Sunday morning

Danica and I had another nice run on Sunday morning - the same three-plus mile track, the same interval training approach (although Art corrected me at my workout on Friday - "They're fartleks," he said, which I kind of already knew, but there's something about that word that seems unserious).

But, oh my - for the second time, I had to be up at 5:40 a.m. to beat the heat.

If you don't already know, I am not a morning person. I lead a rich and interesting sleep life, with dreams as complex and satisfying as Russian novels, none of which I remember when I awake, which gives me another incentive to sleep some more, so as not to leave that world behind, forever lost.

The melody of the only song I've ever written was composed in my sleep.  "Witness Stand" is a blues in B flat, which is not a classic blues key, but it was what was on my mind when I woke up, raced to a piano, and captured the chord progression before it disappeared.

I've written hilarious jokes, poignant poems, and whole television series plotlines in my sleep. In my retirement, it's probably my most productive time, but gone like Snapchat before I can pour milk on my cereal.

So, you understand why I like to sleep and not get up early to go running.

And yet, there I was, walking up the street with Danica to the starting point, at 5:40 a.m.

In a way, this is very affirming, because it reflects that I am committed enough to getting into half marathon shape that I am willing to sacrifice something that means so much to me.  I used to do it when I was training for marathons with my friend Chad, pretty much for the same reasons, even in pre-climate change 1994. Houston gets hot in the summer, always has and always will.

The run was nice. We were both huffing, but also aspiring to improvement. Having both done the long runs before, we have that internal confidence that we can get back to where we once were.

That confidence was tempered, however, by a greater appreciation of our ages.  She's 57, I'm 59, and as often happens when people our ages spending time together, our conversation turned to the looming challenges of mortality. Wills need updating, retirement plans need nurturing, and friends keep turning up in the obituaries. It's the black cloud on the horizon that we are running away from.

And maybe that's why I am willing to get up at 5:40 a.m. As the man says, you can sleep when you're dead. 

I still want to beat my pension fund.

P.S.  Look at those splits!