It surely has to be a sin of the highest order to pay heed to that 6 am alarm and to throw aside the incredibly languorous cocoon of indolence that had wrapped us, layer on layer, and lulled our harried bodies and minds over a long night. It surely has to be a crime against conscience to sit up and stretch all those muscles and thoughts that have been steeped in sleep, despite the angels and cherubs and little pink piggies and cuddly bears all hanging on to our bedclothes and imploring us not to. And only sheer masochism can make us tear off the warm clothes that have become our second skin, baring the flesh to the cruelty of freshness and laying on them the indignity of things like sports wear. O cruelty, thy name is fitness.
But all said, there is something that makes us rise cursing the clock, but rise nonetheless. And groan our way into socks and shoes and step out into the morning light. For morning is, undisputably, the best time to be awake, and go for a walk.
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