The sun is just coming up. There is frost on the ground, on the car, glinting in the pink early morning light. The Boy has roused me from slumber so that I can go to the gym before work. To stay in bed is tempting - under the covers is so warm, so cozy - but I know that I will regret not getting moving.
I pull on my gym clothes, thick socks, lace up my gym shoes. A piece of toast gets smeared with almond butter and munched while I assemble lunch for The Boy to take to work and contemplate what I will pack for the day. I'm itching to get to the gym, to get moving on an elliptical or to lift weights. The bed's siren cry is long since forgotten - I am ready to exercise.
The Boy comes downstairs, puts his lunch in his backpack, pets the cats good-bye. We walk out to our cars together, letting the defroster start working on the frosted windows while we hug good-bye in the chill morning air. The sun is mostly up by now. I can see our breath as we talk. We slip into the seats of our cars and head out, going in different directions: he to work, myself to the gym, where I can't wait to be.
Once there, I push myself through my workout, challenging myself on an elliptical, pushing myself to lift heavier weights. I want to be strong and to stay strong, to move quickly without becoming breathless. When I finish I am covered in sweat and wide awake, guzzling water as I walk back out to the car, the sun now bright in my eyes. I make my way toward home for more breakfast and to shower before I, too, head to work. Exercise completed, body fueled, I am now ready to take on the day.
