This morning my alarm went off at 5:45. I'd been laying awake for five minutes prior to the breezy chime, debating the merits of turning it off before it made a sound, then rolling over.
I got up, zombie-walked around my room, and bumped into the door to the bathroom. I'm sure I woke my wife up, but she didn't seem to mind. Frankly, I think she was thrilled.
I'm not a morning-person. I hate mornings. I have no issues staying up late at night until 2am, but to wake up before 8am? That's my version of Hell. And yet, there I was, getting it together and getting to the gym.
I'm just at the starting line of my weight-loss, so I'm not yet able to take success from actual scale numbers yet, but when it comes to a non-scale victory I can take pride in getting up and making it to the gym two days in a row.
(no weigh-in this morning. I don't have a routine of when I'm weighing in down yet. Right away? After gym, during shower-time? At night before bed? I'll decide that later this week.)