For the past few months, I've been waking up really early for my daily workout. The 4am start has slowly become habit. A home-brewed espresso shot, juice and muesli gets me going. At a steady pace, it takes 30 minutes to get to the gym, through parks and pretty streets. Preparation for this daily routine is vital.
Ipod-check. Keys-check. Decked out in workout gear, with a dance tune in my head, I'm set to hit the concrete roads. I turn the lights out and walk smack into a wall! My knee made first contact with the corner as my palm slapped the side of the wall with a big bang, to stop my body from crashing into it.
A few shaky steps later, I was out in the pleasant chill of a beautiful dawn. The pain of a bruised ego and knocked-up knee melts away in my false pretense of cool. My feet settle into a gentle, rythmic two-step dance. The wind carrying me away from my bewildered flat mates, who were likely shocked out of their sleep.
Sometimes, I wonder... am I a hazard to myself?
