My thought process during mornings when I’ve decided to fit in a run before work:
I’m getting out of bed. I’m getting out of bed. I’m getting out of bed.
Fifteen minutes later, the second alarm that I cleverly set the night before goes off, and I leap out of bed.
Is it cold out? It looks cold out. But I’m running, I don’t want to be too hot. Ok, I’ll wear shorts. Where are my shorts? Why don’t I have any clean clothes? Oh, that’s right I forgot to do laundry last weekend. Well, these don’t seem to smell too bad.
Good job me! I should probably take a quick power nap now that I’m dressed.
NO! Jenny go outside and start running!
I miraculously find my keys and make it out the door.
Ugh. I feel so gross. I’m so dehydrated. My legs are so heavy. I should just go home and run tonight.
Then suddenly God surprises me with this:
And then I remember how sweet it is that I have the means and ability to go for morning runs.