At the lake on Saturday, I bumped into Maggie and the ATP crew before the groups started. They cornered me about how I should run with ATP even if I didn't go the entire 10 miles (I didn't). I told them it was too much. I explained that I didn't want to be out done every week by a group of super-humans. It was enough that I was running a marathon, wasn't it? And then the ATP lies began...
"You won't be the slowest"
"Think how much stronger you'll be."
"This is your year!"
I absolutely told them in no uncertain terms that I couldn't ... but then, of course ... I did. Oh sure, I had the same amount of enthusiasm for the skipping warm up and the hip circles as I always do, but I still did them. Totally caved. Where was that trademark stubbornness when I needed it?
My reward this weekend was opening the pool on Bryn Mawr and swimming with the sweetest puppy that ever lived. I wish I had half of the enthusiasm for running that she had for belly-flopping in the water in pursuit of a tennis ball.
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