I never realized how competitive I was until recently. I never seem to be happy with where I am. I always want more. Not necessarily more than others, but more of myself. I clean the house, I want it cleaner (I almost maimed Allie for using the bathroom after I had it company clean).
I began running and it wasn’t enough to do a mile. Oh no, I had to do a 5k. That goal was accomplished but not well, so I signed up for more and more. I signed up David, too but didn’t tell him.
Why? Because I wanted to win. It wasn’t enough that I didn’t come in last (my first goal) but I want to beat him. The man who doesn’t train but is in naturally great shape. My next goal was to run 5 miles by October.
Last weekend I finally did it. Five FREAKING holy crap miles and it didn’t hurt. When I finished did I feel a sense of accomplishment? Nope, I set myself up to do 7 miles by the end of November. Next thing you know I will talk myself into setting a goal for a half-marathon.
What the heck is wrong with me? I mean seriously who needs to run 7 miles unless they are being chased by a serial killer.
Setting goals is supposed to get you to accomplish something, not become an obsession. I would write more but I have to get running….