Shit gets real when your alarm clock is set to a time that no longer starts with a 5 (and I thought my 6 days a week starting with a 5 was real). Shit gets real when your speedwork days have a total mileage of 8 or greater. Shit gets real when your body is so tired it’s begging for a rest day but you do doubles instead. Shit gets real when the idea of not getting out of bed, not hitting the pavement, and rolling over are some of the sweetest ideas you’ve had in a LOOOONNNGGGG time.

You know when it also gets real? When you clear the mechanism, when you remember why you started on this path, when you remember what a short bit of pain or exhaustion or devotion this really takes in the grand scheme of things. Shit gets real when you remind yourself how disappointed you’d be if you got a 4 freaking 02 on September 30th because you thought 20 minutes of extra sleep was worth the trade off. A good friend always says, you aren’t doing yourself any favors when cheat your workout. So I won’t. You know why? Because I don’t EVER want to do this again. Sub 4, you’re on. Shit just got real.