I have never been a morning person. I don’t understand morning people. I’m not sure I even trust morning people. I don’t think the day should start until 11:30 am. Before that time, my level of motor function is akin to those beetles that get flipped upside down and flop around helplessly unless someone pushes them back over. And my cognitive state is such that it feels like everyone is speaking to me in Portuguese. I don’t speak Portuguese. As a result, I am usually an insufferably irritable asshole until sometime in the early afternoon when sufficient caffeine and calories have been absorbed to transform me into a productive member of society. Still an asshole though, more often than not. It’s kind of my jam.
Despite 36 years of this behavior pattern today, for the third time in a week, I woke up and ran before work. Now, because of the contempt I have for my place of employment and the incredible job security I have since my two would-be replacements quit, I rarely show up before 10 am anyway, so this is a somewhat low bar. But even still, I am usually grunting at the coffee pot in my underwear until 8:45 most days, so the fact that I’ve been knocking out 6 and 8 milers by then is something of a miracle.
I’ve honestly tried to become a morning runner roughly 47,316 times before, but it’s never stuck. I can usually slog through some morning runs when I have to travel for work or when it is absolutely imperative to keep up with a training plan, but it’s usually with the same enthusiasm one would reserve for a root canal performed by a proctologist not wearing gloves. And believe me, I’ve tried the “oh just lay your clothes out the night before to save time” or “program your automatic coffee pot before you go to bed” but all that ever results in is me trying to drink coffee out of a sock at 5:30 in the morning.
[Insert seeming non-sequitur which will be used to tie things up in the end here] There’s a medical condition called foreign accent syndrome. Basically, some people who’ve experienced a head injury or trauma or a stroke suddenly sound like they’re speaking with a foreign to them accent. So, someone in Alabama trips and hits their head and suddenly sounds like the Queen of England. Or a person has a stroke in Beijing and then sounds like the McKenzie Brothers. There are even unconfirmed cases of people actually speaking another language after a trauma, which would be fascinating and horrifying if true.
When I bounced out of bed last Friday at 6 am and with no prior planning just decided to do my easy 8 before work, The Wife thought I just didn’t sleep well. I concurred. When I got up at 6 am on Tuesday, my off day, and cheerfully had breakfast with her before she ran she thought I was buttering her up for Valentine’s Day. When I got up Wednesday and ran 8 with her, she was convinced of it. But it wasn’t until I woke HER up to run 6 this morning that she asked if everything was OK. The foreign accent thing popped into my head, so I asked her if one side of my face was drooping. This did not allay her concern, but she also didn’t say it was, so I’m taking that as a no. And after a week of this, I have to say, it is SO nice coming home from work and opening a beer instead of my running drawer. And I’m so much more productive at work, it’s like someone added 4 more hours to the day. So for now I’m just going to, well, run with it. I told The Wife not to worry, that I was fine as long as I didn’t start speaking in Portuguese. The way she looked at me made me wonder if there wasn’t a head injury after all...