I happen to know exactly when my Judgement Day is coming. One week from tomorrow, Saturday Sept. 12th. At precisely 8 am.
You see, there is a 5k in the city that morning, one that I talked up and got my dad to register for. My dad, who's not even a runner, and is now probably more prepared than I am.
The problem is, I have been very lax with my running recently. As in, I'm not doing it. I did pretty well while in Utah, and boasted working out 9 times, or an average of 3 times a week while there. Not all of it was running, but most of it was. Since coming home...I think I've gone once. I have all of the typical yet valid excuses, chief among them being time. I insist on running alone, as going with the girls almost defeats the purpose, the solitude I crave. That means in order to go when Timm is home with the girls, I have to go at 5 am or after 8 pm. Unfortunately both of those times are dark so I don't feel comfortable going on the greenway. And unfortunately I don't relish waking up at 5 am, which is practically the middle of the night, and might as well be 2 am. It feels insane.
I feel wayward- like I am due for some serious repentance that is not going to be easy. I am going to pay the price and the longer I wait, the harder it's going to be. I am fortunate enough to know my day of reckoning, and there is going to be some blood, sweat, and tears if I am going to emerge relatively unscathed. My goal is to run about 1 5k a month and improve my time every time, at least for now when I have SO much room for improvement. At this rate I'll be lucky to finish.
I am going to have to exercise a lot of willpower this week and spend a lot of time repenting- not on my knees, but on my feet.