I started jogging on Saturday. Usually, I start early-morning jogs at the beginning of April, when the sun creeps over the mountains a little earlier each morning. This year, however, I was dragging my feet. Waiting another day each morning. I didnt have a triple A battery for my MP3 player. I needed some new running shoes (as my old ones had literally worn through the sole).
Finally, I spent some extra money. I bought a new pair of running shorts and a tank top. See, I have myself figured out. I've always been a little cheap (yes, I admit it) so if I invest any money in something, it's a big enough motivator to get me doing it. I know this is how I work. I trick myself into spending the money when I'm not having to drag my heavy feet out of my warm, comfortable bed, complete with 600-thread-count sheets, at 6 am.
So, I did it on Saturday. I lied in bed for almost an hour before. But then I jumped up, put on my new running outfit, turned on my MP3 player, and ran out the door.
I start out each year by running a little, walking a little, running a little, you get the picture. That way my chest and head don't explode by the end of the first half hour. And it always feels so good. (Well, about a half hour after I've swallowed three Extra Strength Tylenol and had my strawberry-banana shake.)
I love though how when you are out in the morning exercising, you're thrown into an elite group of other die-hard, early-morning exercisers--bikers, Olympic-paced walkers, other runners. I think several years ago, even the deer thought I was one of them. (They never ran off skittishly as I went by, as they've been known to do. Unfortunately, the neighborhood isn't as deer friendly as it used to be. Not with all the million-dollar houses being built up the mountain.) When you're up early exercising, the other exercisers are friendly in a way that they're not several hours after the sun's been up. I like being a part of that group.
It's no mystery why I've been dragging my feet this year. The last time I'd awoken early to jog was the morning I was in my life-altering car accident. I'd stopped jogging immediately, as my ribs and a knee had been roughed up and I was planning a funeral for my daughter. Yes, starting my jogging this year signified the end of something. Or was it the beginning of something? Moving on. As much as I don't want to, I guess I have to live on--and jog on.
