Yesterday’s workout could only be described as bittersweet topped with a dollup of depressing.

I’ve mentioned it being hot and humid, yes?  Yes.

How hot?  Stupidly hot.

How humid?  So humid there are rainbows without rain.

So humid my windows looked like the below picture when I woke up…

Only, instead of a small corner… the entire window looked like this.

I went out anyway and decided early on I’d only do a little over two miles.  Horrible outside.  Just. So. Uncomfortable.  I even walked a bit, noting the thick layer of sweat all over my body.  Oh yeah… alllllllll over my body.

So I’m cutting it short and this means I’m going up the steep side of the hill which leads to my home.  I’m nervous and I’m tired and I’m just wanting to be out of the stupid weather already.  I round the corner for the home stretch and….

Oh.

Another runner.

She’s stopped right now so I crank on by her and I pick up the pace a bit and home she turns down the road I’d just turned off of.

No. Such. Luck.

How do I know?

Once she starts running she flies by me.  ZOOOOOOM!!!!  I get to watch her continue to just fly by me and roar up the hill, all the while playing with her pony tail as though she’s not doing anything even remotely challenging.

And I KNOW this shouldn’t get to me.  I know it.  I know I have to work on speed and I’ll get there eventually.

I know all of this.

And yet, as I make it to the top of the hill in what I can only describe as my fastest running pace ever… I can’t even begin to feel proud of my victory.  (Partly because I’m dying.)  Instead I watch the runner girl speed down the hill and off into the distance (wearing PANTS no less – in THIS heat) and I feel… inferior.

Why do I let this get me down so much?  I know better, don’t I?  I’m more confident than this, aren’t I?

Am I the only one with running envy?

And now that I’m back to work, I’ll be running in the evening.  The transition might not be easy and I’ll probably suffer a bit but don’t you worry, I’m not quitting anytime soon.

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