I really, honestly did mean to run at the gym today.
It's just this: I hate the gym, and the stinky gym smell, and all the people, and the TVs. I hate going to the gym and seeing someone I know there, because it's always the chatty person, and I hate talking at the gym. I hate running on the treadmill, too. Also it was raining, and I love running in the rain and it's January, so it's cold and rainy, and that means it was perfect for a run tonight.
I took a gentle two miles at an agonizingly slow pace. I paid attention to my knee (minor twinges below my kneecap, patellar tendonitis, not a big thing) and no, it doesn't hurt. I stretched. A lot. I was careful. It was lovely.
I have a problem with knowing what is best for my body and then choosing to do whatever I please instead. I prefer pushing myself to recuperating any day. I realize that I can't do this every time, or even most of the time. Next time, I'll do better. I'll listen to cues. I'll take it easier. I'll use the damned treadmill. Hell, I'll even cross- train.