a hard decision that wasn't really hard

I've decided to not run the marathon this weekend.

and I am completely, totally, and utterly ok with it.

Really, I am.

Even before I found out my poor running partner and fellow road tripper had bronchitis, I was dreading the whole thing. 

The 7.5 hr car trip.

Running another 26.2 miles after months and months of training and racing. 

I could drag my husband and children to Mississippi, 4 days after traveling 13 hours and attempt to sleep in a hotel room with said children but I'm not insane. or cruel.

I want to sleep in on Saturday, run a reasonable, enjoyable amount of miles, and then spend the day with my family.

This is the first time I have ever felt this way about a race. I've been anxious and nervous but never this apathetic. 

That was sign #1 that I should probably throw in the towel and call it a day. 

Sign #2 was my feeling of contentment at the thought of not running the marathon.

Sign #3 was my wonky, achy knee and tight calves.

I'm proud of myself for recognizing the signs and making the right decision. Runners, particularly long distance runners, refuse to give up. We grit our teeth, put our heads down, and power through. But not this runner, not this time. 

Besides, I need time to rest up for the 50k that I'm crazily thinking about signing up for.

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