My whininess aside, if I'd been in a better mindset, it would've been an awesome run. The scenery was beautiful and aside from the wind, it was good running weather. There were post-race donuts (which I didn't have time for, sadly). I saw relatives and people I went to college with and co-workers.
At the halfway mark, I was thinking, "I am dumb. Why didn't I sign up for the 5k? What is WRONG with me?" And then we ran past a home for adults with mental disabilities and three people were out in the driveway, cheering and clapping as we ran by. One man was in a full body wheelchair and I just thought, "Really? I'm complaining about my CHOICE to run, mentally beating myself up, while he would probably give anything to feel his feet hit the pavement." I wish I could say that I stopped hating the run at that point, but I didn't. I hated it until my feet crossed the finish line and then I hated it for a little while afterward, until I begrudgingly put on my race shirt and went to gorge myself on stuffing and rolls.
What I got out of it, though, is that a bad run is still a good run. It's a good run because I am able to run. Period.
And as I counted my blessings yesterday, I added that to the list. Along with friends, family, pie, and yoga pants, I'm thankful for the perspective to look outside myself, to see a little bit of good in bad--to realize just how lucky I am.