The devil on my shoulder starts up - "You're tired. Your legs hurt. Your shoulder aches. Your ankles crack loudly every morning when you roll out of bed. You don't want to get up, let alone get up and run."
The Angel answers - "Never give in."
Devil: "It's cold, it's dark, you're sleepy. (I'm sleepy!) The bed's warm. Just a few more minutes. You do not want to get up, let alone get up and run."
Angel: "Never give in."
Devil: "The suns not even up yet. What the hell are you doing getting out of bed?! Your gear is cold. The floor is cold! You don't want to get up, let alone get up and run!"
Angel: "Never, never, never, never--in nothing, great or small, large or petty--never give in...."
I shiver as my feet hit the floor, shudder as I pull on my clothes.
The devil works harder.
I see it now, I'll be at the farthest point of my run, and it will start raining. Not a calm drizzle to cool you off - a deluge. The kind that will instaly soak you to the bone. Then the wind comes up - cold and hard. The rain is horizontal. The elements are against me, combining to instantly soak my wind/rain proof running jacket. It's going to be a long hard slog back home into the storm, fighting just to keep on my feet. I do not want to get up, let alone get up and run!
A whisper from the Angel.
"You cannot tell from appearances how things will go. Sometimes imagination makes things out far worse than they are; yet without imagination not much can be done. Those people who are imaginative see many more dangers than perhaps exist; certainly many more than will happen; but then they must also pray to be given that extra courage to carry this far-reaching imagination."
"Shut the BLEEP up!" I'm not going to run! I need the rest! I'll meet the gang like I do every day at "Semi Dark Forty Five", have coffee and whine about my problems for an hour. But I am not running when I get home.
I better check the weather before I go - a clear cool day, not a cloud in the sky. Brisk. Summer is looking to slip away with a whimper. Great day to pound the pavement.
I see an inspirational item in my inbox:
On what I can imagine to be a chilly October day in 1941, Winston Churchill addressed the student body of Harrow School. During his speech, he uttered the excerpts my Angel echoes above. My inbox contains almost the same message today. The weather is the exact opposite of what I imagine.
Is someone trying to tell me something?
Who will win today - the Devil or the Angel? I think I'll go for a run and think about it.
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