Shaking the Cold

            The alarm is going off and my recently unconscious brain is trying to figure out which direction the noise is coming from. Once located, the real ordeal begins: How do I turn it off without exposing my arm to the cold air outside the toasty cocoon of blankets enveloping me? I lower the thermostat in my bedroom at night to save on utility costs, but it definitely makes getting out of bed a difficult task. Finally the desire to stop the annoying beep-beep-beep-beep wins out and I reach over and silence the alarm.

            Mornings for me are always a fun experience, mostly because the decisions that I made the night before seem so distant and irrelevant and/or silly after I wake up. Like the decision I made last night to go running this morning. I usually run at night, but I’m trying to wake up earlier so my mornings aren’t rushed. This morning the idea seems inane. I can barely stand the thought of uncovering one arm, let alone dragging my whole body out of bed in order to go exercise outside where it is guaranteed to be 30-40 degrees colder than my room.

            At this point, the guilt-trip side of my brain is finally waking up and it begins reminding me that I promised myself I would go running this morning. It asks me to think about what people would say if they only knew that I couldn’t even hold true to promises I made to myself. That thought pattern is luckily interrupted by the macho part of my brain; the part that says, “Man, you can do anything. Shoot, a little cold isn’t going to keep you from kicking some royal butt out there this morning. You’re a winner. Those sidewalks and gravel paths don’t stand a chance against you. Come on! Get up! Let’s do this!” Nothing like a pep talk to yourself.

            So I get up. I creep over to my closet and grab my running shoes, socks, sweat pants, and thick hoodie. After dressing I do my stretches inside. Sure, I’m pumped up to go running outside, but why be out in the cold longer than I have to? I open the front door and breathe in the crisp, frozen air. It sends a thrill through my body and I jump off the porch and hit the sidewalk running.

            I’m glad I got up this morning to do this. The last time I went running in the morning was over 14 years ago, when I was still in high school. Before I know it, the warm, fuzzy memories of my cross-country running days slowly work their way down the back of my neck and spread downward into my whole body, warming everything. The smell of the untouched morning air is exactly as I remember it, and the haloed street lights are just as cheerful and happy to light my way as they were back in the day.

            Running in the morning isn’t as bad as I imagined it would be as I laid there earlier deciding if I should hit the alarm or let it run its course. My fond memories are soon joined by thoughts about the rest of the day, and for the most part they are optimistic and invigorate me. I’m really looking forward to checking items off my to-do list today. Within a few minutes the cold is nothing but a relief to my burning lungs. Looks like I’ll be doing this more often.