It always seems like a good idea until the minute my alarm goes off. Or, until the minute I wake up five minutes before my alarm goes off.
I have to get up right away, before my brain starts working. If my brain engages, even for a second, it's remarkably easy to talk myself out of morning exercise and close my eyes for another hour of sleep, and then the opportunity is lost.
When I do get up, I'm always happy I did, but those first few minutes are always, always painful.
This morning wasn't an exception.
The alarm rang at 5:30. It was half an hour before I normally get up to exercise, but with my new-found discovery of spin classes, I wanted to catch a 6am class before work. So 5:30 it was.
I turned off my alarm as quickly as I could so David wouldn't hear it, and crept out of my room, eyes practically closed and hands full of the clothes I had laid out the night before.
By the time I was awake enough for my brain to protest I was already in the car, backing out of the driveway in the darkness.
The first few minutes of the class were slow and sluggish, but as the music kicked up, so did I. I shook off the exhaustion, and for 45 minutes, I flew.
I left the class feeling energized, as early morning exercise tends to do.
And when I pulled back into my driveway to rush inside and get ready for work, the sun was just starting to rise. So instead of rushing I got a cup of coffee, went back outside, and took these pictures.
Those first few minutes are always torture, but the rest of it? Not bad. Not bad at all.