15 June 2004
I must’ve followed my coffee cup around the house ten times a couple weeks ago before I finally admitted defeat. There was no way I was going out in the pouring, 40-degree rain to get in my long run for the week. Even though I’m registered to run in Grandma’s Marathon here in Duluth, MN coming up on the 19th, I couldn’t summon up the studliness to venture outside. Dejected, I tromped down into the basement and tried to salvage something by jumping on the treadmill for a half hour or so.
 more volume. And I have to balance that against things that I’d like to do with my whole family. The perennial battle. </p><p>I’m not going to make the U.S. team anytime soon. So, when I cut into family time, I feel like I’m stealing. This means I target weird times to put in my hours. Like wicked early. Ow. That hurts. Or it means wicked late on a treadmill in the basement. Ow. That hurts worse. I’ve actually started to watch what I eat. Super Ouch. But I keep swimming upstream to Wave One. Why?<br />
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