“Our doubts are traitors,
and make us lose the good we oft might win,
by fearing to attempt.”

– William Shakespeare

Self doubt is a troublesome thing. I felt it weighing on me while I struggled through my 2.5 miles this afternoon. How am I supposed to go 26 miles and 385 yards if I can’t jog three miles comfortably? I’m so screwed.

Reminding myself that this was just the first run, I listened to my breathing and then looked down at my new watch. I had no idea what it was telling me. Oh, wait, there’s the time. I’ve been running for 4:45? Four minutes and forty-five seconds?  No way! Feels like 10. And that’s the way the run went. It was about 80 degrees with a high sky and hot sun. I tried to get my breathing into a rhythm but eventually I’d end up trying to control it too much and just feel winded.

My heels started bothering me so I tried adjusting to land mid-foot, but that just made me shuffle. I ignored the pain and eventually it became dull enough for me to forget about. Although four hours later, they both feel sore, along with the wicked bug bite I got on the back of my calf. I saw a very black insect there when I was stretching, swiped it away and noticed a hard bump with a black stinger, or maybe a leg or antenna, left in its spot. I tore into it with my finger nail and removed whatever was deposited there leaving a small but slightly bloody hole in my leg.

Leg muscles are sore already too. My IT bands are both tight and pissed. Rolling out on the, uh, roller thing, helped. It caused a weird skin irritation on my bare legs, brought tears to my eyes when it was under my hips, but all in all, I think we’ll end up friends. What have I gotten myself into?

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