I am a major early riser. Which, based on my belligerent high school self who refused to get up at any alarm, is surprising. These days my body clock is pretty squarely set to 5:43am. I know, kind of a random minute, but that’s what stuck. So even on weekends I’m up with the sun and waiting a solid few hours before E is awake. That may sound like sheer torture to some, but I really love it. That’s the ‘me’ time of a week where I get to be super productive or Netflix-indulgent or the Mrs. Clean of our condo. Well, this past Saturday was a different story. I made E promise to get up with me bright and early (note, only 7:30am) for a run. I can’t say he was converted by the experience, but by 11am he couldn’t get over all we’d fit into the morning. We even made a trek into this nearby reservation with endless trails and a sprawling pond. I’ll admit that flats were not the best hiking choice, but an unstructured white dress felt so beautifully stark against all the greenery.
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