This is the second morning in a row that I've gotten up at 5 am to run. More: I love it, the dark and the chill, the quiet, the silence. There's nearly no one out at that time in the day; for once, I feel the closest to alone I have ever felt, running in the pre- sunrise morning. I look forward to it.
I started running in the morning yesterday on a whim; I woke up and thought, hey, it'd be nice to spend tonight just relaxing, instead of eating early and waiting to run. I got out of bed and into my running clothes before I could change my mind; ran out to the north end of post, only turning when I saw wild dogs (!!!) by the guard towers, out where no one lives.
I get it. I spent the rest of my day happy and energized. I had taken my me- time first thing in the day and it made a huge difference. That said, I've never been the girl to get out of bed first, or easily, or voluntarily, or really, without a shoehorn and a kick in the rear. (Now that I think of it, I was pretty much out of bed early every day I was on mid- tour, but that could be chalked up to wanting to enjoy my time home.)
I get it; I just don't get me doing it, that's all.