run. run. run.

Bad dress rehearsal, good performance.

This normally, of course, applies to the theater {or the theatre, depending on how pretentious and British I'm feeling}.  But I'm taking that mentality and running with it.

Literally.

As in tomorrow, I'm running a half-marathon, and I just had this horrific 3-mile run.

3 miles.

And it felt like I was running through tar or molasses or cotton.

Or like I was on a road made of tar and I'd just been slathered in molasses and then rolled in cotton. And then fed a 12-course meal {where every course used either a pound of butter or a pound of heavy cream} before being told to take to the open road of stickiness.

Not exactly a shining moment of athleticism.

It certainly wasn't one of those runs that, by the end, I feel like I'm in step with the world and anything is possible. At the end of runs like that, I have enough energy to make a chocolate souffle while wearing an apron I just whipped up. At the very least, at the end of a run like that, I can take on my work day.

Today was not one of those days, and so I'm going with the bad dress rehearsal, good performance mentality.

Running is a mental sport, after all.  In my head while I'm running, there's a lot of, 'Okay, Mia, you can run one more mile.  Anyone can run a mile.  Okay, good.  Now, breathe in slowly.  Fill the diaphragm.  Focus, focus.'

Trust me, it's a lot more fun in my brain than that snippet would imply. I have to admit, while I'm running, there's also a lot of, 'What do I need to get at the grocery store? Why can't I get this song out of my head? Oooh, look at the how the shadows are moving on the path! I love cool morning runs. I'm going to have lots of coffee when I'm done with this. Dang. I'm out of cream. I should put that on the grocery list. Now, what else do I need to get there?'

This afternoon as I stretched on the living room floor—while watching the Iowa-Iowa State game, the only college football game I bet I'll watch this year—I was encouraged by this dress rehearsal thought.

I'm convinced that tomorrow, just before I start running at 8:30, my body will pull itself together and refuse to feel terrible while running. It will be motivated by how horrible today felt, and it will do better.

I think the massage I promised myself as a race reward will also help with the motivation. I am not above bribing my own body to behave.