The weather is grey and chilly; I’m already early, as I’m fighting off a head and chest cold; and, of course, I just don’t want to run. Writing my feelings out this way, however, helpfully obliges me to go ahead and get on with it.
So I went along, set a modest pace, and ran my mile — a little pain in my knees, typically ragged breathing, and my time was 11:26. I’m a little surprised that it was more than a full minute slower than my current usual, but there we are. I ran it just to have kept running, not to improve anything.