I'm giving it one more shot. I'm doing my third half-marathon this summer because my friend Paula is FORCING me to do it. I am on week two of training (I'm doing Hal Higdon's plan.) I have to admit I kinda love training, maybe more than the race itself. Some people run races for competition, for physical achievement, or for the cameraderie. I do it because I love the order and assignment of a training regimen.

In some ways I'm still the obedient fifth grader who wrote down assignments in her school planner and felt a thrill of accomplishment with each to-do crossed off. When I applied for college, the appeal of a school where you could design your own major was lost on me. How should I know what I'd want, what would be best for me? I prefer guidelines, authority, a reassuring voice from on high that says "If you get through A, B and C, you will achieve Goal Z."

That's what a training plan does for me. Not only do I feel confident that I will be able to cross the finish line, I love waking up in the morning knowing that somebody has planned my workout for me. No blowing it off, no quitting, just figuring out when in the day it will get done. When I'm between races I start to feel lost because I'm not totally sure what I'm aiming for. Just clarity of mind, health and strength? Okay...I guess.

Since I live in Chicago, the winter is typically a time when I'm most bereft of physical goals. I've wasted money on not one but two Rudolph Rambles that I decided not to show up for (it's not the running in the snow that I'm afraid of--it's the standing around pre-race waiting for it to start that's the bad part.) So when the Runner's World Run Streak was announced over the holidays, I was thrilled.

The rules were simple: run at least a mile every day between Thanksgiving and New Year's. There it is! Finally! A winter running assignment I could achieve. With "it's only a mile" as my mantra, I enjoyed the challenge of finding new ways to fit it into my day--if I had to go to the pharmacy, I'd run there. If I had to drop off gifts at my kid's school for a toy drive, I'd jog with a paper bag in my hand. And if I got sick? It's only a mile! Except...

A week after Thanksgiving, I treated myself to a post-lunch run on a part of the Chicago lakefront I hadn't visited in awhile, but didn't go as far as I anticipated, because it felt like I had a few heavy rocks in my belly. For the rest of the day, even though I didn't eat anything else, my stomach felt sloshy. I finally lay down and couldn't get warm. Finally, that evening, came the barfs.

Anyone who's had the stomach flu knows that the throwing up is only half the battle. The next day you're completely wiped out. I spent the entire day lying in bed watching "30 Rock," nearly too tired to travel the distance to the bathroom. I was dehydrated, but also dispirited: my streak was only a week old, and it was already ruined. All the big talk I had done about this endeavor, and for what?

I'm friends with Cindy Kuzma and Jen Miller, contributors to Runners World who have been very generous to me with advice both about running and writing. I'm serious when I say I crave authority in my life: I emailed them both to ask permission to take a day off from the streak.

"Yes. If you're dying to stay in it, fast walk a mile," advised Jen.

Cindy, not surprisingly, said that yes, stomach flu was a totally valid reason to take a day off from the streak. She added, "On January 1, I think will you will still feel successful if you can say 'I ran every single day except for the one after I puked my guts out.' Much better than, 'I ran every day until the one after I puked my guts out, then just decided to quit because I was no longer perfect.'"

I knew, of course, without her feedback that I was going to take a day off. I was practically too fatigued to go down the stairs, let alone strap on a sports bra and head out the door. But for some reason I needed reassurance that even if I didn't follow my instructions to a tee I'd still have something to be proud of, that if I didn't do the streak exactly right, it was still worth doing.

So the next day, feeling stronger, I ventured out for just a mile. It felt so good to be outside, the cool air in my lungs, the sun in the winter morning sky, that I ended up doing twice as much. And I decided, if the goal of the streak is to do a mile per day, then if I ran two miles that day, it would count for the day before. I was back on track.

I knew deep down that I could resume my streak and things would be fine but got caught up in the semantics of perfection. But if I'm like an extra-credit student, my network of exercise pals are like awesome teachers who make me excited to learn. And sometimes a good teacher needs to remind her student that a solid B (or even C) effort is still better than no effort at all.