Rising in the Dark

Shades of seventh grade, when—in the cold and dark of the Pittsburgh winter—I would rise, as the plastic tab that made the numbers in my pre-digital era alarm clock, flipped over from 4:29 to 4:30 AM, and drag myself through the pre-dawn streets, canvas bag stuffed with Pittsburgh Post-Gazettes over my left shoulder and flopping against my right hip, like some sort of underground miner, my entire work day (mine a mere hour and a half as opposed to more than eight, though) taking place in the pitch black, until I could finally make it back home and fall back into bed, still before the sun rose, and then get up for real when at last the day had faded into gray, and run as fast as my pre-teen legs could carry me, to slide into my seat in homeroom just as Mrs. Hyman began calling roll.

Well, only “shades” of that, but still, I’m not digging these mornings at all; they’re the one where I do have to get up when it’s still dark and am compelled to pretty much complete my entire yoga practice before the sun peeks its head above Lake Washington to the east.

It’s no way to live, really; people weren’t meant to wake up when it’s still dark—except maybe on weekend mornings to go skiing or take a bike ride.

We’ll get a little reprieve next weekend, I guess, when the Bush-era extended Daylight Saving Time ends, and also, in as a bonus, another much-needed hour for carousing on Halloween night.

I’m looking forward to that, even though it means that the long lines of cars on the 520 highway waiting backed up to cross the floating bridge that I pass by on my bike ride out to school won’t be quite so long, (thanks to daylight); that means I won’t get to feel quite so smug; however, I will, at least be more awake to enjoy it.