I might have been just a tad melodramatic yesterday. Just because I wasn't born with fantastic genes that allow me to go from 0 to 100 km within a week doesn't mean I can't build up to 100 km at all. Just because I can't run back-to-back marathons right now, doesn't mean that I won't be able to someday. So, instead of marinating in self pity, from now on I'll try to concentrate on what I can actually do right now. Like run a marathon without my legs falling off. Like run ultra intervals. That kind of thing. And be patient, of course.
Boy do I sound like a wise old cow with all that kumbaya, new age-y crap.
Ok, I'll 'fess up. This change of mood did not come about after hours spent in the lotus position meditating on the virtues of patience, nor after a sudden revelation that it doesn't matter since we're all going to die anyway; it came about this morning when I, on eager legs and icy pavements, high on endorphins, ran the 10 km to work and felt well rested enough afterwards to want to go for a long run tomorrow.
Suddenly, I could. Suddenly, my muscles weren't sore any more. Suddenly, anything was possible. The Force is strong with this one.