Tuesday, February 19, 2013

Running at Dawn

The pounding of my running shoes was the only sound in the still dawn, until I heard the beeping. I ran towards it, unable to find the source, knowing only that the shrill noise had knocked me off my stride.

In my confusion, I tripped over a crack in the street, but before I could hit the ground, I was swimming through murky black towards the noise that got louder and louder.

Until.

I snapped into consciousness and fumbled for my alarm in the dark, eyes still closed. 

Dreaming, I realized, incredibly disappointed to find that I was still in bed and hadn't, in fact, gone for my run yet. But now it was time.

The three miles looming ahead of me might as well have been three hundred for how insurmountable it seemed as I struggled to unravel myself from the toasty tangle of blankets.

My desperation to reset the alarm and sleep another hour bordered on painful, and even as I swung my legs over the side of the bed, I bargained with myself. I could sleep this morning and run tomorrow. I could run Wednesday and Friday instead of Tuesday and Thursday. But even in my exhaustion I knew that argument was a slippery slope. With a marathon looming in the distance, routine was critical.

Up, I ordered myself.

Get dressed.

With an ease born from many mornings picking my way through a pitch black bedroom, I pulled on the running clothes I had laid out the night before.

With a last longing look at my bed piled with pillows and my still-sleeping husband, I left the room.

I floated down the stairs in a cloud of exhaustion and laced up the running shoes that I left right in front of the door. When one gets up before the sun, it is best to leave little to chance.

The street was silent, all the windows still dark as I began to run.

My legs were heavy with fatigue, and my lungs burned as I breathed in the frigid winter air. I fought for every step as I slogged my way through the miles.

I huffed and puffed up the hills, thinking of a hot shower. Hot coffee. More sleep.

Strange pains pricked my knees, shins and feet and I wondered why I subjected myself to this cruel early-morning torture three times a week. I thought how exhausted I would be all day long, and cursed my job for its long hours, leaving me no choice but to run at this ungodly hour of the morning.

But as I rounded the corner towards home, I saw the sun, a brilliant ball of fire, rising in the sky. Wild bursts of color dotted the horizon. Alone on the still quiet street, I stopped for a second to watch, my fatigue slowly draining away.

I felt strong. Powerful. Fierce.

I am a runner.

And a voice inside my head whispered, "this is why."

I ran the last few yards to my house, ready to face the day.


28 comments:

  1. Stories like this make me dream of running. Unlike you, my alarm clock won't wake me from such dreams. I know that I'm not a runner.
    Still, a pre-dawn walk with the dog sounds great after reading this.

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  2. What a great portrait of the pain commitment can provoke...the slogging out of bed? I felt your pain!

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  3. You runners are a fascinating breed.

    (I am not part of that breed, but I admire your tenacity.)

    I am here from Yeah Write.

    Nice to meet you.

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  4. It's been years since I last forced myself out of bed early to go to the gym, but I can remember how alive I felt after. Until about lunch time when I would start craving my bed.

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  5. I like how you captured your different moods in different parts of your morning. Good luck with your training!

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  6. I am in awe of your fierce determination and discipline. I am such a slug. lol I'm supposed to be doing a bike marathon and I've been on the bike once in the last 3 weeks. okay, so the weather's been bad, but... ;) You're right though; that feeling you get when you're all done...energized and ready to meet the day...that makes it all worthwhile and you know why you're doing it. Early morning quiet is really nice too - before the rest of the world awakens. You've inspired me to get on that damn bike. Tomorrow. ;)

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  7. love being with you as you head for home and find your stride. those early morning runs are killer. but they are so worth it when they are over! yay coffee! :)

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  8. I admire your passion and dedication to running.

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  9. Awesome post, Samantha. You and I have talked about the power of discipline, and how rewarding having done whatever it is you may not have wanted to do (running, writing, etc) is after you've done it. You captured all that perfectly. It's how I feel often about getting up to write, but it's always worth it. . .

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  10. you, um, *run*? god bless you my friend - I do not have it in me to do that anymore.

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  11. Discipline and dedication - two fantastic qualities you have abounding in spades, my friend. Good work -- both the running and the post. I am proud of your accomplishment!

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  12. I loved this piece, Samantha. You perfectly captured the pre-run inner struggle and the post-run feelings of power and victory.

    I really like your new blog header, by the way. Looks great.

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  13. Gorgeous. And fierce. I know the feelings you describe all too well. And I'm grateful to know them - even the angst of getting started. Once those endorphins kick in, there's no better feeling. Beautiful post, Samantha. I'm getting off my ass now to find my fierce!

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  14. What marathon are you doing? I missed that. Damn I love having run a marathon, though the actual running and training sort of get in the way of my life. I love that you got the reward of sunshine and exercise and joy. I will be cheering you all the way.

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  15. I liked that your change in perspective only came as you encountered something random and beautiful. It wasn't the dull routine or any endorphin rush but something tangible and rare that grounded you.

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  16. This is so wonderfully written. So detailed. Inspirational. Makes me want run and feel the reward it brings. TY for such a beautifully written story. TY

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  17. I really admire your ability to run in the morning like that. It takes so much discipline and clearly you have it!!

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  18. When I worked, EARLY (read 5am) was the only time I could fit exercise in. I so know the feeling but always felt great afterwards. Love the toasty tangle of blankets ;)

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  19. You're determination stirs up in me whatever small piece of a runner I have inside of me. But it's cold and snowy here so I run indoors. Once in a while. I'd like to do it outdoors come summer but I'm not sure if I have the determination to it that you have.

    Nice post. :)

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  20. I used to run in the mornings but now I have kids (ages 4,3 and 2). Now I do a caffeine drip and pray they don't wake me before 6am. And I can relate to the realistic dreams - only to wake up to find you still have to do the thing you've been dreading! Nice post. I liked the imagery.

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  21. It's like you took a page out of my own journal (and then re-wrote it beautifully). I've been a runner for 15+ years now, and I can definitely relate. All I need is that one special moment or a good day of finding my stride to help me remember why I forgo my lovely sleep. Excellent post!

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  22. Your running posts always inspire me. I have found the absolute most important thing I can do to help ensure that I'll actually get up is to have my running gear out and ready. If I haven't already laid it all out, then it's a pretty good chance I'm not going, becuase there is too much time for me to talk myself out of it.

    Really loved this.

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  23. I love it when a sunrise or a sunset swoops in and changes everything! Congrats on your continued efforts. I admire your persistence.

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  24. I've come to know that "this is why" voice myself, and now when I try to explain it to people who don't run, I get Eric Go Crazy Again looks. Reading this made me annoyed that I shrugged off *my* run today, so thank you. Great, great, great post.

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  25. Samantha, your new header looks great! And of course I love this post; for a few years my only running option was before sunrise and I remember well the struggle to get moving and the subsequent happiness.

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  26. Amazing! I love the power of the sun. I really enjoyed how you used the heaviness of the darkness in this piece. Your words (and your running) pierced right through it!

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  27. I can totally relate. I don't/can't run outside for several reasons, but I can run at home a few mornings a week before everyone else wakes up. While I hate those first few moments of trying to wake up and struggling to get going, I enjoy the peace that comes with being the only one awake at that time. And I LOVE the feeling after it is all done.

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