I laid in bed this morning wrapped up in blankets. I could feel the cold air on my face. I stared up at the black ceiling deciding if I should get up. I turned to look at the curtains and noticed that the sun hadn't started to come up yet.
I rolled over and watched the glow of the sun start to come over the tops of the curtains. I watched as the length of the light grew longer like a lighthouse shining over the ocean. As it stretch slowly across the ceiling, I decided it was time to get up.
I stood up and noticed how dark the room still was. I looked at the window. It was framed with the glow of the rising sun.
Quietly, I tried to feel my way around the room trying to find a pair of running pants and jacket. As I slipped into my running pants, I realized that it's mornings like this that remind me of why I enjoy mornings.
I haven't always been a morning person. In fact, I don't know if I can say that I am now. It's just the nature of the beast. For the past 15 years, I've risen before the sun and before anyone else in the house to run, swim, bike, hike, snowshoe....even walk the dogs.
Over those 15 years, I remember the winter mornings best. There is something about running in the cold. No one else is out. I can see my breath as I run. I can feel icicles forming on my eyelashes. Maybe it's the feeling of being cleansed. The air feels clean and cold.
After the run, I sit in "my space"(the library) with a cup of coffee, staring out the window enjoying the silence before the rest of the house wakes up.
Today won't be an icy cold run, but it will still be an early run by myself while the coffee brews at home waiting for my return.