I used to be allergic to waking up early in the morning. It made me break out in sobriety. I must have been drunk when I decided to start doing it, because it was clearly a Rock-Bottom-New-Year’s Resolution level of desperation and arrogance that fueled my first day.
The local college usually had the gate to their outdoor track wide open for everyone to use. But it was too early, so I had to run around the campus instead. That was worrying, because it meant people could SEE me being pathetic. And I much prefer being pathetic in private. It was precisely 27 degrees outside, and the wind was blowing just precisely enough to cut through my many layers of clothing and cause my balls to disappear completely into my abdomen.
I moved along the ice-covered sidewalks as slowly as I could to keep from falling on my ass. I felt like I was running, but to anyone else, I looked like I was walking. I winced, and gritted my chittering teeth, and contemplated the inevitability of my suffering. I had the nerve to sweat, and so the world grew colder.
I felt all alone out there as people drove by on their way to places that they HAD to be, shaking their heads at how stupid someone was to WANT to be there. They were wrong though. I didn’t want to be there either, not really. My body screamed at me to go back home, crawl into bed, and take the day off. It tells me the same exact thing every day to this day, and I doubt it will ever stop.
I think waking up early to work on yourself is one of those things most people feel like they should be doing but don’t because of how badly it sucks. The only times I’ve felt as terrible as when I now wake up at 5AM to exercise are the times I used to stay up until 5AM to binge drink. But I was never alone when I was drinking. I could always look over and see someone else happily ruining their life right along with me. It was a bond that could only be adequately expressed by bumping our drinks together with a satisfying clink.
But when you wake up that early to selfishly work on your book, or your business, or your body, you’re always alone. That’s the point. There’s no one to distract you from going after what you want. There’s no one to ask you for a favor, or get mad at you for not answering that text or email or jury summons or whatever. And most importantly, there’s no one there to do the work for you. It’s on you.
So you wake up, and you suffer. Alone. And you just kind of have to be OK with that, somehow.
But then, occasionally, something magical happens. You look up, and you see another human being doing that same morning run, in that same shitty weather, with that same pained look on their face. And as you run toward each other, they see you too. And it’s genuinely surprising, because you know how crazy YOU are. So they must be as equally crazy as you, the poor bastards.
And then you realize, no, you’re not alone. There are other people out there you don’t even know, that you’ll never even meet, all doing the same stupid impossible shit you are, because they all had that same stupid impossible idea you did. And it makes you smile because someone GETS it.
As we passed by each other, we didn’t have glasses, so we bumped fists. And it felt better to bump fists in that moment than it had in years of staying up late in college trying to bump uglies.
I knew him. He knew me. We were the same, each of us stranded out in the ocean, each of us desperately trying to be an island even though we were in the same boat. And that was enough to keep me going.
I don’t know what stupid idea is running through your head right now making you feel utterly alone. That secret thing you chase that makes you feel like the whole world is stacked against you. That impossible mountain you need to climb with broken legs and bleeding hands and birds shitting on your head for sport.
But keep going, because if you do, you’ll eventually meet someone else covered in self-inflicted bird shit too. And then you’ll get to have that tiny, fleeting moment where you bump proverbial fists, even if you’re living across the world from each other.
That tiny, fleeting moment might end up being the single greatest utterly insignificant thing you’ll ever experience. And that will be enough to keep you going.
