I crawled out of bed at half past five on Tuesday morning and stumbled downstairs to snag my running shoes. That’s when I heard the light rain. Fifty percent chance of rain, they said, and it appeared that the morning glass would be half empty.
And it was really dark. Daylight Savings Time makes for great evenings, but for now it guarantees that my morning run occurs in the dark from start to finish with no hint of the glorious Malibu sunrise. No sympathy from most of the world, but I felt sorry for myself anyway.
And I didn’t sleep very well the night before, as if I needed more reason to consider whether running was a good idea. And I forgot to charge my phone, which I took as a bad sign, too.
But I laced up, drove to my typical parking spot, and took off on foot down the Pacific Coast Highway in the morning darkness.
There is no glorious ending to this story, nor should you expect a tale of woe. Instead, I noticed more than usual the heavy traffic at six in the morning and suspected that few of the travelers were overly excited by their morning commute. I ran by a homeless individual sleeping on a bus stop bench, covered with a tarp and two strategically-placed umbrellas for protection from the morning rain. Construction crews were starting their days. I heard the ocean waves but could only see darkness.
It was just another day as I ran along, listening to my breathing pattern, feeling my heart beat, watching my steps, and participating in the world. It was a good run, but nothing special.
I took a random picture of the dark trees in the parking lot and shared it on social media along with the stats of my run and added the commentary: “50% chance of rain. 100% chance of running.” Which wasn’t even true. But it is my aspiration, and on that particular day, it was my reality.
Some days do not arrive with great promise. Some days actually campaign to keep you down. Get up, and hit the ground running on those days in particular.