Running in the Dark

I am not a morning person. I have never been a morning person. For most of my life my alarm was set to the latest possible minute that still allowed me to shower and get out the door without being completely unacceptable.

But last October I started running at five in the morning and I have not stopped.

How It Started

Insomnia. I was waking up at four thirty anyway, lying in bed scrolling my phone for an hour, then dragging myself through the day feeling like garbage. One morning I just put on shoes and walked out the door. The walk turned into a jog. The jog turned into a loop around the neighborhood. I came back twenty minutes later feeling more awake than I had in months.

The next morning I did it again. And then again.

The Dark Is the Point

Running before sunrise is a completely different experience than running during the day. The streets are empty. The air is cooler. There are no cars, no people, no noise. Just you and your breathing and the sound of your feet.

There is something about moving through a sleeping neighborhood that makes your brain quiet down. All the things I would normally be anxious about just do not come up. The world feels smaller and more manageable at five in the morning.

In the winter it is fully dark. I wear a headlamp and a reflective vest and I look ridiculous. I do not care. The darkness is a feature, not a bug. It strips away all the self-consciousness of running in public. Nobody is watching. Nobody cares. You are just a weird bouncing light moving down the street.

The Routine

Wake up at four fifty. Do not think. Shoes on, out the door within five minutes. If I give myself time to think about it I will talk myself out of it every single time.

I run three miles on weekdays and five on weekends. Nothing heroic. I am slow. My pace would embarrass a serious runner. That does not matter. I am not training for anything. I am just moving.

When I get back I stretch for five minutes, shower, make coffee, and sit quietly for a bit before the day starts. By seven in the morning I have already done the hardest thing I will do all day. Everything after that feels easier.

What Changed

Sleep, ironically. The insomnia that started this whole thing went away within two weeks. My body was tired enough by ten at night that I was falling asleep without effort.

My energy during the day is more consistent. I do not hit that two in the afternoon wall as hard. My mood is better. I am less irritable. I am more patient with my kids.

I also just think better. Some of my best ideas for work have come during those quiet dark miles. Something about the rhythmic repetitive motion unlocks a part of my brain that stays sealed shut when I am sitting at a desk.

The Hard Part

Getting out of bed. That is it. That is the whole challenge. The run itself is fine. It is always fine. I have never once come back from a run and regretted going. But the moment the alarm goes off, every single morning, my brain tries to convince me to stay in bed.

I have learned to just not negotiate with that voice. Feet on the floor, shoes on, door open. Autopilot until I am a quarter mile in, and then I am fine.

It is not willpower. It is just a habit that has not worn out yet. I hope it does not.