Anyone who knows me knows that I'm a morning person. I tend to awake before the alarm clock goes off, I think pretty clearly in the morning, and I relish that time that is mine.
Truth be told, morning person is not always an easy role to play. There are days when I'm so anxious about waking before the alarm clock blares that my body will wake up multiple times during the night. {It's a leftover people-pleasing habit of mine: I don't want the alarm to wake my very-much-not-morning-person husband. He wouldn't mind – he'd just go back to sleep. But those of you who are natural people pleasers know the struggle. It's a trait I'm working on overcoming, but that's for another time.} This past night I awoke during the twelve o'clock hour, the three o'clock hour, and finally let myself out of bed at the four o'clock hour. The gym opens at five thirty.
As for thinking clearly in the morning, I'm not sure that's accurate. I think that being awake but not necessarily alert straightaway forces my conscious and my unconscious to mingle near a fuzzy line, similar to a school dance where the girls congregate on one side of the gym while the boys huddle on the other side. It's those brave people or thoughts that mingle close to the dividing line that are open to new lessons. Any time I've been inspired to write, it's been in the early morning hours.
Being a mom and wife and daughter and daughter-in-law and freelance worker, there are precious few hours (let alone things) that I can call my own. I don't begrudge anyone anything they ask of me: my hours, my shoulder to cry on, my lap to snuggle on, my ear to vent to, my van to haul stuff, my time. But in naturally caring I occasionally fall off the wagon into people pleasing. I lose myself to the needs and concerns of others. In these early morning hours, only I am awake. I can have a cup of tea or watch the television or read many pages undisturbed. A lesson from my mom though: "Do unto others AS unto you, not better than you." It's like being the airplane lesson: put on your oxygen mask first so that you can help others with theirs.
Instead of drinking tea or reading a book, I am wearing the clothes I laid out last night and I'm off to the gym. Do I want to go? No, not really today. I'd like to go later in the day, but I don't have time later in the day. And so much of my gaining or failing to lose weight has been making excuses: why I can't exercise, why I'll taste just a little. Excuses are no longer part of my life. Reasons yes, excuses no.
So I'll pull on my boots and head into the dark early morning, and – after the initial shock of cold –will breathe in the precious air. The air will fill my lungs and prepare them for the hard workout ahead. The crisp air will awaken me. And I will be thankful throughout the entire day that I get to experience the thrill of challenge, the daily routine, and the little bumps in the road. I'm glad to be alive. There'll be time for sleeping later (I've let it be known that when it's my turn to die, I request that my coffin be lined with flannel), but for now
I have promises to keep.
And miles to go before I sleep.
("Stopping By The Woods On A Snowy Evening" -- Robert Frost)
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