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75

75

After today, I will have run 75 miles since I began my training about 4 weeks ago.

75 miles.

That's practically the distance from San Diego to Orange County.

When I sit back and think about those miles, I can't help but feel proud.

I'm doing it. I'm waking up at 5:15 in the morning to get outside each day in the freezing cold and run. Every time my alarm has gone off, I have pushed through the temptation to hit snooze or skip altogether and gotten myself out of bed and into my running clothes.

And while I should feel proud, every now and then a bit of doubt creeps into my head.

Thoughts of, "it's not good enough." "It's really not that big of a deal." "You should be doing more." "You should have lost more weight, or have more toned legs by now." "But remember when you ate all of those cookies in the teacher's lounge yesterday?"

What the crap?!

Why is it do damn hard to accept and celebrate my progress without wishing it was more?

Why is it that instead of fully focusing on the awesomeness of what I have done, I focus on the cellulite on the back of my thighs.

I'm trying to work this out and so far I'm not so sure how to go about doing it. I know that I should stop thinking about my flaws and stop comparing myself to those who are younger, prettier, skinnier, smaller, more athletic... the list goes on and on. And there will always be those people. And I don't control them.

I control me. I control my thoughts. Remember when I said fear=thoughts + time?

Well, I need to listen to my own advice and either stop having those thoughts, or stop giving them any time to fester.

Because I AM A BADASS.

I AM AWESOME.

And, I'm not sorry about it. I'm not going to downplay it or pretend like my accomplishments are not important.

Because last weekend I ran 10 miles straight at a good, solid pace. And that is freaking amazing.


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