It started slowly. Insidiously really. One day I was skipping class sleeping in spending time wondering if perhaps only one person really existed in the world and the rest were extras in a an other worldly double feature movie created by a bored omnipotent being and the next I was waking up at 5am on a regular basis trudging through a two hour commute to make $14 an hour plus benefits. Sure every once in a while there were small reprieves. A concert one night, a session of binge drinking another night, staying up all night to read Harry Potter and Deathly Hollows. Little by little though I started paying bills on time, vegetables that were not on top of delicious meat patties where being introduced into to my diet, and I leaned how to use the word Kafkaesque appropriately.
Luckily my commute to work is no longer two hours long but still I'm waking up at 5am. Why? To do what I swore would never be worth getting out of bed a few short hours after I fell asleep for: exercise. More precisely swimming. Well it's really more like determined flailing, or NOT drowning.
Four times a week I wake to my cell phone's alarm ringing to the tune of A-Ha's Take on Me. Getting out of bed is hastened by the usual morning need to pee. While on the toilet I convince myself that I'll go to bed early tonight so this won't be as horrible the next day. I never do and it always is.
By quarter to six I've encased my jiggly self in to a bit of Lycra and am racing the senior citizen, who doesn't know we're racing, in the lane next to mine. I don't count the number of laps as that may lead to disappointment. Instead I measure success in the decreasing number of ragged gasping breathes I have to take between laps. After three weeks it's down to eight, yay for me!
So here I am on that shining razor edge between what was and what will be. I still refuse to go to bed before midnight, I laugh hysterically when Matt makes our teddy bears dance, sometimes when I go to the supermarket for ketchup I come back with pie and chips. But still I can't seem to escape the looming world of adult hood with it's soothing yet confining regularities.
I still remember how to get there, Neverland, right at the second star straight until dawn. That second star it's not as bright as it used to be and getting hard to see.
1 comment:
Hey, just have to cheer you on in your efforts. I can totally relate to "decreasing numbers of ragged breaths" - Cynthia could tell you how often we have to pause on the hiking trails for me to pretend like I'm not tired (ha!) - but you deserve extra credit for swimming: it's a much more complete workout compared to my bicycling or hiking, plus it won't impact your knees or anything. Also, after a couple months of that you're going to really feel the difference - you'll feel better! I can tell when I've fallen off the exercise wagon - I don't even sleep as well. Hang in there - it's really hard at first and such a drag but...it is worth it. Go you!!
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