I was supposed to run 10 kilometers this Sunday.

Last weekend, I asked ChatGPT to help me build a plan.
I followed most of it.
Not perfectly, but enough to feel proud.

Until my body started whispering.

At first, it was small.
A heavy throat.
A tired walk that felt heavier than it should.

I ignored it.

Because I had a goal.

Yesterday evening, after two cups of Vietnamese sweet soup, my throat gave up completely.
Not in a dramatic way.
Just… a quiet resignation.

I realized I hadn’t felt well all week.
I just didn’t want to admit it.

There’s something seductive about plans.
They make us feel in control.
They give structure to effort.

But bodies don’t follow calendars.

So today, I decided to cancel tomorrow’s run.


Not because I failed.
But because I listened.

Next week, I’m not training for distance.
I’m training for recovery.

Yoga.
Stretching.
Letting my body catch up with my intentions.

I’m learning that training isn’t always about adding more.
Sometimes, it’s about knowing when to stop.

And maybe that’s part of it too.

Not every goal needs to be completed.
Some are just there to show us where our edge is.

Today, my edge was rest.

So I stayed there.
And breathed.