It really wasn’t that early. I get up an hour before that five days a week now. But during my senior year at Grove City I didn’t have a class before 11 any day of the week. I only had one difficult class each semester (Dr. Jones…hardest and best professor ever), and so I got to bed at a normal time…
Still, when that alarm went off at 6:36 every morning, I struggled to get out of bed. Some mornings, I hit the snooze button, and waited till 6:41. However, at 6:41, I always jumped out of bed, threw on my gym clothes that were waiting on my desk chair, and began the long uphill climb from the apartments on lower campus to the PLC (which took about 10 minutes booking it).
Some mornings it was pouring (okay – it was western PA…a LOT OF MORNINGS). Many times that winter it had snowed a foot the night below (or worse – negative temperatures with 40mph winds). But I got out of bed and made the walk. Why?
Because I knew that in the hallway outside the “girl Gym” there would be people waiting for me. Christie, Laura, Jenny, Lacey, KT – my amazing sorority sisters. They were there every morning at 7, waiting for the student employee to come open the doors. They would know. So I went.
As painful as it was getting up that early and heading to the gym, once I got there, I never felt the need to take it easy or skip out early. We had fun during those early mornings. Laura and I would sing along to “clumsy” every time it came on the radio, and when it got warmer, we sometimes ran through town instead. Other ABTs came more sporadically, and mentioned that they loved knowing that when they showed up, they would see familiar faces. We pushed each other.
I miss those mornings. I miss the accountability. I miss the leisurely post-workout walk back to my apartment. By then it was between 8 and 8:30, and I often got to hear the bells from Tower Pres playing a hymn or two. Even in subzero temperatures, I loved it. My roommates were both student teaching at the time, and so I had the apartment to myself. And so my morning ritual was extended to include two cups of coffee at the table, with my Bible and journal. I easily spent an hour there each morning…
I don’t say this to brag. It’s more of a confession. I miss those days. The time spent in communion with God. The relationship of accountability that I had with my dear friends.
It’s hard to be disciplined when there is no one to hold you accountable. Neither of my roommates this year are believers. They don’t care if I spent time with God or not today. They don’t really care if I ran or not this morning either. (LACEY, Kim, Laura, and Megan – I MISS YOU!!!!!)
This isn’t an excuse. It’s just the way it is in this season I guess.
Still, I really wish somebody was there to give me the kick in the pants I need on the days when I hit snooze seven times because I know that no one in Williamsburg will know if I sleep instead of going on a run or spending time in the word.