I believe I wrote a blog a while back about how much I LOVE the morning time. I used to love getting to wake up, eating my breakfast, sip on some deliciously French vanilla flavored coffee, and watch the boob tube (hm… maybe I should rephrase that. Language is so powerful and most of the time negative sayings are demeaning to women…i.e. “wifebeater” instead of undershirt, :motherfucker” instead of “fatherfucker” etc. I wonder where that saying even came from?) Anyway, point being that the highlight of my morning was enjoying breakfast, coffee, and TV then I would head out for my run in beautiful La Crosse where I knew the streets like the back of my hand. Of course, that is not to say that some times I did not want to get out the door because a 12 miler seemed like 18 as I would run back and forth between the city streets. I always got the job done and was happy at the end of the day, ready to start again the next day.
Well, a lot has changed since those mornings. I miss my second floor room with two windows and my bed. Yes, I no longer have a bed thanks to a little brother who kindly power washed the deck before a huge downpour (you may have heard of the flooding in Milwaukee). Well anyways, it seeped down into my room in the basement, which means no bedroom for me. Although my current location has several more running routes than La Crosse, I am finding it much harder to like the morning. I’m actually preferring the night time, where at about 8 o’clock I am ready to hit the hay, forget about the day and free myself from analyzing everything under the sun regarding my life. I’ve never liked sleeping so much. Unfortunately, I realize that although I get those beautiful