In my sleepy haze, I'm awake enough to hope it's about an hour before the 5:23 a.m. alarm time. That gives me enough time to take care of this full bladder and then crawl back into my warm bed for a little nap before officially getting up.
I love that little extra nap. Feels so decadent. Like I'm outsmarting the alarm.
The worst possible scenario? I'm only 10 minutes in front of the annoying ring that emits from my cell phone. When I only have 10 minutes, I pee for two and then actually fall back asleep for eight. Hard. Waking up after that short, hard sleep is just painful.
Good news. The clock reads 4:11 a.m. Which is really about 3:55 a.m or so, since Jim has this clock set ahead ... but I'm never sure by exactly how much. Perfect for peeing and napping.
(This is a quirk in our house. The clock on the stove and microwave are approximately real time. Jim's bedroom clock, the one I am discussing above, is set fast. The one in the master bath is also set a bit ahead, but not as much as the one in the bedroom. Why? My brain is too tired to do math most of the time and the "not knowing" what time it really is gets me up and out of bed faster. I know. I know. It's stupid. But it gets better. I have a handful of alarm times set on my phone ... so I have to just pick one depending on the day and what's going on. None of them are set for "normal" times like 6:15 or 5:30 or 7 a.m. They are all set for odd numbers, preferably prime. Like 6:19 a.m. vs. 6:15. Or 5:23 a.m. vs. 5:30. It's bad luck to set them on the "round" numbers. Don't ask.)
Off to sleep.
Awake again to the still-dark and still-quiet house. My one-eyed clock check lets me know that the alarm will likely ring in a few minutes.
That's when the debate in my head begins.
"Mondays should be rest days," Evil declares. "You ran long yesterday and your knees need a recuperation day."
"You ate like a horse yesterday," Good reminds all three of us. "You could take a rest day in good conscience if you'd just learn to eat right."
"Maybe just a quick bike ride and Day 3 strength workout," Good suggests. "A little cardio would be a good way to start a Monday."
Evil holds his own. "You have to be in Rockton at 8 a.m. for a meeting. You can't be late. It's 5:30 a.m. now and bike and strength take at least an hour. You need an hour to shower and get ready ... 6:30 to 7:30 a.m. ... and still make it, but it's snowing and the roads might be bad. So that might be pushing it. You might not have time to get that all in."
"Maybe you should just bike. Or just do strength. There isn't time for BOTH." Evil's left eyebrow goes up on with this last word, like the Grinch. He's almost daring Good and I to argue. He knows that the snuggly warm sheets and heavy eyelids are working in his favor.
"There you go again," Good exasperates. "There is time. There was time. But you're lying here not getting up and time is ticking. Get your fat ass out of bed (even Good has a mouth) and get started already. Honestly! Do we have to do this every morning? It's such a waste of time."
Evil won't be bullied. "I am tired. I am hungry. Today is going to be a long day. Thirty more minutes of sleep will be more valuable than any workout," he says.
"Really?" Good asks. "Reeeeallllyy. You know what the right thing to do is. And if you don't get up out of this bed and hit the stairs, you'll feel like a loser all day. You'll feel puffy and lethargic and you'll kick yourself ... all damn day. The workout IS the reward. Remember all of those mornings for all of those months when you didn't give this a second thought? When you rolled out of bed to run your four miles because that's just what you did every morning?"
"You are that person. You can do this. You want to do this. So just do this already or you really will be out of time."
"Don't think, just get up," says Good. She's not yelling. She's not demanding. She's not whispering. Her voice in my head is just forceful enough. Steady. Controlled. Purposeful.
And my legs engage, swinging over the side of the bed before my brain can fully register the action.
The voices go away then. It's like they can only talk when my head is horizontal. I picture it a bit like a bubble in a level. Once the bubble moves to where it's supposed to be, the noise just stops.
I throw in a load of laundry and throw on some workout clothes. I hit the stairs, still unsure of what workout I'm going to do.
All I know with certainty is that I am up and I won. I beat Evil this morning. That one small victory sets me up for the next one, because I am well aware that though I have won the battle at hand, the war continues.
And I will fight it one challenge, one choice, at a time.
.jpg)
No comments:
Post a Comment