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It's 4:40am and suddenly I am awakened by the sounds of KTIS on my radio. I stumble over all of the buttons on the clock until I find "Snooze" and push it quickly, the relief of silence my immediate reward. Then the internal battle starts, "I need to get up. I really need to get out of bed and go. I don't want Monte to wake up. I will feel better if I do" vs. "If I just shut off the alarm I can sleep for two more glorious hours. I don't think I can work out very well if my body is so exhausted. Who needs to work out? Oh yeah, I do. Ugh!"
If it weren't for my husband and his sweet way of rolling over and kissing my cheek to let me know he's awake (which I much prefer to being shaken, kicked or told to get out of bed!), I don't think I would have the motivation to get up. However, knowing that he can enjoy one more blissful hour of sleep usually gets my butt up and moving pretty quickly, as I don't want to be the hindrance that prevented that sleep!
I stumble to the bathroom, still half asleep. Turn on just one of the two lights - can't handle too much brightness. Use the toilet. Brush my teeth. Brush my hair. Put on my swimsuit and clothes - grab my bag and I'm out.
By 5:00am I am in the truck and headed off to our local pool. Thanks to my amazing friend, Susan, I have learned about the open swim hours that are available and have taken to swimming during the insane hours of the morning while the rest of town is still drooling on their pillows and snoring. I pull into the parking lot around 5:10am (give or take a few minutes) where Susan is promptly waiting (she's much better about getting there early!) and we head into the building. Talk a bit about our lack of sleep, the cold weather, our lack of sleep.
Drop my stuff in the locker room and head to rinse off before the swim. Get in the pool and spend the next 45 minutes doing laps. Reminding myself of why I'm doing it. Reminding myself to focus on my breathing because, once again, I forgot my inhaler at home and can't afford to have an asthma attack without it. Counting my strokes and wondering what it will take to learn to swim in a straight line. Maybe my former bosses (all Physical Therapists) were on to something when they said that one of my legs is longer than the other? Maybe that's why I can't swim straight?!
Regardless of what's rolling through my mind, I get through the swim and am out of the pool again promptly at 6:00am and into the showers. I'm still working on getting over the whole locker room showering experience. I'm more modest than I would have thought. It's getting easier, though.
Back into the truck by 6:20am and home by 6:30am so Monte can be off to work. Greet him with a kiss and, almost always, the phrase "I am SO exhausted!". Make breakfast and begin my day.
I never in a million years would have thought that I would be one to get up early to work out - but once breakfast is done and I am fully ready for the day at the early hour of 7:30am, I remember just how much I think the early mornings are totally worth it.
If only I can convince myself of that when the alarm goes off tomorrow morning!