Weekly Running Reflection: Showing Up Anyway
This week wasn’t about speed.
It wasn’t about mileage.
It was about decisions.
I did get my runs in earlier in the week. One felt solid and controlled. Another was fueled by frustration—I ran angry, faster than planned, letting emotion pull me forward. That run reminded me that effort doesn’t always come from the healthiest place, but movement still teaches you something when you’re paying attention.
Then there was the run that didn’t.
I missed it.
Not because I couldn’t physically do it—I know I could have. I missed it because I was overwhelmed. I had been at swim finals for my son, and I’m always proud of him. Always. Watching him compete, push himself, and show up matters deeply to me. But swim meets are hard for me. Loud. Chaotic. Constant. Extremely overstimulating. By the time we got home, my back was bothering me, my nervous system was fried, and that familiar internal voice showed up—the one that offers very reasonable excuses to stop.
I listened to it.
That’s the part that stuck with me. Not guilt, exactly—frustration. Because I know the difference between rest and avoidance, and this time it was the latter.
Today’s run came with its own resistance.
The temperature dropped overnight. Not cold by northern standards, but cold for Houston. Breezy. Uncomfortable. Every step felt like work. Running has always been hard for me, and right now it’s especially hard—physically, mentally, rhythmically. This was a true run-walk effort from start to finish.
But I went.
Three miles.
Average pace: 12:35.
Negative splits.
Not easy—done anyway.
What mattered most wasn’t the pace or the stats. It was walking out the door after a missed day. It was choosing not to let yesterday make today’s decision. It was remembering why I’m getting back to running in the first place.
I’m not running to prove anything.
I’m running because I love it—even when it doesn’t love me back.
I’m running to move, to feel better about myself, and to experience the quiet confidence that comes from doing something hard on purpose.
Right now, running is a grind. Every step feels earned. And that’s okay. Hard doesn’t mean wrong. Hard means honest.
This week reminded me that consistency isn’t perfection—it’s course correction. It’s missing a day and still choosing to show up the next one. It’s learning when to push, when to reflect, and when to simply put one foot in front of the other.
Not chasing easy.
Chasing honest.
And for now, that’s enough.
