This Thing Called Sunrise

Last night this night owl just needed to find the sack early. The reasons were unclear. It might have been that Dena had filled my stomach with a tasty late-night pizza. Or that, throughout a day of little eating, I'd spent more time in the sun than usual, capped off by a late-afternoon run in the sun, followed by a tutoring session. At any rate, within 15 minutes of dinner I was zonked on the couch. At some point I groggily stumbled up to bed to continue the snooze.

This morning I stirred to the usual scene of my cat mewing on my chest at 5:30am. But this time I actually found my eyes staying open.

I was confused by a strange red glow in the sky, which Dena explained to me as the phenomenon of "sunrise."

It felt almost inhuman to shave at 6:00am. I didn't even do that when I was working full-time. But now I had this channel of energy and a surprising desire to be productive.

Cupcake was dancing around so I did some run-and-chase play with her up and down the stairs and all around the furniture.

Against all odds I left the condominium and went to the gym. It was infested with other people who had undoubtedly also been woken up by their cat. As I settled in to do some dumbbell lifts I made eye contact with the sweaty bulgy-biceped guy on the bench next to mine. "Cat, huh?" I smiled with a knowing nod. Too embarrassed of the truth, he pretended that I was crazy, shifting to a bench further away while chugging what looked to be a gallon of green sludge.

Soon I was on the way home, as the sun had yet to pop up from behind the buildings framing the road. I was aghast to see some roads blocked off by police and camouflaged persons and their construction cones, looking menacing as an incredibly long trail of athletically-clad prisoners jogged past them. A sign proclaimed that some charitable half-marathon was going on, and some lackeys went so far as to be dressed in "volunteer" shirts with smiles pasted on their faces and kegs of Gatorade at their side. But I was sure that this was nothing less than a 21st century death march; no free man would willingly run for 13 miles before Applebee's opens. But there was no time for tears, I was on a roll.

So here I sit, a sunny day emerging above me, well-exercised like my cat, blogging well under way... ready to... (yawn)... um... take a nap.