Sunday, January 12, 2014
My goal on the treadmill today: Get in 30 minutes.
As I was setting up (fill water bottle, get shoes on), the slightly wimpy side of my psyche began its spiel: "So...30 minutes. I could walk two miles, then, right? Or, how about if I jog one mile and then walk the rest. Or...what if I just do two miles and then call it a night, no matter what the time says?"
From deep within me, a voice answered through clenched teeth, "I don't give a damn what you do. Just make sure that treadmill says 30:00 before you're done."
Miffed, I began jogging, a slow jog for one minute, a faster jog for three minutes. It's not much to brag about, but I did finish my first mile without out walking since the foot got cleared. My time was 11:40.
"Great work!" I told myself. "To celebrate, you should just walk another mile and then call it a night."
To my chagrin, that other voice popped up again: "That would only be 27 minutes. Not good enough."
"So walk. Stroll. Crawl. But you're still doing 30 minutes."
Long, disgruntled sigh. I keep jogging. Then I walk. Then I jog. Then I walk. I hit 2 miles around 25 minutes. The voice is smug; I can hear that its arms are crossed and a military smirk graces its imaginary face. "Five more minutes to go. What are you going to do?"
Walk. Jog. Walk. End result: 2.5 miles in 32 minutes. My spirits perk up. A bit longer, and I could have done a 5k.
The voice chuckles. "That's right. Get ready to do that on Tuesday."
I can't escape the voice...thankfully.