When the alarm went off at 5:30, I was having a dream. I was dreaming that there was an alarm going off on my iPhone, and it was bothering people. I was getting more and more anxious as I tried to turn it off, even deleting the app, only to have it reappear on my screen and keep beeping. I kept repeating “I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” over and over again.
Yes, I am Canadian, why do you ask?
I woke up to my phone slowly vibrating towards the edge of my dresser, beeping incessantly with each spasmodic flash and jump. I blinked a few times, making sure I was awake and not still in my weird dream, and fumbled it open to turn off the noise. Ahhh…
With a silent groan, I remembered why I set the infernal thing, and extricated myself from my sleeping, slightly feverish child. I tucked her in beside her father, and half-limped, half-dragged myself out of the room. The rest of my family was asleep, and I was awake. The house was dark, cold, and creaky.
I was dark, cold, and creaky too. The house and I, we get each other this early in the morning.
So what the &@#$ was I doing up so early? On purpose? Going for a run.
I know, right? Hard core. Bad *@#. Tough.
I am not a morning person. Somewhere in between my roaring 20’s and having kids, I turned from a “get up and bounce” kind of girl to a “I’ll pay you $100 to get up and deal with the kids while I sleep” kind of mom. I can’t ever seem to get enough sleep. I cherish sleeping in when I can, I nap when I can, and I totally followed the adage “sleep when baby sleeps” to the letter. Sleep is precious, and I think I am still catching up from having two kids. I have not slept through the night (truly) since my before my son was born. He is 4. Either a child wakes me up, or I do, wondering why a child has not woken me up.
I pray, fervently, for the day my daughter sleeps through every night, and I can wake up blissfully rested and alert. *cue uproarious laugh t rack*
I used to be up at 5 am every day for my job riding race horses. It was joy to wake up, stretch and see mares and foals out my boarding house window. I would dress quickly, make instant coffee with hot tap water, sugar and milk, shove a breakfast bar in my face, and be on my way, humming some random tune. My room mates always gave me dirty looks, their rumpled pajama-clad bodies a heap at the kitchen table. I was in love with my world, and couldn’t wait to be awake and experiencing it.
I think that was the key. I was in love with what I did.
So, as I wrapped a towel around the blender to keep it quiet, and dressed in the living room, I was still scratching sleep crud out of my eyes. As I sat and checked the weather (read: Cold. @#$%&*^% Cold) I crossed my fingers I had enough layers on. I left the house at 6:30, bundled in 16 warm-up layers, and hoping the seats would heat up quickly.
but, I was awake, and excited to get to the meeting point. In fact, I was downright bushy-tailed, and dancing in my seat to morning music by the time I was halfway there.
I met up with the other lone runner who braved the early morning cold with me to run our 5k Run Club route. Cameraderie was immediate because we were two crazy women out for a run at 7 in the morning. It was -2 degrees Celcius. Running in the daylight was really nice, compared to our evening runs in the dark, and the early morning sun was glinting off the frost on the (four!) couches we passed curbside, and all the super boxes in the neighbourhood were completely coated white. it was still and quiet.
Was there a couch sale we needed to know about, because a lot of folks were getting rid of their couches this weekend.
My legs, when we started, were numb. My feet, ice blocks. My nose and mouth? I need a muffler if I’m going to run in cooler weather than this. We tucked our fists into the palm of our gloves, letting the fingers of the gloves wiggle as we ran. By the first kilometre, my super-expensive running gloves were toasty, and I was able to have human hands again.
I love my running gloves, for the record.
Turns out, in the early, cold of morning, we ran each successive kilometre faster than the last. In fact, our last kilometre was our fastest, sub-7 minute, and it was up a HILL! We were puffing by the time we got back to our starting point, but we were warm, happy, endorphin-rich… and it was only just after 7:30. I was really grateful to run with someone who was happy to be out there with me.
It was a good run. Scratch that, it was a great run. I realized I was done my workout for the day, and it was likely my house wasn’t even awake yet. Score!
That day, I got a lot of the house cleaned up, vaccuumed (when do I ever get motivated enough to vaccuum?) and organized a bookshelf that I had been putting off organizing for weeks. I was so energized! I know this won’t be an every day thing, but I was proud of the fact that I had dragged my non-morning-person butt out of bed and went and ran, and did not fall down, trip, or otherwise hurt myself in the process (trust me, y’all, I am a total Zombiemom most mornings). I think my husband was in awe of this woman, who normally on a Sunday morning is grumbling on the couch with a barrel-sized coffee, eyes half-open, hair in the shape of a rat’s nest. The kids, sensing I was in a good mood, actually helped me clean, and I bounced around with them!
Next Sunday, I hope more folks come out. It will be great (honest, gals, come out and see!), and I’m actually looking forward to being up that early. I’m in love with something again. I’m excited about being awake in my world again.
Next thing you know, I’ll be a morning person…