You'll Never Know Until You Open the Door or Building the Active Runner Dad -- Greg.1 part IV

I thought  that my morning run was going to be a disaster.  All the signs were pointing a real slug-fest.  I had slept hard and didn't even hear my alarm going off at 4:30 until my wife woke me.  I stumbled and teetered around for several minutes before I could figure out what planet I was on.  After I realized that I was still on Earth, the reset of my reality seemed to fall into place, and I knew that it needed to get ready for my run.  I wanted to go back to sleep, but the idea of an afternoon run in mid-June was all the motivation that I needed, so I stumbled to the shower. 

I didn't open my front door until 5:45am.  What did I do in that hour and fifteen minutes, you ask?  DREAD MY RUN.  My legs were heavy, mouth was dry, nose was runny, and I was just all out of sorts.  I kept thinking of my five mile course and no part of it looked good.  In my mind, The hills looked bigger and each intersection more busy than the last.  The closer that I got to getting ready the worse I felt.  I got my body glide and deodorant confused, my cats was wanting to play, and my socks were AWOL.  Still, I knew that I need to do this run.  The dread would only compound if I went back to bed and tried for an evening run.  I couldn't decide if I wanted to take my water bottle and debated with myself for a good seven minutes, then filled it up with ice and water, only to change my mind and leave it.  I felt like an ass . . . an ass with shoes that weren't broken in enough.  It's bad enough to feel like an ass, but to feel like an ass with shoes that are guaranteed to cause blisters is the worst.

Putting on my blister makers, I knew that I was making a mistake.  I had to use the restroom, so I took off my unbroken shoes and went to the restroom for the third time.  Afterward, I put on my sole busters, pick up my Old Bob, who already had signal (thank you skylight), turned on my I-pod: Broken Bells -- I planned on listening to the whole CD.  Then, I opened the door and instantly everything went from wrong to right.  The air was cool, the streets were quiet, and my legs felt good.  When I began running, I felt like I was running upright and solid.  My shoes still weren't broken in and I knew that at least one blister was unavoidable, but everything else was fine.  In fact, it was more than fine.  It was going to be a good day dammit! 

Lesson for The Active Runner Dad is that worrying about is often much worse than doing it.  You have to be willing to go outside and face whatever the day has in store for you or your doomed to a lifetime of failure and frustrations.  I know that the isn't rocket science and that man other folks already understand these things, but unfortunately, I have not been one of these people in the past.  Far too often excuses have won out and I have gone back to bed rather than opening up the door to face the day.