Don’t think, just do.

This morning, my alarm went off at 5:30 am. I quickly disabled it, turned on the bedside lamp, and thought to myself, “I don’t want to get up. I really don’t have to get up. No, I don’t have to get up, I get to get up.” One big sigh, then a throwing of the covers and jumping out of bed. Don’t think, just do. Ten minutes of stretching—downward dog, pedaling out of the calves, hip rotations, child’s pose, hamstring stretches, back extensions. A splashing of water on the face, pulling my least favorite pair of leggings on and shrugging an old t-shirt over my shoulders—it’s still too dark for anyone to see me outside, anyways. I tighten my watch on my wrist, grab my headphones, slip on my shoes. Don’t think, just do. The music starts playing in my ears and I hop up and down on my toes 30 times, pull my knees into my chest, bend to touch my toes. 

The moon and stars are still out, the world quiet, my own feet indiscernible from the pavement. It’s disorienting but it’s okay, the sunrise is coming quickly. The GPS on my watch buzzes, “ready.” Don’t think, just do. I begin jogging and quickly shake off the stiffness, running faster and faster as I near the cliff that is my destination this morning. I feel fresher than I had expected to without any caffeine in my system yet today. I reach the point at the peak of blue hour. The beginning of the sunrise is visible to the left, shades of orange and yellow shedding light on the city in the distance and giving the ocean its first sparkle of the day. I veer off to the right, heading for the very edge of the cliff where it juts out over a small, rocky bay. Here, the ocean is still shrouded in darkness, the sun not yet having climbed above the mound of earth that separates this particular spot from the other half of the nature preserve. I pause my watch and stretch my arms high above my head, feeling the increase of blood flow down my spine and boost of oxygen to keep waking my body up. 

I remember coming here with Becca for sunrise, almost two years ago. Today I am here sweaty and alone, feeling content and alive but not relaxed. With Becca, we came bundled up in our pajamas with blankets and thermoses of coffee. We sat together on this point watching blue turn to pink and purple, just existing, relaxed and at peace, with the sole intention of resetting our minds and reveling in the beauty of creation before dawn. There was no one else there to impede our view that morning, and there’s no one else here today. The morning was ours that day, and it is mine today. 

Now there are streaks of yellow shooting across the sky; the sun’s rays stretching tall and wide like my own arms when I first jumped out of bed. I allow myself a few more moments to embrace the gentle crash of the waves, the chill of the salty air, and the backlit yellow flowers hanging over the edge of a rocky outcropping. But I’m not here to just relax today, it’s time to keep moving. Don’t think, just do. I pick up a jogging pace again and work back up to one that really gets my heart rate up, hitting a climax as I sprint up the final hill back to the house. I stop my watch. It is 6:47 am. I have won the morning—time to win the day. Don’t think, just do.