I am not a morning person. I have never been a morning person. I either sleep really, really hard or barely at all. Either way, I don’t like to crawl out of my warm cozy bed until I’m darn good and ready. However, because my dang kids have decided to have a life, mine has gotten all jam packed with activities. It has become too common (and easy) to skip evening work outs with all the activities. So it only makes “sense” to start working out in the morning. (I use the term “makes sense” very, very loosely.) I plan to chronicle my journey to becoming a morning person. If you have a problem with cussing, rudeness, and insults, you may just want to skip over any posts that are related to this journey. I will likely have both a foul mouth and a foul mood until I “become” a morning person. You have been warned.
My alarm goes off at 5:30 in the morning. Whoever declared this time of day as “morning” is a crazy person. This is the middle of the night. Everyone knows the best sleep happens between 4am and 7am. Duh!
My alarm is “harps”. I thought I was being clever when I set my alarm as harps. I thought it would be better than being jarred out of bed with a screeching alarm. Turns out, that wasn’t clever at all. That was annoying. I now know I hate harps. The next time I see a harp I fully intend to drop kick it and anyone near it.
I have asked my husband (who IS a morning person) to help encourage me out of bed. I quickly realize morning people suck. And I hate the sound of his voice. His encouragement continues incessantly. I shush him, but it doesn’t work. He finally goes downstairs to get the coffee on. Aaaah, sweet silence. I lie in my warm, cozy bed and argue with myself. Eventually (15 minutes later) the logical girl wins and I finally (unwillingly) leave my warm, cozy bed. Have I mentioned I have the best bed ever?
I slowly stomp down the stairs and get on the couch under a nice soft blanket. It’s freezing in our house. Where the heck is my coffee anyway? Oh, there it is. My hubby brings it to me. I hate him a little less. My sweet toy Yorkie climbs up on my lap and we’re both nestled on the couch, under the blanket with a steaming cup of coffee. This isn’t so bad. I come up with a great idea. I tell my husband this could be my “practice” day. I get credit for getting out of bed and then maybe tomorrow I’ll go one step further and actually go to the gym. Mr. Cheery McMorning person says I’m already up and I just need to go and get it over with. I hate him more.
I’m finally in my car at 6:20 headed to the gym. I’ve been “up” since 5:30 AM!!!! You would think I’d be awake by now. But, then you’d be forgetting that tiny little detail…I AM NOT A MORNING PERSON! I pass a park on my way to the gym. I contemplate pulling in there and hiding and just saying I went to the gym. I don’t do that. Mostly because I missed the entrance.
I go inside the gym and turn on my iPod. The first song is, “My Own Worst Enemy”. I briefly chuckle at the irony and then go right back to being pissy. I sit on the first machine and realize I don’t remember what weight I normally do on this thing. So, I decide to check into facebook instead. I successfully check in and I’m feeling smug. Hell, if I’m going to be up this early, people should know.
I log out of facebook and realize I still don’t remember what weight I normally do. So I sit there for another minute, wondering if you can get fit by just sitting there. You know, osmosis? I quickly think back to all my personal trainer materials and don’t recall this method, so I put in a weight and start pumping out some reps. I notice a cute blonde girl in pink shorts on the treadmill. She’s going no less than 124 miles per hour on that thing and she looks happy about it. She’s sweating like crazy so she’s probably been there for hours. I immediately hate her. Okay, fine, that’s wrong. I respect and admire her. But, she’s not getting a mental high five from me. Nope. No way. It’s six freaking thirty in the morning!
I do a decent set on legs. Not stellar by any stretch, but definitely more productive than I was on the couch. Now, if you’re waiting for my “aha” moment where I walk out and see the sunrise and I’m all excited and stuff; it doesn’t happen. Not today. Not on day one. I did have a couple of minor successes, however. I did not punch the body builder looking dude in the throat who gave me a condescending eye roll when I went to the “big boy” weight area. (Seriously, why do guys do that?) I also did not laugh (out loud) at the lady wearing the garbage bag-like sweat suit from the early 90’s designed to make you sweat more. Oh, and I didn’t contact a divorce attorney. But, there’s always tomorrow.