Straight away as the run began, I knew I couldn’t make it. Before five minutes were even up, I was huffing rather badly. My ankles and calves weren’t hurting, but I was feeling the strain more than last time.
At ten minutes, I was sure I wouldn’t make it even half way, but I promised myself I’d try. Somehow, I did make it half way. This being a 30 minute run, half way was a lot closer to my turn-around spot than previous runs. At the turn-around point, I wasn’t very hopeful at all, but I resolved to run as far as possible. If I could make it to the top of my road, at around 20-25 minutes, I knew I’d be somewhat happy at least.
At 25 minutes in to a run that could only end badly, I decided to run for as long as possible. At 29 minutes, I knew I had almost nothing left.
But somehow, I had enough left for another 60 seconds of running.
I made it.
At 30 minutes, I slowed to a brisk walk for the warm-down walk home, and realized the horrible truth: I needed to do this two more times this week… and then every other day for the rest of my life.