Sunday's long run was no bueno. I was dehydrated (maybe finishing that bottle of wine Saturday night was a bad idea), I foolishly started my run at noon, and the last mile was a sweaty, profanity-laced slog.
But, as Chris so helpfully pointed out, it was only 4 miles not 10 or 16 or 20, the kids weren't screaming, I wasn't attacked by hornets, my legs weren't numb with pain, it wasn't snowing, it wasn't 100 degrees and 100% humidity, no screaming shins or angry ITBs, I didn't throw up or poop my pants, no bloody blisters, no chaffed ass crack, and not even close to an epically awful bonk.
So cheer up - it can always get worse!
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