5 A.M. Is for the Birds...
And klutzes like me.
Honestly, I don't know how people get up before daylight. It is fortunate that I was born in the latter part of the twentieth century because I would have been the worst pioneer/homesteader/farmhand ever. As the rooster crowed and beckoned me to work, I would have pulled the quilt up over my head and launched a boot at his head. Mornings are not the highlight of my days.
Which is pretty funny considering that from now until October I will have to be one of those crazy morning people. Five long months of early rising - it makes me whimper to think about it, but there is just no way around it. My training runs have now worked up to such a distance that trying to be a good family member and contributing to the household while fitting in the miles is too much for one evening. Besides, summer temperatures are just around the bend and running in the heat of the evening would be absurd. So, this week I have made the switch from pm to am and it hasn't been easy. As I shuffle through the dark and sleeping city, I am amazed to see so many lit up windows. Who are these people and why aren't they sleeping like I wish I was?
And I think it was while I was wishing that I was still asleep this morning when in both a flash and a stretch of time that I ate it. I ate it big time into the ground beneath a pine tree. The sidewalk jumped up, grabbed my ankle and threw me to the ground after it spun me around like a lasso. Really.
No? Okay, so I tripped, but it felt like the sidewalk was taking its revenge based on the velocity with which I slammed into the hard, hard ground. I may or may not have teared up. For the next two miles I was convinced that I had broken my hand and that a trip to the ER was going to be inevitable. Thankfully, my hand cooled off and regained its usability before my run was over. My hip, shoulder and knee did not fare as well and they are now bruised and road rashed. Ow. My pride got pretty bruised too. And this is where I am thankful for running in the wee hours of the morn. Not a single person witnessed my shining moment of grace.
I can't say the same for when I had to drive back an hour later to dig my phone out of the trees.
Honestly, I don't know how people get up before daylight. It is fortunate that I was born in the latter part of the twentieth century because I would have been the worst pioneer/homesteader/farmhand ever. As the rooster crowed and beckoned me to work, I would have pulled the quilt up over my head and launched a boot at his head. Mornings are not the highlight of my days.
Which is pretty funny considering that from now until October I will have to be one of those crazy morning people. Five long months of early rising - it makes me whimper to think about it, but there is just no way around it. My training runs have now worked up to such a distance that trying to be a good family member and contributing to the household while fitting in the miles is too much for one evening. Besides, summer temperatures are just around the bend and running in the heat of the evening would be absurd. So, this week I have made the switch from pm to am and it hasn't been easy. As I shuffle through the dark and sleeping city, I am amazed to see so many lit up windows. Who are these people and why aren't they sleeping like I wish I was?
And I think it was while I was wishing that I was still asleep this morning when in both a flash and a stretch of time that I ate it. I ate it big time into the ground beneath a pine tree. The sidewalk jumped up, grabbed my ankle and threw me to the ground after it spun me around like a lasso. Really.
No? Okay, so I tripped, but it felt like the sidewalk was taking its revenge based on the velocity with which I slammed into the hard, hard ground. I may or may not have teared up. For the next two miles I was convinced that I had broken my hand and that a trip to the ER was going to be inevitable. Thankfully, my hand cooled off and regained its usability before my run was over. My hip, shoulder and knee did not fare as well and they are now bruised and road rashed. Ow. My pride got pretty bruised too. And this is where I am thankful for running in the wee hours of the morn. Not a single person witnessed my shining moment of grace.
I can't say the same for when I had to drive back an hour later to dig my phone out of the trees.
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~bluepoppy