for a reason. Make it mean something.
Pick up the pace. Work hard and envisage the route. Picture the streets you’ll run and keep the milestones in mind.
The rain gets harder. So what? Wet already and still running well.
Good pace kept up. Run nearly finished. Add on a loop to top it up by a mile. The reach the front door with a splash and a smile.
Remember that run. The one you’ve just done.
Remember it when you just can’t be arsed, or when the plan dictates a few miles too far.
Remember that run on a Saturday in April, knowing that tomorrow you’ll feel proud because you did the hard work one night in January.