One drawback to getting up at dark thirty to go work out is that, well, it’s dark. There are many other drawbacks, but that’s the one that is upper most in my head. For now.
I set my alarm for 4:30 am on the days I work out. I can hardly type that without shuddering myself. And calling myself insane. Anyhoo. The other night, Jensen woke me up at about 3 am. He’s much better about sleeping through the night, but sometimes, for old times sake, he summons me to his room. Because I’m awfully entertaining at that hour. I settled him back down by 4 am, and decided just to stay up. And drink 16 cups of coffee.
In case some of you notice that I lurk and comment on your blogs in the middle of the night, that’s why.
I leave for the gym at 5, to meet up with my compadres by 5:15. As I was walking down the hall to leave, this is what I saw in the hall.
We don’t own a cat. This is one of those lifelike robot type cats that look at you as though they are possessed. They meow, move their head in your direction, and even hiss.
I almost lost 4 pounds right there on the carpet.
Because that cat was NOT there earlier when I left Jensen’s bedroom. I found out later that morning that Cailey moved it to the hall in the wee hours because she woke up and it was looking at her. I make a mental note to move it to the middle of the street and let it take it’s chances out in the wild.
So, I quickly left the house. Taking great care to avoid the plague of frogs waiting for me on our front porch. Frogs that are ready to spring into my hair if I’m too slow. Which would be really unfortunate for the sleeping neighbors.
I climb into Fiddledaddy’s Prius, which I’ve dubbed the “sports car.” Because to me, anything without sliding doors, a fold down third seat, and petrified french fries embedded in the floor mats is a sports vehicle. I crank up the music THAT I WANT TO LISTEN TO. It may be country, or old time rock-n-roll, depending on my mood. On this particular morning, it was gospel. In my vain attempt to make up for the curse words I muttered when the cat scared me.
The workout studio that we go to is only about 10 minutes from my house. But it’s down a very dark and desolate street. Trish has the keys, so we all try to synchronize our watches, to arrive at about the same time. I pulled into the parking lot, the first to arrive. As I turned in, I noticed a strange car pull out from the back of the building. No good ever goes on at the back of the building. The car followed me and parked in the spots adjacent to where we all park. I lit out of there like a cat on fire. I figured I’d head back to the Dunkin’ Donuts that I pass on my way there. The same Dunkin’ Donuts where I’m quite sure a murder has been committed every time I pass in the dark, judging from the large police presence.
I called Trish’ cell phone. I could see her van at the light, preparing to turn.
“Trish, there’s a strange car parked at the studio. His lights are on, and he looks like a shady character. I’ll follow you in and be your backup.”
Because I’m brave like that. And besides, her van is much bigger than my little sports car.
So, I pull in behind her. Like a scared little girl. We proceed slowly. And park in our usual spots. The car moves beside us. And stops. The driver gets out. For the second time that morning I nearly wet myself.
“KATIE. I thought you were a masher. Or worse.”
“What’s a masher?”
It was our 24 year old niece. She had never come before. We had no idea she would be there. I didn’t recognize her car at that hour. She had gone behind the building, because when she showed up and no one was there, she thought we parked in the back.
After the workout, I drove home at 6:15. In the dark. Passing the Dunkin’ Donuts. Without stopping in. The police presence was still strong. Giving me little comfort.
I arrive back home, avoiding the frogs, who haven’t moved in my absence. I tiptoe down the hall, stepping over the creepy cat. Nudging it slightly with my sneaker. I shower, make more coffee, and prepare to face the children as they awaken.
Now, that really ought to scare the stuffing out of me.
Because of all the caffeine I consume, and the danger that lurks around every corner, my heart rate stays up most of the day. So, really, it’s like getting many mini-workouts in, after the big one in the morning.
So, why do I still resemble a sausage?