But it happened. “I just wish I could teleport across the water” was my thought yesterday as I peered across the harbour to the general area where my work – and the end of my run – was located. Usually, my lunch runs are great, but for some reason, yesterday was just awful.
It started positive enough, the sun was shining, the sky was blue, and while my legs felt a little heavy, I figured once I got moving they would be fine.
My intention was a little fartlek workout that would take me for a few loops through the general Selkirk area, across the trestle and along the Gorge waterfront, before crossing back over the blue bridge and heading back to my desk for a few hours.
On my first “effort” I knew it was going to be a tough one. My legs were barely turning over and everything felt tense from my shoulders right down to my toes.
I pushed through the first ¾ of the fartlek work I had planned out, but as I crossed the trestle and turned to go up a little hill, my legs just gave up. (Ok, well, maybe it wasn’t my legs so much as it was my head). I then did something I rarely ever do. I stopped. Looked at my watch, walked to the top of the hill and knew there wouldn’t be any more “efforts” happening on this day. I felt absolutely cooked. My thought of “I just wish I could teleport across the water” hit me.
Of course, I didn’t want to end on such a bad note, so I decided just to find a comfortable pace and finish off the run as positively as I could. As I neared the blue bridge and knew my run was coming to an end, my dreams of teleportation slowly faded. I now just wanted to stay outside and play in the sunshine all afternoon. Fickle or what?
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