A few weeks ago my coach, the normally laid back Mr Elson, called me out over my slacking and rang a peal over my head*.
I’m still quaking, so today, when my plan called for mile reps and my mojo called for extreme sloth, I talked myself into running kit and then talked myself out of the door. The first rep went well, but as soon as I eased back into my recovery, my chest tightened. Clump-of-earth** it. There was no way I was running a second rep with an iron band around my chest. I headed home for my inhaler. Two puffs later and my breathing was fine, but I was now sitting down with a tempting excuse to bail.
I replayed the peal. Was there any chance of me sticking to the plan? I stood up and walked towards the door. The sofa called my name. I stiffened my resolved, girded my loins and went out to finish my reps.***
* Any chance of you sticking to the plan once your exams are out the way? Just a thought.
** Or words to that effect.
*** Dear gods. Could I make more of a mountain out of a worm cast?