It happens so many times that I should be embarrassed by it, like Charlie Brown falling for Lucy’s tricks over and over again: I head out for a hard run dreading it, half-convinced I won’t be able to do it. I can think of a half dozen reasons not to do it: maybe it’ll wear me down too much! Maybe I’ll get hurt! Maybe it’d be better to do it tomorrow, when I can really nail it, than to try to half-ass it today!

But I take a crack at it anyway, and–almost every single time–I not only hit the paces I meant to hit, but I come back feeling better and stronger for having done it when I had thought it was out of reach.

I went for some good runs in Tokyo this year, but this one was the one I looked forward to the least, the one I was proudest to finish–even though my stomach was upset, even though the wind was ugly, even though I was tired….