Day Sixteen - Whoops

I got up, brushed my teeth, grabbed my lunch, my bag, and I was out the door. No major train problems(for once), so I rolled into the gym on time. Scan my gym card, up the stairs, set my backpack down, open the locker, get my stuff out and...I forgot to pack gym shorts.

Actually, checking my bag earlier that morning I mistook a blue shirt for my blue shorts. Blue is blue is blue, especially when you are in a hurry. I bought shorts from the gym, because after finally having a(relatively) pain-free path to the gym in the morning, I was sure as shit¹ gonna work out.

Once I finally got on the treadmill, workout was fine. I still need to add some new cardio songs, though. I used to use Nike+ to track my runs, but the sensor died and I never bothered to replace it. Maybe tracking runs again would motivate me to do a little more cardio. Lord knows, with summer coming, running more won't hurt.

¹Shit being very high on a scale of sureness, obviously.

Day Fifteen - MTA Hates Me

Friday, a train I was on was taken out of service. Today, the same thing. Tomorrow I'll go for the hat trick, and if I get that, Wednesday I'll go for the Tiger Slam of MTA delays.

My workout was fine; I really like how sparse the morning gym crowd is. It's a big advantage that I don't have to be at work until 10:00am; I get to avoid most of the pre-workday crowd who have to be at the office around nine or nine-thirty. In fact, I see them leaving the gym as I'm getting to the gym.


Sunday, my slept debt incurred during my week of waking up early but largely refusing to change my late bedtime kept me in bed until just past noon. It felt great to catch up on snoozing, but it was also a reminder that this week I need to buckled down and gradually go to bed earlier, when I first get tired.

I may keep this going another week, to really cement this new morning habit.

Day Fourteen - Epic Apartment FAIL

Yesterday morning, I woke up shivering. During the night, my building lost power. The heat stopped. My iPhone had died from running the Sleep Cycle app. I checked my laptop to see what time it was: late, way too late for me to make the gym. I'd overslept, because of a god-damned power outage.

Plus, no hot water for a shower.

Plus, the L train I was on was taken out of service before I even got out of Brooklyn.

Next week will be better. That's what I'm telling myself.

Day Thirteen - Crazy

I had pool last night, so I was out late; my match start time was nine. I finished fast(7-3 victory!), but stuck around for a few beers with my teammates. The plan was to go to my girlfriend's place afterwards. It was a good plan, except that I left my gym bag at my apartment when I left for the pool hall.

I didn't want to go back to Brooklyn, then come back all the way into the city. So, I convinced myself - after a couple¹ beers - that I would go over to my girlfriend's place as planned, and get up earlier than usual the next morning so I could trek back to my apartment, get my stuff, and from there get to the gym. All before work.

Yeah, that didn't happen. I got up at seven-thirty, not seven. My original plan had no chance in hell of working(it was a precarious idea even I had gotten up at seven). So, walking to the six train(the dreaded, dreaded six train...) I decided I would just go to work, getting there really early, and I would count this as kind of a half-day; half-doing what I was supposed to do. Not a total failure. 

Then I remembered my running shoes are almost five years old. I've been meaning to get new ones.

So, at 8:15 in the morning, I was wandering the Modell's in Times Square - carrying my pool cue from the night before - shoe shopping. I got some mid-priced Nike running shoes, and some discounted gym wear(shirt, shorts, and socks). 

Now, I'm at my desk, a large plastic Modell's bag next to my desk. Inside it: my new, now sweaty gym clothes, and my old shoes(I'm wearing the running shoes, under the pretense of "breaking them in" but really because they are more comfortable then the shoes I was wearing).

Streak alive at lucky thirteen.

¹The term "couple" can be explained by the following: 2 =< (true number of beers) < 10.

Day Twelve - I Really Have To Go

My roommate usually doesn't get up until 8:30. About every two weeks, however, on a random weekday he rises around my new wake-up time.

Waiting for the bathroom - we've all done it, whether for a roommate, sibling, the cat, whoever. The ten or fifteen extra minutes in the morning are really meaningless. None of that bothers me. What gets to me is the randomness. And, when I wake up having to pee, it makes for a fun morning.

I stand in the kitchen, staring at the closed bathroom door, and I have to pee. Read part of a magazine. I have to pee. Pace, from the front door back to the fridge, from the mirror back to the kitchen sink. I really have to pee. Read the magazine again - wow, look what Matt Damon is up to, bringing clean water to India - then walk to the fridge, study the magnet that tells us how to divide the recyclables, wonder who drew the anthropomorphic trashcans, peer out the window, think about the neighbors, see that's it flurrying and GOOD LORD I HAVE TO PEE.

Right before I consider relieving myself in an old beer bottle, the door opens. Thank god.

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Not much else to report. I'm waking up, going to the gym - so far so good. Eight more days.

Day Eleven - Sunshine

The sun is out, the air cold but crisp instead of biting, and the Subway wasn't as hellish. A much better start today.

I'm still mixed on the Sleepy Cycle app. I seem to always wake up before the half-hour window the app's alarm has, then I fall back into a deep sleep, and the app has no choice but to wake me up instead of waiting for a "light" sleep cycle. The first day it worked great, since then, nothing. At least it lets me track how much sleep I'm getting every night(not enough).

Of course, on the bright side, maybe this habit of waking up before my alarm is evidence that my early-riser habit is starting to stick. I can only hope.

Day Ten - Evil Urges

Evil Urges - My Morning Jacket

My girlfriend's apartment is farther away from my gym then my apartment is. Geographically, this is a lie.

My girlfriend lives in the Upper East Side of Manhattan, and I live on the outskirts of Williamsburg in Brooklyn. She lives closer, this indisputable. A New York morning commute, however, is it's own reality, and doesn't give a shit about something as insignificant as geography. It doesn't matter that the physical distance between my door and the door at the Theater District New York Sports Club is almost six miles and the distance from my girlfriend's door is less than half that; because of the constant stream of New Yorkers trying to force themselves onto the 6 train at 77th street, because of the fatiguing wait for a transfer at 59th street, because of the idling trains waiting for their fellows up ahead to get moving(we are delayed because of train traffic ahead of us, please be patient), because of all this I can leave my girlfriend's geographically, physically and for all purposes closer apartment at the same time I would leave my apartment that is not only further away but across a goddamn river, and still arrive at the gym at the same time regardless.

Not to mention being stuck, impatient and cranky, can make a man consider heaping horrible violence upon his fellow passengers. Especially those who don't pay attention and stand at the bottom of steps, those who plant themselves just one step into a newly arriving train(forcing the rest us to go around the prick to fit into the car), and those who think their newspaper is so fan-fucking-tastically fascinating they just can't put it away and let more people squeeze in and get to work on time. Fuck.

....

The gym was fine, waking was fine.