During a moment of wakefulness in the night, I could hear the wind and the rain lashing against the windows. Falling back into a deep sleep, the alarm sounding a shock to the system. Dark outside, still raining. My bedroom, cold. The bed, warm and snug. It is disgustingly early. And I do not, really, really do not, want to go to the gym.
Easy to hit the snooze button. To pull the covers back up and hide amongst the warmth. To ignore those gym clothes, laid out ready the night before. I am tired. The urge to just take the day off is overwhelming.
But somehow, I don’t. When I step outside, the cold morning takes my breath away. The cold car is unwelcoming. Even the gym when I arrive, lately bursting with January joiners full of new year resolution fervour, is almost empty.
For a moment, I wonder. Why do I do this? And then I remember.
Because every workout counts. Because I didn’t like myself all that much when I didn’t do this.
And because these are the mornings that define you. When you push yourself to do what you don’t want to, when you push yourself to do what others will not.
Because this is what will make all the difference.