Another zero-degree morning, another run, thirty-one days in a row.
The psychology of the streak-running phenomenon, now that I’ve been made aware of streaks as a popular phenomenon, is brilliant and insidious. I’m at 31 now; that means that if I were to take tomorrow off, it would be more than a month till I regained the ground I’ve built up. The higher the streak gets, the more intense the pressure not to break it, in a cycle of heightened stakes. I feel the temptation to break my own streak this week just to dispel that haunting duress.