J (my husband) has always been the one that leaps out of bed in the morning and goes running. I hate running in the morning, so I’ve always emerged from bed later, often just as he’s getting back from his run, and I’ve always run in the evening. This unwillingness to get up early was exacerbated with each of our 3 kids. Years of broken nights left me constantly thinking about whether I would ever get a decent (full) night of sleep again. When our youngest started to reliably sleep through, there was no way I was going to get out of bed before I was forced to (either by work or by the kids). I’ve written before about having to run in the morning since I re-started this time, and how it’s actually beginning to grow on me as a “thing”. But today was another first! I ran on my own, in the morning, and without having planned to do so. I’ve been waking up quite reliably at about 6am for the past few weeks. Sometimes, I just lie there for a while, and get up when one of the kids comes in. Sometimes, I manage to go back to sleep again. But sometimes, I get out of bed and do a bit of yoga, or potter around, or I go out for a run that I’ve planned. So today, I got up, and went out for a run. I hadn’t planned to run, I didn’t “need” to run, but I wanted to run. So I ran! I felt excited as I crept out of the front door. I found my latest playlist that I’d made and headed out. I felt no pressure to do a certain amount or a certain pace, because I hadn’t expected to run, and I had no plan in my head. It felt joyful. I followed the pace of the songs, which kept me running at a decent pace. Sometimes, the songs were just a bit too fast, so I ran fast enough to keep up with them through the chorus, but then eased off for the verses. I played with my pace. I stopped if I wanted to. I just ran for the hell of it. I’ll definitely do more of this.