Lately I have been saving my workout for after work, getting up a little later every day, pulling on the same comfy pants and putting my hair in a ponytail. My former life had been feeling farther and farther away – the days when I would rise at 5:00 and head to the gym. I’d run three miles on the treadmill and row 3,000 meters on the rower. After a quick stretch, I’d race home, jump in the shower, wake the kids, make the smoothies, and pack a lunch before heading out the door around 7:10.
When looking back at my morning routine, pre-COVID, my first reaction was to kind of marvel that I got all that done and was able to be on time for work for so many years. Then, I just started to feel sad and longed for that rush of purpose. So, for the past two days, I’ve risen at 5:30, donned my running clothes, and headed out before dawn, sticking to well-lit and open areas. I see dog walkers and fellow runners, construction workers getting their machines going, and the early risers walking to the Pentagon and various bus stops. As the first streaks of orange and pink appeared on the horizon, I was heading in my front door. The house was still quiet, and my first cup of coffee tasted a little bit better than usual.
My Corner of the Village 