An hour and a half earlier than yesterday's eerie awakening, the alarm went off this morning so the Enthusiast could watch the royal wedding. My cell phone alarm was still set, and I rolled over to grab a few more REMs.
While all the British hoopla -- brilliant! -- was blaring from our TV, I slinked out of bed and stumblebummed to the back room where I keep my running gear. The temperature was in the low 40s: now, that's royal ... a royal pain in the ass. My wool hat and windbreaker kept me warm enough as I tiptoed through the three-mile trot.
When I returned, the prince and new princess were married, and glad we are about all of that. However, the true triumph of the morning was another successful run before work, keeping my evening available for more proper revelry.
Wherein you can't teach an old dog (30 is the new 21!) new tricks.
Koko ... er, I mean ... T-Bone thinks this morning grouch needs an attitude adjustment: "Morning runs are painful, in the sense that leaving a nice warm bed never seems like a good idea before 6 a.m. I think once you find yourself making it a habit, you'll attitude will change."
Answer: Unfortunately, my morning grouchiness is a hereditary condition. My father has been a morning runner for the past 38 years and remains hostile before 9 a.m. My mother is an early riser with a perpetual glare. I used to get up at 4 a.m. for ice hockey practice in high school, but that did nothing to improve my morning demeanor. Getting up early is doable, but playing nice while doing so is out.
Happy Hour is nearly upon us, teammates. Have a finely brewed weekend. Run well and drink well. Cheers!