Ben is one of my favorite weight-loss/fitness bloggers.
He put up a short post yesterday that summed up motivation (or lack thereof) perfectly in very few words.
At the track at 6 am today for 4 miles and speed work. It was beautiful this morning, cool and dry. When I drove up to the track, the fog/mist was still lifting off the infield grassy center of the track and the Canadian geese and crows were posturing and prancing around doing whatever the hell they do.
After a half-mile warm-up it was 2 laps as fast as I could run, followed by a lap of easy running/recovery, x3, then about 1.5 miles of easy running.
For the first, say, half mile of any run I often feel like a marionette, limbs flying, uncontrolled, uncoordinated. But I eventually settle into a rhythm, refining my stride and form like pulling a lens into focus. I aim for an efficient stride so I can conserve energy to outlast what essentially is a moving endurance test.
So warm-up was OK and speed work wasn't too bad. But when I finished with speed work I still had over a mile to go. Tired from the speed work, I was hoping I had less left and my Garmin would miraculously read "4 mi", but it didn't. Next time I'll run more before my speed work, so when that's done I have, say, a half-mile left.