This is the dumbest train of thought ever. I know. I know the difference between 20 and 22 miles is not an issue. I know I could handle 2 more miles. I know. But I'm a control freak and we're not! sticking! to! the! plan!
Exhibit B (ps. I just typed "Exhibit Be" which sounds like an existential art display): swimming last night. I wanted to do 50 minutes/~2500 yards. I had already completed the first 500 in 9 minutes and was on track for 9 minutes for the second 500 when they had to close the lane for lessons. You can imagine the huffing and puffing that occurred. Luckily I am pretty good at internalizing my irrational irritation and smiled at the swim lesson instructor and moved to another lane. But I had lost a minute! And now my timing would be off! And my best laid plans were falling to pieces and I might as well give up and go home.
I wish I was exaggerating, but I really thought about just calling it a day 12 minutes into my swim.
Instead I sucked it up, made up the lost minute, and finished strong (2500 yards included 5 x 50 sprints on the ~0:47. Death.). I tried to file this away in my catalog of "things that felt like a catastrophe but really really were not."
I'm like this with everything. Kinks in my plan make me anxious. I've tried hard to minimize this anxiety but instead I tend to get wrapped up in the feelings and end up with a racing heart and clenched jaw. I'm the life of the party.
Sometimes it rains on a long run day. (I secretly love this because then I have an excuse to run on the treadmill. I'm lame).
Sometimes the pool is crowded.
Sometimes work runs late or the air conditioner breaks (true story, if I disappear it's because I died in the 110 degree heat index) or an errand needs to be run.
It will be ok. Seriously.