I had no choice really. I was forced despite my better judgment. I wanted to run - should have run - but I didn't.

I missed the group run for the first time yesterday - though I swear I had good reason. I was not out drinking or stealing coasters from local restaurants. I wasn't napping or getting up close and personal with a fried bologna sandwich.

No, all those things I love were left undone this week (okay, maybe I had a couple drinks). It's life - it gets busy. But still I feel guilty.

Add to that the fact that my couch (you remember Cocoa Microfiber, Jr. don't you?) now suddenly feels neglected and is no longer speaking to me.

Feeling overwrought this morning on my way to work, I decided to assuage my inner pain with the most splendid of all caffeinated drinks: the Dunkin' Donuts Turbo Ice.

Criticize the chain coffee and donut shops if you must, but I swear to you there is no heaven without a Turbo in it.

So I step to the counter.

Guy working: "What can I get you?"

Me: "A large Turbo Ice, please, with cream and sugar and a shot of caramel [just for fun]."

Guy working makes a quick - but obvious - face of disgust.

I know that face. It's the face I get when I, for example, tell people I can't eat baklava because it reminds me of cadaver skin (not that I really know what cadaver skin is like).

When I call the guy out on the face he says people are always so serious and he's just making "nice faces."

Sure. Whatever.

Tell me my pants make me look fat - tell me I don't know how to dress myself - tell me I'll never be able to run a 10K. But please, don't insult my Turbo.

There are plenty of reasons to avoid running in the morning. Here's one reason not to:

Feeling utterly guilty for my "no sun, no run" mentality last week, I felt compelled to get up early and run this morning. How could I not? I mean, LOOK OUTSIDE.

I've had trouble running in the mornings - I run out of energy after 10 minutes. For a while I couldn't understand it - my Thursday evening runs were going well.

Other than time of time day, what's the big difference? Food.

I'm just not hungry in the morning. A cup of coffee suits me just fine (until 10:00 a.m., of course, when the all-day grazing officially begins). I discovered during the Sea Dogs 5K that coffee isn't a good running fuel.

By the time 6:00 p.m. rolls around on Thursday, I've eaten the edible equivalent of a Volkswagen. And even though what I choose to consume might not be the most ideal, it still makes quite a difference.

So this morning I ate half a bagel and drank some water before I went out and wow what difference.

Lesson learned: My anorexic college roommate was wrong. Food IS my friend.

Running inside? Could it be true? Yes!

Last week's rain hampered my morning run (and by "hampered" I mean entirely prevented).

Call it a fragile constitution, call it a cop-out, either way I'm just not ready to run in the rain. Ask me again in the summer when rain is considered refreshing rather than pneumonia-inducing.

Anyway, a comment from Holly that morning caught my attention:

Ran 5 miles on my treadmill before going to work.

What is this "treadmill" and where would I find one?

Who knew that a recent invention, referred to by users as a "gym," enables people to exercise inside! It's raining? Who cares! Blizzard conditions? Won't stop me!

And these running machines - treadmills - get you running without ever going anywhere. Boring? Some may say so. But speaking as someone who's found themselves 2 miles from home and completely exhausted, I like the idea of being able to just step off the machine when the energy runs out.

The problem with that: it's way too easy to just step off the machine.

Then again, cable television is an excellent motivator. Get your run in while you glean useless information from the Discovery Channel (such as the evolution of the toilet and myths about Thomas Crapper, which I watched in its entirety).

Three cheers for indoor running when the whether stinks!

And a solemn goodbye to one more excuse going down the tubes.

I'm a 100% backer of the group training movement. Maybe it's a dependency issue on my part - after the Beach to Beacon, maybe I'll work on that.

But for now I'll continue to marvel at the positive effects of peer pressure.

What? Thought peer pressure only revolved around booze, drugs and sex? Those things are nice too, but a little arm twisting might be just what you need to put down the tequila and go for a run (once you've sobered up, of course. Running drunk isn't as fun as it sounds).

And there's that camaraderie thing, too. It's nice to know that when I show up to a Thursday run and mumble something like "I don't like the sound of 'tempo run,'" I can count on someone nodding in agreement. "'Tempo run' sounds fast. I don't do fast."

The Thursday group is a good one - and Thursdays have become the upturn day on a quickly plummeting week. I rock on weekends - doing a long run and trying to keep the drinking to only the necessary minimum. On Monday I figure I just ran over the weekend, so I ought to take a rest.

On Tuesday it's either raining, or it's not. Either way, I don't run. Wednesday I work ridiculously early - can't run before work and too exhausted to run after.

By Thursday afternoon the good spirit from the weekend has been entirely quashed and I'm tinkering with the idea of pursuing a competitive eating career.

But it's Thursday - it's the group run day - and every week I go despite the imperfection of the previous three days.

Running with someone else makes all the difference. Instead of focusing on how tired you are or how slow you're going or how far the finish line is, you can get some decent face to face social time. I'm a talker by nature anyway, and while I can (and do) talk to myself regularly, I feel like I've heard all my stories before.

Talking (despite the panting) to someone else and hearing new stories and laughing at the people running the Back Cove in dress shoes makes the time fly by.

In fact, you might just get 5 miles under your belt without even realizing it, which is exactly what happened last night.

For a change of pace - and to work on speed - we ran from the Maine Running Company store to the Back Cove soccer fields. There we stepped up the pace and ran the field perimeter several times (running the straights, walking the curves). Around and around we went - and Anna and I chatted the whole way.

My perception of distance is non-existent, so when we were told that we'd run 5 miles (adding up the run to the field, around the field and back) I was pretty surprised. And impressed. And suddenly very tired.

See - I knew my incessant talking would come in handy one day.

I wanted to run this morning, but couldn't due to the severe drizzle storm.

What? Stop looking at me like that.

And by "winner" I mean 1150th place.

If I wanted to be pessimistic, I'd say that 1,149 people are faster than me. But hey, I choose to focus on the bright side: I beat 289 people. (All race results here.)

I participated in the Sea Dogs Mother's Day 5K yesterday (since the training group was asked to run a 5K to test our progress). I ran again with Anna (also in the training group) and we tried to stick to the run 10/walk 2/run 9/walk 2/run 8/walk 2/etc. schedule that was so successful last Thursday.

Immediately I realized two things: 1) while coffee has water in it, it isn't a good pre-race hydrator, and 2) water is wonderful and I miss it when it's not around.

I was surprised to find no water available on the course (bad assumption on my part - I thought that's how it worked even in shorter races). After mile one (and the confirmation that water was, indeed, absent) I couldn't think of anything else.

I didn't run as surely as I might've had I not been focused on the ever-increasing drought in my mouth, but Anna ran strong and I was determined to keep up.

Finally - the finish line - and WATER! But wait - no water yet! We were corralled into a fenced in area that was intended to guide us toward water and food. We waited and waited and took a couple steps and waited some more.

People were not pleased - for while we stood panting and sweating and stinking to high heaven, runners who had already passed through the line sat in the stands above us guzzling water and casually chewing bananas. It was torture - and had I anything to throw, I likely would've tried to knock one of them out.

CAUTION: Heartfelt interjection ahead

But alas, it was Mother's Day. And since my mom is back in Illinois, I felt like the day's efforts were done partially in her honor. She says she's my No. 1 fan, but I'm a big fan of hers, too. [insert tears here.]

I'd be remiss not to also thank the little people who helped me accomplish this goal:

Without you guys I'd be sore, chafed and bleeding. Thanks for being greasy - or sticky - as needed.

Yesterday afternoon I was depressed. Much to the thanks of my stellar training diet, I was drained of energy, feeling crappy and in an all-around bad mood.

I knew, too, that some runners in the group had done the weekly Back Cove 5K on Wednesday and wouldn't be attending Thursday night's run. It was the perfect out. If I didn't show, people could just assume I was resting after an evening of record-breaking speed runs (or, at the least, that I jog-walked Back Cove).

But at the last minute I pulled out the dreaded running shorts that are still a little tighter than I'd like and went to the group run.

I'm happy to report that not only did I run/walk 4 miles - it was actually my best run yet! Thanks to the inspiration of Anna (who is also training and who runs in the same pace group) we opted to head out strong and taper off the running times - we ran 10 minutes - walked two - ran nine - walked two - ran eight...you get the idea.

It was a brilliant idea - and we managed to improve our pace this week to a 11.5-minute mile (from 13 last week). Woooiiieee!!

Unfortunately, the lure of my running shorts overshadowed a painful reminder of running in shorts in years past: THE CHAFING!

Halfway around Back Cove the skin on my inner thigh was rubbed nearly raw - and I was tempted to run "peed pants" style. But remember the hardcoreness!

I went four miles, dangit, and wasn't going to let the burning of raw flesh stop me!

Oh how quickly the enthusiasm wanes. I was on-target this weekend - doing a 3-mile training run on Saturday (yes, by choice) and a bike ride on Sunday (despite a well-enjoyed Cinco de Mayo the night before). I figured, after three weeks of really keeping putting in the effort, I was in the clear.

People always claim that getting started is half the battle. I disagree.

I've been riding my laurels since Sunday.

This rut is totally unexplainable, too. I've been doing everything right.

Through this training process I've learned that hydration is key during physical exertion - so I'm always drinking.

I've even been trying new energy drinks to really push me to the limit.

I pay close attention to my food intake, focusing on a protein-rich, carb-light diet.

I even make it a point to get outside throughout the day to take in the sun and the air - how invigorating!

Seriously, what more can I possibly do?

Emotions are mixed this morning - while half of me is impressed I've been sticking with the schedule and not ditching the Thursday runs, I don't seem to be moving forward. For two weeks I've been running 3 miles at the run 7 minutes/walk two minutes pace (finishing in approx. 40 minutes - a 13-minute mile average).

For those of you not familiar with running and pacing, a 13-minute mile is really, really fast. For those of you who know that's a lie, stop laughing! I'm working on it!

At first I was thrilled to even run for seven minutes - that's no easy feet when you've been mostly sedentary all winter long. And I got swept up by thoughts of myself waking at dawn for a five-mile sprint through the streets of Portland - leaping over parked cars for fun.

So I'll admit some disappointment this week - I haven't improved by a second. The run is still rough - I'm still panting and red faced and tired before I finish. It's a sure sign I'm not ready to move forward.

But stop trying? Naw, I plan on kicking the Back Cove's arse...eventually.

Until this morning I was feeling confident in my training diligence. I've been following the schedule (mostly), steering clear of deep fried foods (on the whole)
and foregoing the afternoon nap (nearly 80% of the time).

But the group e-mail that went out yesterday afternoon from the folks at the Run Walk Company sent me into a near panic:

"I would like everyone to see where they are by participating in either the Weekly Back Cove 5K on Weds., May 9 @ 6pm or The Seadogs Mother’s Day 5K on Sunday, May 13th."

Ahhhhhhhh!

Running a timed race with other people is like the running world's version of truth serum - and I'm thinking that I'd rather not know the truth.

Oh dear, I'm feeling a little flushed...I think I'm coming down with something...Ebola maybe...

Inspiration is a wonderful thing - and nothing inspires like 50-degree air temps and the presence of the sun. Even I couldn't talk myself out of jogging the bike trail to Bug Light this weekend. I mean - it felt like spring. Spring!

With two slices of cinnamon toast in my belly (with real sugar for extra energy) I attempted the (approximately) 3-mile (round trip) trail on my own. Sure, 7 minutes running/2 minutes walking is easy to maintain when running in a group. The fear of public ridicule is an excellent motivator.

But it's just me - and I let myself cheat all the time ("Shannon, what's that over there?" "Where?" And down goes a tater tot). I'm not going to lie - it was a struggle, and I threw a couple extra one-minute walks in the mix when all the saliva disappeared from my mouth. But I kept myself honest the whole way through - I'm proud of myself, and so am I.

Of course, by the end I was roasting and it became clear that pants were just too much to wear. Not a big deal, seeing as I have running shorts from last year that were just the right length to a) not make me self-conscious when stretching, and b) not ride up (forcing the wearing to continually yank the inside seam down while running, which I must say is not conducive to proper form).

But alas, those splendid shorts have become too small for me (or I too big for them)! I'm not ready for shorts yet - I need a few more weeks of running before I can fit back into my running shorts.

Ah! The irony!

Please warm weather - come slowly!