What the hell. With repetition comes belief. (Well, after enough repetition.) So I'll keep telling myself that.
Exercise du jour: 30 minutes
Update du 8:43 pm
Inner slug [gloating]: It's too late, you're too tired, the cramps are too painful. You'll never run tonight, never!
Self [Fingers in ears]: La, la, la, I can't hear you... here I go...
Update du 9:02 pm
Maybe I should take the fingers out of my ears and put some iPod earphones there instead.
Really, here I go. Honest. I mean it this time.
Argh. After 16 minutes of calf-burning agony, I've decided my body was trying to tell me something. It's the flimsiest exercise session yet, but I'm going to count this as earning a star, if only because it hurt so much. Times like this I could really appreciate a mournful violin playing in the background, to emphasize the sad self-pitying atmosphere chez Merry at the moment. Maybe just a small violin?