Some days, the miles are easy. Some days, they’re hard.
Some days, you drag yourself out of bed to pound the pavement because you know if you don’t do this one thing, get this one win early, you may not see another win all day.
Some days, you burst onto the street, strong like bull, ready to wrestle the day to the ground and steal its lunch money.
Some days, you run and you slave and you gasp and groan and feel like you’ll never cross the finish line.
Some days, the fresh, clean air hits your lungs and you feel like you could run forever.
Some days, the miles are best forgotten about.
Some days, the miles stay with you.
But any day when the finish line looks like this:
Those miles seem just a little bit better.
Happy running from Tybee Island.