Eastern horizon over the Fort Meadow Reservoir…
When I woke up this morning, my girlfriend asked me, ‘Did you sleep good?’ I said, ‘No, I made a few mistakes.’
-Steven Wright
I am not now, have never been, nor is it likely that I will ever be, a morning person. My genetically determined biorhythms just aren’t built that way. Recent studies have shown that early risers have certain bits of Neanderthal DNA, bits I must not have. I’m a dyed in the wool night owl and can’t help it. The troglodytes among us might feel the urge to jump out of bed and catch the first rays of sunlight, but I’m more driven to stay up until after midnight to putter around, not because I can’t go to sleep, but because I’m not yet compelled to call it a day.
If push comes to shove, and there is a damn good reason for it, I can get up before dawn. I’ve forced myself out of bed many times when I had to – because of work or I needed to fly early in the day, for example. But I don’t like it. I find the trick is to get up right away, as soon as the alarm goes off, and not give in to the impulse to have that argument with myself, that has only one possible outcome, about whether or not I really want to get up. Once up, momentum can usually carry me on to do whatever it is that got me up.
Waldo isn’t much different. But, then, there is no possibility that any of his ancestors were Neanderthals. Yesterday, we tried to get up and failed. I got so far as to swing my legs to dangle over the edge of the bed. Waldo was startled by this and rose from his bed and left his crate. He gave me a what’s-going-on kinda look, decided I was most certainly nuts, turned around and went back to bed, plopping down with an audible thud. That was it for me. I swung back around and lay down, blaming our lack of success on the dog.
But this can’t continue. It’s too damned hot out there during most of the day, but not all day long. It’s coolest just before, to just after, the sun rises. After that short window of opportunity, it’s just too sweltering to be out walking six miles. So, today, at 4 Am, when the alarm went off, I swung my legs over the edge of the bed and pulled on a pair of socks. Waldo raised his head, looked at me and, once he saw the socks, knew this was the real deal. He ever so slowly rose and slunk to the bedroom door where he lay down waited for me. Once I stood, my biological juices were flowing well enough that all systems were in the green and I was good to go. Shortly thereafter, I was dressed and we were out the door.
It was dark as we started out. Not black as the dark side of the moon, but dim enough that it was hard to see without artificial sources of light. The sky above us was a uniform dark turquoise from the pending dawn, but down on the ground, everything was in various pale shades of gray. The local birds and squirrels were quiet and not yet stirring to begin their day. The temperature was 72℉, as it would remain throughout our walk, but man, it was humid. Within a half-mile the exposed parts of my skin were covered in a thick sheen of sweat and my shirt was soaked with the stuff. Waldo’s tongue was dangling from his jaws and whipping about as he panted down the trail.
To watch him go, you’d think Waldo had a full night of sleep, instead of only four hours. That’s how he’s built. It’s either full speed ahead, or crash and burn (but not for long). I’m doing well too, as, from prior experience, I knew I would be. Drowsiness still lingered at the edges of my awareness, but I didn’t need to exert any effort to keep it there. My body, old as it is, was plugging along without complaint, functioning as it was designed to. No creaks or grinds, rattles or thuds.
When we passed the Fort Meadow Reservoir and the new park (whose lawn is now green with grass), there was a pastel peach-colored sky off to the east just above the horizon. A few minutes later, as we continued on, the sun was fully up, but still low in the sky and blissfully hidden behind the trees that line the trail. Long early morning shadows were cast across our path that remained for the rest of our trek. When we finished, it was 7 AM and the day was just beginning.
You know, I think I like an early morning walk better that than going after sunset. The colors of first light are golden, compared to the oranges of last light. Mother Nature is just waking, and doing so with a growing, cheerful lilt, instead of settling in with a slowly softening quiet. But it is easier to get to the trail at night than it is before the sun comes up.
Once again at home, Waldo sucked down a bowl full of water, then fell onto his side and lay there, recuperating. I got my own tall glass of refrigerator-cooled water and retired to my recliner. A long, well-earned and welcome nap was now in order.
When indulged in, delayed gratification can be sweet.
… On the trail 40 minutes later.