The outside world’s vision of me: pops out of bed at 4:00 a.m., bright eyed and bushy tailed, slams a quart of green smoothie, goes and knocks first workout of the day while singing Panama by Van Halen at the top of his lungs.
Real me: wakes up an hour before alarm. Thanks god he has an more hour of sleep, rolls over, realizes it’s all for naught, gets up, feeds dogs, makes coffee, watches Fail Army videos and tries to mentally negotiate whether he can just fit this workout into the rest of the day somehow, not so he can go back to sleep just to sit here in the quiet.
I’ve been actively training for triathlon for going on 20 years, and while some may wax poetic about getting up and going to a pool at 5 a.m. they are mostly doing it for show. It’s not that anyone loves it every day, but then I’m done and my brains are relaxed and my body feels that cozy fulfillment, not unsimilar to crawling in a warm bed, it’s worth it. It’s always worth it.
A bad workout always trumps no workout. It’s like free adderal and it sets up your day for success.
Sleep is important for your body to recover and I do get a lot of it but really, if we live until we are 80 we get 700,800 hours. You’re likely to sleep a third of that anyway so quit your bitching, set those alarms, get up early, and do something. A walk, yoga, meditate, run, a class, anything. I’ve never once regretted it after.