I didn’t want to do it.
The bed felt just too good, enveloping me with the cool caress of freshly laundered sheets and topped with a quilted comforter, one fashioned by my own two disbelieving hands, a cocoon of crisp cotton patterned in a fun Halloween print of orange, purple, black and gray.
The minutes ticked by but I knew it was inevitable. Eventually, I tossed the covers aside and pulled on my pandemic uniform: black lycra leggings, turtle neck, sweatshirt. After a quick peck on hubby’s cheek and a ruffling of puppy’s fur, I left the house at 5:05 under a Hunter’s moon. The air was a bit chill though I would not have objected had it been cooler still.
I walked for an hour and until the last fifteen minutes did not encounter another human out and about under their own power. There were a few cars at first but before long the roads and streets were busied with people driving to work, stopping along the way to McDonald’s for a quick breakfast or to drop precious cargo off at daycare.
I never want to get up so early in the morning. Staying in bed somehow feels so decadent at times, like I deserve this, like you can’t make me leave, like you can’t make me do this! That’s okay. I allow myself to take a few minutes, then perhaps a few minutes more. And yes, I’ll fall back asleep sometimes and don’t wake up until well after the sun has notched a few degrees above the horizon. But I always feel better when I do get up, before the sun does and I get my walk in for the day, first thing. The day is just off to a better start when I do!