Motivational Disorder

I felt it as soon as I got up this morning: I was suffering from an acute case of Motivational Disorder, in its deadliest form!

'Why should I go for a run? What's the point?' part of me wondered.
So I put my fingers in ears and shouted to that part: 'Lalalalalala, I can't hear you, I can't hear you!' and quickly put on my running gear.

Well okay then...

Once faced with this 'fait accomplit' my motivation grudgingly agreed to run a ten miler. But since its completely unreliable I decided not to take my mobile phone with me. A wise decision it turned out, because after only five minutes it started to whine: 'It's hard going today! I really think ten miles is too much. Perhaps you could make it a three miler? Or even better: why not just call hubby to come and get you?!'

Bribery will get you further

Luckily my motivation is more crooked than Don Corleone, and very easy to bribe with the promise of a cup of coffee. And so I managed the five miles to the pancake house in Westendorp. Once there my motivation and I were finally in sync: we both wanted to go home. It still didn't feel easy, but we knew why we were doing it: to get home.

And when I finally collapsed on our couch, I felt the rewards surge through my body: that lovely feeling of a run completed, of a goal accomplished. And above all: the lovely knowledge I could have a Big Mac that evening without facing any consequences.

The unthinkable is unthinkable

On the days when it seems unthinkable to go out for a run, I alway do the unthinkable.
Because I know: it's even more unthinkable nót to go out for my run.