The Negotiation

Every run involves an argument.

Every run, from 5K to marathon, involves an argument. Your body gathers in the negotiation room, each part with its own agenda.

It starts with your legs. They’re always the first into the room. The first to complain.

They’re used to the status quo. Stiff. Unwilling to change.

Just try it.

You beg them.

After one or two miles, you’ll calm down. You’ll start to enjoy it.

You don’t know if that’s true, but it’s what you have to believe. They start to believe it, too. Maybe you’re right. They’ll hear you out.

Just as you calm down your legs, your lungs burst into the room. They thought your legs would win the argument. Since that didn’t happen, they have to show up and say their piece.

This is too hard. You don’t need this. We’re out of space.

They beg you. You beg back.

Just keep going.

Your breath evens out. Maybe you can do this? Suddenly, you’ve got the whole room on board. Your legs flow smoothly with the ground. Your lungs expand and contract smoothly, inhaling deeply and exhaling steadily.

Then, you think of the finish line. Then, everyone turns on you.

Each part is suddenly reminded of how much longer they have to work and how much better they’ll feel when the run ends. They’d prefer to skip to the end.

Your legs, your lungs, your back, your arms. Your entire body yells at you.

Stop. Stop. Stop.

This is too much. This is too hard. You aren’t an athlete. You aren’t in shape.

That isn’t working, so they get smarter with their pleas.

Just stop here and call it an easy day. You did good enough. You don’t need to push yourself further.

Rest is essential. You don’t want to get hurt.

You fight back.

You’ve come too far to quit now.

We can make it.

The negotiation continues with every step, every breath, every heartbeat. But you’re getting closer.

We can make it.

And you do.