In the Morning when I Rise...

I am not a morning person. I actually have always hated mornings. I've always been more of a "night owl," if you will. I was always easily able to stay up until 2 or 3 in the morning to finish homework, no problem. On the other hand, if I went to bed with the intention of getting up early to finish my homework (no matter how reasonable my bedtime hour), it wasn't going to happen. I would inevitably wake up two hours later than planned and be late to class and homeworkless.

It's been a bit different for me recently. I've really "revised" who I am, in a way. Almost seven weeks ago, I made the commitment to get up at 7 every morning (about two hours earlier than I would ideally like to get up) in order to work out using the P90X workout routine that has recently become rather popular. (Please note that I hate physical exertion of any kind, and I hate working out with a particularly intense kind of loathing). But, nonetheless, I've been doing it. For seven weeks (minus the week I was in New Orleans [which I really don't think I should be penalized for, because we were getting up early and working hard there anyway]), I have been getting up between 7 and 7:30 am six out of seven days a week to work out.

The first two weeks sucked. I hurt in places where I didn't even know I had muscles. I hated my alarm clock more than I have probably ever hated anything before in my entire life (except, of course, physical exertion). And I hated the morning with a burning passion. And then, I changed into my workout clothes and very bitterly began working out. And I hated it. And I hated stupid Tony Horton (the "MC," if you will, of the work-out videos) and his pseudo-funny jokes.

But, after seven weeks, something funny happened. I discovered that I actually began to like getting up early and seeing the bright morning sun. I like feeling like I have accomplished quite a bit and actually been productive before going to work or school. And, beyond that, I like that muscles are forming where previously they had withered. I'm really proud of myself. I'm half-way done with the P90X routine, which I have tried to start several times before and always severely failed. But this time, I'm getting buff!

But my new buffness factor is not the point of this. The point is that, several days ago, I became very convicted. I realized how pathetic it was that I was willing, for seven weeks now, to make time to get up early and spend an hour working out (something I despise doing), and yet I have never made a distinct effort to get up every morning and have quiet time with my Lord and Savior (whom I love)! How backwards is that?!? So, seven days ago, I made a commitment to push my morning alarm clock a little earlier each morning and to give some of my time to God. I'm experiencing a bit more of my loathing for the mornings again, because there is a significant difference between waking up at 7 am and waking up at 6 or 6:30 am, but God is worth it, and I'm going to testify to that fact not only with my words, but also with my actions.

Oh, and in case you were wondering, the whole "getting up at 7 to work out thing" has put a serious cramp in my "night owl" style. I can barely stay up past 10:30 pm nowadays. I'm getting old.