I do it every night. Not because it affects my night, but because it affects my next morning. (I hope I’m using affect & effect right. If not, KBird will undoubtedly correct me.) Oh, I forget sometimes, or I just can’t manage to make myself spend that 90 seconds late on a Saturday night occassionally, but I sure want to do it every day.
Actual photo of me in the am. Plus, Goofy is the bomb diggity.
I set my coffee maker. Clean it out from that day, prep it for the next morning’s brew, and put the timer on. When I know that coffee is ready and waiting for me when I wake up, I am exactly 78% more likely to not mind getting out of bed. It’s scientific fact.
I’ve written a few times (for you, it probably feels ad naseum, for me, it feels like it’s barely been brought up) about my running. When I don’t get my daily run in, my wife doesn’t really want me around. I’m sort of wacky-hyper-abrasive-irritated. I’ve got all that pent-up energy – I haven’t worked through things how I do every since day – I haven’t pushed myself to exhaustion – I haven’t stimulated myself. Read More
We’ve all heard the cliches about hard work. You get out of something what you put into it. Pray like it all depends on God, work like it all depends on you. Hard work equals success. Talent only gets you so far. Luck is the residue of design. Let me know of others – I’m sure there’s lots more out there.
Yes, this is more about my running. But more than about my running. When I run, I am praying. Every morning, within my first few steps, I am giving God that run, that morning, that day… my life.
The view at my 10-mile race last Saturday (from Checkers AC pictures of the race)
Yesterday, I took an easy jog. Today, I took a just as easy jog. Tomorrow, I race. I love running. I love running hard. I generally am bored with the easy jog days, but I can’t run hard every day. Racing? I love it. And I hate it. It’s all I’ve been thinking about today, to be honest.
This video illustrates conversations I have about once each day:
I am a runner. Long ago, that statement meant something to me. I had what I look back upon now as “a lost decade” of running. It wasn’t lost in all areas – I grew tremendously in my faith, we had 4 awesome daughters, I had the privilege of witnessing countless teens grow in their faith, and I was married to the Wifey of the Universe the entire time. So it was a great decade – just not for running.
A few years ago, I refound this important part of myself. And people shake their heads at me. They think me crazy. The don’t get it. They think it’s about exercise. Or that we’re just dumb. And then I hear all the jokes. (Some of which are included in the video above.)