Many years ago, when I started yet another new year's diet (more veg, less cheese etc...) a 'good' friend of mine told me that I would fail; he said I would fail because I had 'all the willpower of a horny dog at a Miss Lovely Legs competition'. He was right then. And he's still on the nose.
Last night I went to running club. I happily left my bag in the club room, then perched on the leisure centre steps, waiting for the runners to gather. With five minutes to go, my friend arrived. She pointed out the rain. And suggested we retire to the warmth of the pub instead. I was out of there quicker than a rat up a drainpipe.
Today, rather than bathing in a saintly post-run glow, I have a pink wine hangover and a weird guilty feeling. As a rule, I don't feel guilty about not running. But I'm thinking that in the past 3 months, running - and running club, in particular - has become a habit. And that's why not running has given me a bit of a guilty tummy ache. Though that could be the wine.
I'm off for a run now to assuage the guilt. So if something good has emerged from my less than perfect behaviour, it's that I've realized running is now pretty engrained in my unconscious wellbeing. Making it less of an effort to go. And more of an effort to miss.
The other good thing: I had a very nice evening in the pub - and a really tasty steak.
(Very interesting article from British Psychological Society on how to form a habit.)