The problem with running at 5:30AM is that no matter how relaxed and refreshed I feel immediately afterwards, by the end of the day, I just want to do it again to keep from choking the shit out of someone.
Then, as anger rises like a boiling tide within me, I take myself back in time: alone in the pre-dawn world, sweaty and breathing hard. The robins are singing their wake-up songs, the roosters are crowing their wake-up calls; but I'm already wide awake. The well-earned steam comes off my sweatshirt in the cold, crisp, clear early Spring air. My breath makes little clouds [a "smoke ring" if I'm feeling especially playful] as I gasp for air before taking a deep pull on my slushy water bottle just as it begins to freeze.
I take a few deep inhales, through my nose as always, return to the present and I'm okay.
Zen.
Lessons Learned
1 day ago
2 comments:
Very Zen. Gosh your 5.30am runs sound lovely. Mine are a lot less lyrical. Something about dragging my sorry butt out of bed, and taking my enthusiastic black dog out for a run, and ending up carrying around half a kilo of dog shit until I can find a bin. Sigh.
There are very few people in the world who can use "lovely" in a sentence and not make me feel just a little bit gay [NTTAWWT]
You are one of them.
BTW: Guinness is the best name ever for a Black & Tan dog
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