I despise mornings.
I wish I could will myself to enjoy them.
Mostly, it’s just that moment when I’m faced with the forced decision to leave my perfect slumber and enter my chaotic day. It’s that first step out of bed that kills me.
The only thing that could make it any more miserable is knowing I must immediately up-shift into running mode.
Mornings do have a cult following by many runners. I get it: the peace and quiet, the minimal traffic, the satisfaction of getting it out of the way and moving on with your day. Not to mention the wonderful flood of mental clarity and energy afterward, and the feeling that you’ve achieved something before dawn.
But how about the stiff muscles, the fuzzy thought processes, and the tiredness from lack of sleep because you’re lying awake worrying about lack of sleep (after all, you have to run in the morning)?
Who are these crazies that just leap out of bed with a spring in their step at the crack of dawn? Who resist the urge to rationalize with themselves about why a few more minutes of sleep is well worth it? It just doesn’t seem fair.
That being said, I’m sort of on a mission to force myself into becoming one of these sweat-before-sunrise-loving nuts, one of these “morning people” (apparently, you can will yourself to become one of them.) Since the race is in the morning, it’s really best if I train at that time of day. So I’ve made the morning switch, starting this week.
I think a lot of runners are naturally a bit obsessed with testing their limits. They like to let themselves feel a little pain and discomfort, to wade around in it for a bit, because that’s the best way to grow.
And I sort of feel like, if I can just will myself take that very first step out of bed—no matter how uncomfortable—then I’m capable of just about anything.