I already know that I am not a morning person. It’s well documented by Berry Guy, who *affectionately* refers to me as “the bear”, as in “oh look, The Bear has emerged from her cave” or something along those lines.
But I’d really like to be a morning person. I really would. I’d love to be one of those people who kick themselves out of bed at 5:30am so that they can get their run in and be home by 6:30am, and then have their whole day ahead of them to sip coffee and do all their stuff (you know they sip coffee because lord knows they’re going to need it after waking up at 5:30).
Every once in a while, I’ll get the urge to change my pattern (like I did back in June). I’ll start to think about how great it would be if I got up, had my run, and then was ready for the day. I’ll get all excited and start planning it. I’ll think about what time I should get up, how long I will run, and which route (which really just means I decide if I’ll head North or South, there’s not a lot of options out here). I’ll plan my clothing – should I wear shorts or capris? One of my sassy running tanks, or a sports bra and shirt? If it’s cool, I’ll want long sleeves, but I’ll want to take them off half way when I start to heat up, so how should I layer that? I’ll plan to get up just early enough to get some espresso going and slam back a latte, so I’ll pre-grind my espresso beans that evening so that I don’t wake the kiddos with the grinder at 5:30am. I’ll get really excited, and in all my planning I’ll be thinking “Sweet! This is going to be SO GREAT!”
You’ll notice that all this sweet planning takes place in the evening. When I have loads of energy. Before I go to bed. I’m sure you know what’s coming.
Every time, pretty much, my wakeup time rolls around, I glare at my alarm, smack it off, and roll over. Because it’s 5:30am, for crying out loud. And then, when I’ve regained consciousness an hour or two later, I am filled with regret and self loathing, because I am not disciplined enough to do it.
So last night, my running friend Machon messaged me and asked me if I would run with her this morning at 8am. I messaged her back and said “totally! sure!” and got all excited about it. After all, 8am is not really *early*, since the boys are always up at the crack of 7:00 anyway.
So I got up this morning, brewed some coffee, had a little cereal, and hopped out the door to meet Machon. The plan was to do 8km – a long run for her but a pretty normal distance for me. No problem. Plus, we’re really well matched for pace, and I enjoy running with her.
We start off, and I warn her that I’m slower in the mornings, and she is relieved because she is too. And as the run progresses, I am reminded why I don’t like to get up and run in the mornings. My legs feel like lead. My head is foggy. It’s really cool outside. And my legs feel like lead.
We continue running, and I’m fairly certain that we’ve run at least 5km by now. Which is when Machon calls out “well that’s 3!” as her Nike+ keeps informing her how far we’ve gone. I suddenly hate Nike+. We keep running, and my legs and lungs decide to form a union and strike for unfair work conditions. Machon calls out “4km!” and I want to lay down on the road and stay there for a while. I’m desperate to beg for mercy and ask for a walk break, but I don’t because I’m way too much of a moron proud and competitive for that, and Machon is not asking for a walk break, so therefore I can’t either.
I struggle through another couple of kms, and then we hit 6km, and I *almost* start to feel ok. Then Machon calls out “7km” and we have one more to go. And it is the longest kilometer of my life. It is like the horrible run that has no end. When we finally stop, I am so relieved I want to cry. Well not really, I’m just really really relieved.
And that, my friends, is why I am not a morning runner. And I’m writing it down so that the next time I get all excited and planny (I know, that’s not a word), then I can look back on this blog entry and remember my own misery.
Although, once we were done, and I’d had some more coffee, and I had the whole day ahead of me with no pressure to try to fit in a run later, I was kind of glad…
6 comments:
I am so with you on this one! My morning runs this weekend were at 9:45 and 11:00. That's about as morning as I get. LOL
I have to confess... I contemplated joining you guys that morning... I read of your plans just as I was putting on my socks at 6:40 that morning. I wondered if I would still have the jam to get moving at 8. I figured, while in my snuggly bed, that if I lay there, I'd just keep thinking that I missed the perfect opportunity... I hate to feel hot. I love the shade from the bushes, since the sun is so low in the sky. And I was a little worried my pace would slow you two down... which is stupid. And I didn't want to run out of time for a run if I spent the morning packing for our camping trip. Our WET, early ending, complete with thunder/lightning and soaked to the bone camping trip. Cuz that's worthy of it's own post. Stay tuned.
Mornings. Nope.
cool cool blog!! you are definintly a writer :=)
Didn't I write something here? Did someone delete it? Was it inappropriate? Wow, I'm losing touch.
no, you did not write something here, although it would not have surprised me if it was inappropriate *snicker*
Post a Comment