I hate training. Or do I?

Alarm sounds at 4:30 am. I hit the button and lay there in the dark. I don’t want to get up. Thoughts about taking a day off are looming in my head. I stay put and watch the minutes pass by.
4:45 am, still in bed. I am trying to figure out a substitute for what’s planned as today’s run. 10 miles with 6x1000m repeats. May be I can do intervals while watching Stephen practicing soccer tonight. May be I can move it to tomorrow morning. I want to sleep, or at least lay in bed.
5:00 am. I pull myself up and throw into a bathroom. The water is cold, I hate this water system! It takes forever to warm up! I stumble downstairs naked, turn on coffee machine and look for running clothes in a dryer. I dread getting out, so I turn on the computer while sipping on a cup of hot coffee. I go over Craig’s blog and discover my last night’s comment didn’t go through. I am almost happy – I get to sit here and re-write it again.
Minutes are ticking. It’s past 5:30 am, I am never that late for a morning run. If I want to make it 10 miles I better get my ass out the door.
I slowly separate from the chair and step outside. Why did I plan 10 miles again? When was the time 10 miles was my long weekend run? I want to go back to this time. I want to go back to the time when running was just for pleasure and no other reasons.
Actually, it was never that kind of time. My first run was a 5k. It was training ever since, whether or not a sophisticated one – doesn’t matter, but always for something ahead of me.
It is cold out, and I am wearing shorts and a tank top. There is frost on the ground and I exhale a cloud. I am considering going back for a long sleeve, but understand that once I am in the room, I am crawling back into bed. I continue on.
Road turn, slow jog. My butt still hurts from that long run on Monday, almost as much as when the injury just happened. I lean to the other side and try to not move my left leg. Why am I doing it? Who knows.
It’s getting warmer in about 10 minutes, so at least that much is good. I am still in search for reasons to stop. My compartment syndrome is aggravated by constantly tensing up on the run now, as well as too much roads lately. I also developed a tendonitis on one leg and a plantar fasciatis on another – funky short gate do it to you.
I go to a turn-around of my warm up and jog to the track. 3 miles passed, but I am still not sure if I want any speed work. I visit a porta-potty just to waste time. I even do some stretches at the track. I am looking back in search of predicted times. 1000m had been my physical fitness estimate since last year under Scott’s training. Last year I did them in 4:15. This year before WS it went in 4:20. A week before injury I had 4:30. I promise not to get upset whatever I manage today. I quietly pray to break 5 min.
Eventually there is no lingering anymore, I ran out of options. I drop my bottle and toe the “start line”. I press the timer button on the watch and try picking up the pace.
I think in half-laps. I focus on a straight line and count. 800m left. My step is short and choppy, vividly different on left side versus right side. 600m. How weird – my breath never goes out, I am so slow. 400m. Almost done. Last turn. First one out.
I hit the stop button and walk to sense how it feels. Tight, but not crazy. I look at the watch. 4:45. I think for a few seconds if I am mad or happy, then smirk. Suddenly a memory of my telling Rob while pacing him about how I learned to spit on the run recently comes in and a smile crosses my face. It’s not very lady-like, I know. Who says what is or isn’t lady-like? I look at my hands and find a big non-healed wound from roping down that crazy section on the way to Hyak. Not very lady-like. I remember how on Monday after the long run my hamstring seized up so much, I couldn’t take my shoes off, so I laid on the tile floor of a shower room at work for 10 minutes to begin moving. Yep, I am not very lady-like.
I turn a corner on a track and spit. 5 intervals left. I can pull it off. I toe the start line and press the timer button.

p.s. I sent my application in today for RDL100. I am injured, untrained and unfit. I am not motivated to fight but curious if I have enough stubbornness to finish. And if I DNF I promise to have a smile on my face.