Dear alarm clock,
I’m worried about you. Every morning, you display the same dogged determination in trying to get me up and out of bed before 6:30 a.m. I’m concerned you might be delusional or suffering from memory loss. I’ve tried everything I can think of and while I’m not proud of the times that I physically and/or verbally assaulted you, I can honestly say that my aggravation stems from a serious concern about your mental well-being.
Over the span of our 15-year relationship, you have never given up on me. I appreciate this, but now I wish you would really just let it go and accept me for who I am: an afternoon runner.
I know that I’m partly to blame for your neurotic obsession with getting me up and running by 6:30 a.m. I always made sure to be in bed by 10:00 p.m., I set out my running shoes and clothes the night before, I arranged to meet fellow runners, and then I told you to please make sure I was out of bed by 6:00 a.m…6:27 at the latest.
As you are no doubt aware, I am fully capable of getting (mostly) into my running clothes and out the door within three minutes. By the time I am awake enough to notice that my sports bra is on inside out or that I forgot my shorts, I’m too oxygen-deprived and exhausted to care.
All of that aside, I’ve come to terms with the fact that I will never be a morning runner, and now I think it’s time for you to accept it too. We both know I’ve tried. I suffered the early morning cold, fumbling for my keys while trying not to wake my roommate, slipping my feet into stiff, cold running shoes and then trying to coax my grumbling muscles that, like it or not, we’re up, we’re here, we’re running. And then the, oh no we’re not actually running because said muscles are angry and stiff and so instead of leaping down the trail like a gazelle, I’m lumbering awkwardly down the path like an overweight Dachshund with three legs. I apologize to overweight Dachshunds everywhere, but let’s face it, you’re awkward.
I repeatedly endured the chipper, perky, bouncy morning runners who have clearly consumed about five cups too many of some highly caffeinated substance and spend every morning run taking advantage of my pre-dawn confusion to talk about how much they love everything and how lucky we are to be alive. These are not things I disagree with, but I prefer to discuss them no earlier than 10:00 a.m.
Alarm clock, the reason that I have kept both of us going under this delusional dream is the fact that running in the morning is supposed to make me feel great and energized during the rest of the day. Usually I just feel annoyed that I left my bed an hour earlier than I needed to. I keep waiting for myself to become habituated to running in the morning so that I, too, can eagerly leap out of bed like a gazelle being chased by a lion.
But since it didn’t happen yesterday, it didn’t happen today, and it’s probably not going to happen tomorrow either, I think it’s time to throw in the towel.
I’m an afternoon runner. I have absolutely no self-discipline, am incapable of getting out of bed before 7:00 a.m., and prefer not to talk to anyone until I’ve gotten over my initial irritation on being out of bed in the first place. I’m not any more ashamed of this than you are of the fact that you’re an out-dated relic from the ’80’s. And since, I’ve accepted your beige, bland, rectangular body with the red numbers against the black background, I think you can extend me the same courtesy of acceptance.
So the next time I ask you for a 6:00 a.m. wake-up call, would you please have the courtesy to either smack me in the face or reset your alarm to a more reasonable hour.
Thanks, little buddy.