Everything Is Possible at 6 a.m.

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Whether you're still sleeping or been up for hours, everything feels doable at 6 in the morning. The hours ahead hold so much possibility. We're going to be productive. Well nourished. Well liked. Well dressed. Well mannered. Relief is coming to those who had a rough night. A reserve of energy is now available to those who didn't.

Then life hits. Emails and texts pour in from people that make you regret that extra cup of caffeine because your heart's racing and mind moving too rapidly. And it isn't even the official start to the day.  

Kids won't get ready. Dogs won't poop while the ground's dry and skies clear. Significant others head out too soon or linger too long watching some lame ESPN show when there are dirty dishes still in the sink, school papers to be signed, outfits to inspect, and contingencies if the dog still won't go No. 2. 

At 6 a.m., we've yet to break plans, promises, or hearts. We're still convinced the next 18 hours will unfold as predicted, or reveal answers to mysteries or miseries we hold close. That the vacation now right around the corner is not canceled, but maybe the Zoom call you've been dreading will be. 

Plenty of people are still asleep at 6, their minds consumed with subconscious thoughts they may or may not remember upon waking. But larks like us are always up, even when we don't need to be. Weekdays at that hour I'm either helping get a teenager with absolutely no self-management skills to eat his breakfast, shower and brush his teeth thoroughly, put on clean clothes, and get to the school bus on time. Or, just as likely, I leave it to my husband to handle. "Gotta get in some exercise," I announce as I pull on running shoes to head out for a 3-mile walk before he can object.

Weekends I'm either meeting friends for a beach walk or inland hike, or I'm curled up on the couch with a steaming mug of tea to help soothe a soul sick of so much bad news. I like our local broadcasters, even the kooky ones on KUSI. I believe their weather reports, even when the chyron says its currently 56 degrees and my phone app shows otherwise. Nothing another layer won't fix.

For years, decades really, I finished a weekday run by 6 because I worked for an East Coast company. At that hour, I was at least 10k into a Sunday long run of which I rewarded myself with an entire morning reading newspapers in my pajamas. Lord, do I miss those days.

Now, I need to wait for the first flares of sunrise to signal my starting time, no longer confident in my ability to see, hear and respond to dangers in the dark. I need to fully take in the road ahead, keep ears and eyes pealed for the dens of coyotes highly active near dawn. Decide if today I will at least nod or weakly smile at the guy with a wonky gait who never does likewise when we pass each other on Black Mountain Road.

Today marks the midpoint between winter and spring, in case you didn't know. The proof is in the pink skies that greet us as we open the window blinds, maybe head out the door. The days are indeed getting longer, even if each dawn also reminds us our lives will soon be one day shorter so we must make the most of the hours we've got.

 (Photo: View while descending a steep hill on yesterday's walk.)


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