Indecision. It defines me. It is a fault. It is who I am. It is my life.
I pounded out the hills today, all 1745ft of them, but it is becoming painfully clear that I am not ready for the Marathon. It might be time to go back to the Kiddy race and wreck it like I did two years ago. I am driven by the fact that a week ago, I ran a foot race FASTER than I did 2 years ago. One of the many voices in my head keep telling me at race time, at age 46 (yes...46!), I am top 20. Not a bad way to spend your birthday...
But the other side tells me that I have unfinished business in the big boy's race. Only 30 days to pull the trigger.
Then 18 days to mind-fuck myself into a competitive rage. This is easy for me.
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