Single Digits

It’s 6am Saturday morning and Drew is next to me hiding his phone under the covers as he catches up on the latest headlines. While he’s trying block the blue light from my face, his special alarm clock has gone off that lights up the room with some natural “sun is gently coming” up glow.

Your alarm clock is going off.

He peels back the comforter and looks at me, huh?

It’s that light thingy, I say half awake and then turn over to face the dark half our room.

He’s up and out of bed, combing through the mile high pile of running clothes he’s accumulated. He has 20 minutes to get dressed and over to the coffee shop where he’ll meet up with his Saturday morning running group. He’s asking me what he should wear (he asks me this EVERY morning) and what the temperature is even though he checked less than five minutes ago. He acts weather helpless, though if you know him, he’s prepared for anything when it comes to running.

We are in the single digit part of a Chicago winter and there is nothing that will make running outside a delight. Still, he adds special layer after layer that will do the magic of making his time in the cold bearable.

I pull the covers up closer to my chin as he walks out the bedroom door with the hood already over his head.  See you later, he says and then disappears down the dark hallway.

I’m left thinking of those two new pairs of winter running tights I just got for some super deal which is never really quite a deal and always too much money. They promised to protect me from the bitter wind and stay light so my legs don’t feel weighed down by the extra protection. (Trust me, my legs aren’t weighed down from the tights.) They’d be perfect for this Saturday am if I wanted to actually get up and run. I decide to let them take up space a little longer and I pick up a book.

The boys begin to stir and show up in my bedroom to claim some electronic device that we make them leave with us overnight. If we didn’t they’d be up all night trying to catch some Pokemon or watching another episode of Parks and Rec. I know this because it’s happened before, ahem, many times. They wonder where we hid their DS gaming whatever and I tell them sorry, that one’s in the safe. I’m lucky enough to never remember the combination. Annoyed,  one stomps away and I not so gently remind him that we wouldn’t have to put it in there if they had any self control. I’m hoping that I won’t have to confiscate all of their belongings before they go to college.  At this rate, they’d never leave their rooms to go to class.

The sun’s peaking through the crack in the window shade and I look at my phone to check if we are in double digits yet. No such luck.  I’m too restless to read or go back to sleep and  I know it’s now or never.

Time to take the tag off the fancy running pants and dig out a balaclava. This requires me to get out from under the covers- I count to 3 and force myself up. Let’s get this Saturday going.

Have a great weekend and stay warm friends!

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