Ran tonight. Two miles total, with almost another mile walking. I haven't run in a couple of weeks (and not consistently for months), so that would have been enough to wear me out.
But no, I threw salt on an open wound: I rode my bike to the rec center.
Who is this girl? The one who kind of likes working out, really likes running, loves biking, and keeps pushing herself to do more, to be more, to not settle.
If the me of four years ago met the me of today on the street, Me 1.0 would be impressed by Me 2.0. She'd look at me and sigh, thinking, "Wow. She does stuff I could never do." Me 1.0 was not a runner, and didn't believe she ever would be.
Even recently, people have commented that I don't seem like a runner. But I guess that's part of the reason I'm doing it.
I've never been one to settle for other people's expectations of me. Tell me I can't, and I'll find a way to prove you wrong.
Even if it means running 26.2 miles.
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