Trick yourself into it
This is the best way I've found to run farther than I've ever run before: I trick myself into doing it. Sounds strange, huh? It works, though.
Here's an example: Lately I've been running four laps around the track. Before spring break I was running six, and occasionally seven. I was building up to run eight. However, I got lazy after a week off and couldn't get myself back into it again, or at least into running my pre-break distances. I hadn't run six laps around the track since before leaving for Chicago. But last night I tricked myself into doing it.
I didn't expect to run six; I was only planning to run four. I'd felt bad all day and needed to push myself. When I put on my shoes I joked about running six, but shook my head. It was in the back of my mind, but I knew I couldn't commit myself; my body would bitch and moan at the end of the third lap, wanting to run one more, not three. I hate it when my mind and body aren't in synch.
Toward the end of my fourth lap, when the finish line was almost under my shoes, I was feeling good; I was full of energy. I could have stopped, but I didn't. I just kept running, thinking, "I'll run a fifth lap, with an option for a sixth." Kind of like baseball contracts (a thirty million dollar contract for five years, with an option for a sixth). Not once did I commit myself to a sixth lap until I ran across my starting line again.
That's how you make yourself do something. You trick yourself into doing it.
Here's an example: Lately I've been running four laps around the track. Before spring break I was running six, and occasionally seven. I was building up to run eight. However, I got lazy after a week off and couldn't get myself back into it again, or at least into running my pre-break distances. I hadn't run six laps around the track since before leaving for Chicago. But last night I tricked myself into doing it.
I didn't expect to run six; I was only planning to run four. I'd felt bad all day and needed to push myself. When I put on my shoes I joked about running six, but shook my head. It was in the back of my mind, but I knew I couldn't commit myself; my body would bitch and moan at the end of the third lap, wanting to run one more, not three. I hate it when my mind and body aren't in synch.
Toward the end of my fourth lap, when the finish line was almost under my shoes, I was feeling good; I was full of energy. I could have stopped, but I didn't. I just kept running, thinking, "I'll run a fifth lap, with an option for a sixth." Kind of like baseball contracts (a thirty million dollar contract for five years, with an option for a sixth). Not once did I commit myself to a sixth lap until I ran across my starting line again.
That's how you make yourself do something. You trick yourself into doing it.
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