I think I’ve lost the will to run. Twice this week I opted to sleep in rather than putting on my running shoes, and this morning, I almost turned off my alarm. Here’s the conversation I had with myself:

• 4:59 AM: I wake up. “Ugh. Why does this always happen? One minute ’til the alarm goes off!”
• 5:00 AM: Alarm goes off. I hit the snooze button. “Ten more minutes. Just ten more minutes.”
• 5:07 AM: Alarm goes off. I hit the snooze button. “My back hurts. I’m not sure I can do the seven miles.”
• 5:08 AM: “You’ve ran with worse. Just take some Advil.”
• 5:09 AM: “I ate that bratwurst and four s’mores last night. I might get the trots again.”
• 5:10 AM: “Good point. Hate to do that again.”
• 5:11 AM: “But Heather lent you the Shuffle and Harry Potter. You can’t not use them.”
• 5:12 AM: “Ugh.”
• 5:13 AM: I drag myself silently kicking and screaming from bed.

Even though I wasn’t crazy about my run this morning, I’m glad I went. I finished 6.6 miles in 1:17:22 (11:39/mile—hey, another sub-12-pacer!), and I felt good the entire time. Weeks like these make me nervous that I’ll lose motivation for the full marathon next spring. I’ve had a ton of support this summer from OMRR because the half marathon is local, but the marathon I have my eye on is out of town, and I won’t have that this winter. I guess the bumper stick is true: This doesn’t get any easier; you just get faster.