Morning

Dread: it is the feeling shared by all runners on mornings when his body begs for ten more minutes of sleep, hopelessly wishing that somehow his legs will be rejuvenated if he simply thinks about them enough. The warmth of his bed inviting him to succumb to the grasps of mediocrity. He always thinks about it, gives it an undeserving thought and reaches into the depths of his imagination attempting to justify and rationalize the possibility of skipping the run.

He opens his eyes. It's bright outside. To the right is the window, the soft sunlight nudging him to wake up. His two roomates are still sound asleep at the left side of the cabin. He redirects his gaze to the ceiling and sees the scotch-taped piece of paper that reminds him why he's out here. Believe Believe Believe. His renewed resolve is enough to lift his tired legs out of bed. It always is because desire is as hard as diamond, it will never back down to any physical obstacle as long as there is finish line which MUST be reached.

It only takes him a couple minutes to dress. He takes one more look at his sleeping roomates as he turns the doorknob. He can't avoid feeling just a little sorry for them, knowing that they will never dwell in the pleasure of accomplishing so much before the other interns open their eyes. The next couple seconds are a blur - a combination of cold and drowsiness that welcomes the new day.