I wish I had stayed in bed

One of my least favorite parts of my day is when the alarm goes off at 6 AM. I'm warm and cozy under my electric blanket, my husband is fast asleep next to me, and my dog is snoring between us. This time of year, I wake up and know that our house will be dark and freezing, and that if I wanted to, I could easily sleep another hour, or brew a pot of coffee and curl up downstairs with a book next to the fire. I usually wake up an hour before my alarm, then 30 minutes, then 10, and contemplate all of the ways I can convince myself that I deserve to stay in bed. 

When then alarm finally buzzes, I rush to silence it before my husband wakes up and I get moving. The bathroom lights are glaring and I wish I had stayed in bed. I tiptoe downstairs in the dark, shivering, and I wish I had stayed in bed. I mix and choke down my powdered pre-workout, and I wish I had stayed in bed. I tiptoe back up stairs, flip on the lights of my workout room, look at the treadmill, and wish I had stayed in bed. 

I slip on my running shoes, pop my earbuds in, and choose a Pandora station with a beat, usually something I'd be embarrassed to listen to in public. Then I start an easy jog. 

In less than a minute, I'm no longer wishing I had stayed in bed. I have never finished a workout and thought it was a bad idea. Never. 

I'm on day three of overcoming my "stay in bed…" voice, after three months of hitting the snooze button every day and subsequently feeling terrible about myself. After three days of ignoring the "stay in bed.." demon, I feel better than I have in months. Running makes me happy and runner's high is for real.