Week 6 is all about stubborn momentum. The pace is slow, the strides are short, but the run time is growing—and so is the grit. Twenty minutes non-stop proved I could do hard things. Now I’m chasing 25, with 30 in sight. The 5K can wait. That annoying stubborn streak? It gets me through the tough stuff.
Let’s be clear: this is no gazelle sprint. It’s an elephant run—slow, deliberate, and laced with comeback grit. The pace? Glacial. So glacial, in fact, that a tall man striding beside me is matching my tempo without breaking a sweat. But here’s the twist: I’m still running. And the run time is stretching like my patience in a committee meeting.
Last week? 20 minutes non-stop. This week? Gunning for 25. That’s not just progress—it’s a full-blown refusal to quit. Every minute added is a middle finger to doubt. Every slow shuffle forward is a declaration: I’m still here, still moving, still refusing to flatten my arc.
And if you know me, you know this: I’m built on stubborn refusal. I don’t give up. I recalibrate. I shuffle forward with grit in my teeth and sass in my stride—even when the stride is more of a determined wobble.
Let’s talk motion. Yes, I can walk fast. But running? That’s a whole different biomechanical commitment. Lifting my feet, swinging my arms, convincing my body to cooperate—it’s not just movement, it’s a full-body negotiation. And let’s be honest: my legs are not exactly gazelle-length. That tall man’s stride is practically a teleport. Mine? A compact, determined shuffle threaded with refusal and a touch of “are we really doing this again?”
This isn’t about speed. It’s about showing up when the pace mocks you. About letting small wins stack like audit tiles—each one threaded with resilience, refusal, and stubborn joy.
Mind over matter? More like mind side-eyeing matter and muttering, “Fine. But I’m not happy about it.” The legs protest. The lungs file complaints. But I keep moving. Because I’m not here for comfort. I’m here for the comeback.
And while a 5K might still be a few weeks off, that 30-minute milestone? Oh, it’s coming. And when it lands, it’ll be celebrated like a civic reform win—confetti, stickers, dashboard tile, the works. Because this isn’t just a run. It’s a refusal-coded audit of endurance, and I’m threading every minute with determination.
Be the star of your own story.
