Awake at 4:06am. No getting back to sleep today, I can tell. No sense in rolling over and keeping my eyes closed- only thoughts I cannot purge from my brain await me there. I am usually pretty sure when such attempts will be unsuccessful, but I often try anyway. I am now at the decision point. I wonder for a moment if the decision to get up is what makes the difference- but then I know that the decision to get up is not the cause, but rather the effect.
4:10. Quietly slip on my shorts; grab my running socks, bandana, and iPod; and slip out of the room. Guided by night lights to the kitchen for some juice, then to my place of solitude. Turn on one light, it is slightly cool. Dim… cool… good. It has always been one of my favorite things about this house- this separate place where I can exercise, with music at any volume, at any hour, and not disturb anyone. This place has served my needs for an off-hour escape well. Though I am less sure that these escapes have served me well.
Stretch. Shoes on. Music on. Treadmill on. Fan on. Six miles per hour for the first quarter mile. Then 6.6, then seven. I do this so often that I know my compulsory four miles will tick off in 34 minutes. Don’t look at the clock- look at the distance. Even though the music is loud it fades into the background of my brain. I barely hear it.
Literally running on anger and stress, combined with lack of sleep and lack of food, that I did for over a year- it changed my mind and my body. Both of which were apparent to others, and I had neither the energy or the desire to hide them. The strange thing is that in some ways I miss it. Miss some of the things it did to me. While I hate other things it did to me. Can I not pick and choose the best of both? If not, which one do I choose?