Pre-Dawn Running

I wake up every weekday morning at 5:30 a.m.  I then energetically reset my alarm for 5:45 a.m. while muttering mainly unintelligible words.  Usually, "hell" and "damn" make an appearance, as they are staples of my pre-dawn vocabulary.  What feels like two seconds later, 5:45 a.m. arrives and I shuffle from my bed to the bathroom to begin my transformation from disheveled, sleepy mama to disheveled bad-ass runner.  Two necessary components: my favorite capris, and two sports bras (my post-nursing "girls" are about as sexy as it gets; think empty oven mitts).  I strap on my trusty Garmin Forerunner 305 (think 90's-era cell phone), my Brooks trail running kicks and head out the door.  

Now comes my least favorite part of my workout: a five-minute warm-up walk through what I affectionately call the Avenue of Rape/Murder.  Since we live in Thurston County, but not in any of the cities within Thurston County, street lights are few and far between.  I spend this walk in the DARK looking much like Bambi's mother when she first gets to the meadow.  I try to appear both alert and intimidating so that any enterprising perverts won't view me as a worthy target.  Invariably, I have the same discussion with myself:

Me: Would any would-be rapists/murderers really bother hanging out in the usually wet bushes and trees lining this stretch of road at 6 a.m.?  

Still Me: Probably not...but what if they've noticed the regularity of my runs and have decided that I am an easy target?  

More Me: You're being over-dramatic.  Again.  But perhaps you should take advantage of this time to try and make yourself right with God.  

So far, I have survived every walk.  It probably helps my body warm up faster, anyway, since my heart rate is certainly elevated.

Sidenote: Tyler wishes I would run with protection, like mace, or preferably, a gun.  Maybe he's right.  But I hate the idea of holding/wearing anything more.  And honestly, I'm convinced that I'd probably just accidentally mace or shoot myself.  Let's hope these are not famous last-ish words.  I do wear a bright light that attaches to the back of my shoe, however, and a Saucony jacket that has light-up strips on the back and front, as well as reflective stripes.  I figure I'm more likely to be hit by a car than attacked by an early-rising pervert.

Pre-run this morning (I'm not sure what I'm doing with my right hand).  I really do love this Saucony jacket.  It is water repellent (essential for running in the Pacific NW) and blocks the wind wonderfully.  It's a bit pricey, but well worth it, I think!  

Then my run begins!  This morning, I ran 4 miles at an average pace of 10:05/mile.  And I had to really push myself to achieve those splits.  See?  I am a tortoise.  

Almost all of my runs take me over a narrow bridge that has no shoulder or sidewalk (if I run in the other direction, there are even fewer street lights).  I have to run where the cars drive for about 50 yards.  Once I make it past the Bridge of Probable Death, though, I cross into Tumwater (about a mile from my house) and there are street lights and a sidewalk!  [Sigh of relief]

At this point, you may be wondering what the hell is wrong with me that I choose to do this at least two mornings a week (the other days I cross-train at home and my Saturday run usually starts at a less-dangerous hour).  I don't know that I have an especially eloquent answer.  All I know for sure is that I NEED to run.  I like nourishing this part of who I am.  I like who I am when I run regularly.  So does my family, I'm pretty sure.  Speaking of them, I have to brag about how supportive my husband is of my running addiction.  I run in the mornings because I have an 11-month-old baby girl (besides my 11-year-old and 8-year-old daughters) and my runs only get to happen when Tyler is home.  This means that while I am trying to survive my runs, he is cleaning a little bum and filling a little belly.  I generally get back after he has showered and I shower while he makes breakfast for our big girls and makes their sandwiches for their lunches.  I am a lucky woman.  I'm convinced that he is motivated at least in part by self-preservation, however.  He knows that I am much nicer to live with when I regularly run.

Besides the danger, real and imagined, of my pre-dawn runs, they are also beautiful.  I regularly run under a sky filled with stars.  By the end of my runs, the sky is lightening and turning the whole world a smoky gray with silver and gold streaks.  And by the time I return to the Avenue of Rape/Murder, it has transformed into the much more welcoming Avenue of Minor Assault/Maiming.  I get to return to my cozy home having already accomplished something significant.  For a few miles, I was only Jess.  I wasn't Mama or someone that anyone needed but myself.  And that's worth more than the sleep I miss.