As I listen to the wind gusts (between 45 and 75 kilometres per hour, I'm told) roar their occasional way past my building, I can't help but feel just the tiniest bit smug. You see, after a week of not running (due to illness in the first half of the week and some minor in-office surgery at the end of it), I got myself outside and ran my scheduled 10-miler today, before the winds got truly nasty.
I do realize that, compared to the heroic things that so many people do every day of their lives, this particular accomplishment is pretty piddly. For heaven's sake, I didn't even run the distance that fast, averaging 11MPH at what felt at times like a laborious plod.
But I got it done anyway. And sometimes, it's the glow of having H'dTFU that counts.
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