The 5 a.m. Pact (Spoiler: I Regretted It)
My alarm clock blared at 5 a.m., an ungodly hour that should only exist in horror movies. Groggily, I hit snooze, wondering why I’d agreed to meet my friend, Sarah, the Queen of Dawn, for a sunrise jog. Sarah, the type who bounds out of bed at the first hint of daylight, had convinced me that becoming a morning person was the key to unlocking my full potential. I, a card-carrying member of the Night Owls Society, was skeptical, but desperate enough to try anything.
The Great Pre-Dawn Struggle
Dragging myself out of bed felt like trying to escape quicksand. Each step was a monumental effort. I stumbled around in the dark, searching for workout clothes that didn’t scream “I’ve given up.”
Meeting Sarah at the park was like witnessing a unicorn in its natural habitat. She was disgustingly chipper, already halfway through her warm-up routine.
“Isn’t this amazing?” she chirped, her voice full of sunshine and rainbows.
I grunted something that vaguely resembled agreement, my eyes glued to the barely-there sunrise. It was more of a gray smudge in the sky, frankly offensive to anyone who hadn’t had their daily dose of caffeine.
The jog itself was a blur of pain and internal screaming. My lungs felt like they were on fire, my legs were lead weights, and every bird chirping sounded suspiciously like laughter directed at my misery.