Up at 6 AM.... again

Well, here's some 6 AM thoughts.

I am going to try and get to the YMCA today, no matter what. This is my goal. I need to exercise, I need to work these sore, complaining muscles. The difficulty is managing to say "yeah, the sink is full of dirty dishes, the house is a mess, the laundry needs folding, but I need to get outside and see people more than I need to spend time cleaning." Cleaning is a treadmill anyway, you never manage to get where you're going, you just keep running.

Here goes. I'm going to try and get back to sleep with a minimum of muscle pain. Ron sometimes says, "if you're in pain during the night, wake me up, and I'll massage you so you can get to sleep." But I hate to wake him up. It seems so mean. Frankly, if I was the well person and someone woke me up I wouldn't be too happy about it.

But then again, it's been so many years since I have been "well," I don't really remember what it was like. I have vague memories that seem incredible to me, kind of like how Superman would feel if he lost his powers and was looking back on what he used to be able to do 10 years ago. "No kidding? You mean I really could fly?! Huh."

The stuff I used to be able to do (run a mile in gym class, go up the stairs without pain, move furniture, even bend over to pick stuff up from the floor) seems like... it was a part of a different me, in a different lifetime.