No regrets. Not a one.

I've read it several times before, but I don't know who said it: "The only run I regret is the one I don't take."

That is so, so, so true.

Because I was going to run a 12-miler on Saturday, I only ran a quickie 4-miler on Friday night.

And then I woke up to rain and thunder, lightning and wind. My mood plummeted. Already I was regretting my decision to only run 4 miles on Friday.

And then the rain, thunder and lightning stopped and I hurried to take advantage of the break in horribleness.

That 12-mile run was the most miserable run I've ever experienced. People, I ran at the beginning of February when it was less than 30 degrees outside and icy. I've run in August when the air was so humid that I felt like I was swimming. I've run with a backache, with a headache. You name it.

But yesterday's 12-miler tops them all on the scale of awfulness.

I went to the Hike and Bike Trail in Beaumont. For those who haven't been there before (and why haven't you??), it's a four-sided circular-type two-mile track. So I had to run it six times. Two of the sides were good. The other two, where I was running into the 20,000 MPH wind?

Pure. Hell.

So hellish that after the ninth mile, I thought, "Beth, you're being incredibly stubborn. Finish out this tenth mile and call it a day. Really. This is unbearable."

And then I gathered up my strength, both physical and mental, and battled through the eleventh and twelfth mile.

I am so glad I did.

Ten miles is good. Ten miles is more than I was running at this time last year. Heck, ten miles is more than I ran in all of March last year, I'm sure.

But twelve was my goal, and anything less would be, well, less. And I'm not into less. I'm into pushing myself, going farther and faster, doing more and doing better.

I did it. I managed miles a little more than 12 minutes, and I am so looking forward to The Gusher next weekend!