Waking Up

6:10 am - Alarm one goes off
6:11 am - Alarm two goes off

To this chorus of alarms, reverberating with their annoying chime, I wake up every morning. With a supreme act of will, I haul myself out of the bed. Shivering in the dark of my bedroom, I shimmy out of my sleep uniform and into a ratty sports bra, black pants, tech tee. A different uniform.

Coffee maker on, teeth brushed, contacts in. French vanilla chemicals into my bloodstream, I sit on the living room floor and thread my door key onto my Nike shoelace. Almost ready to hit the pavement.

Hit it, I do.

I crawl along, slowly waking up as Nicki Minaj, Lil' Wayne and Beyonce blare through my headphones. The same playlist as always, but somehow still bearable as my body and mind warm up.

After mile two, I shrug off the feeling of death.

I feel invincible. Powerful. Like I can conquer the earth.

I erase those feelings of self-doubt. I give myself a break from expecting perfection. I allow myself to dream and visualize a life that involves passion, purpose and freedom.

Sure, I have to go to work still. I have to do the song and dance for another day. But now that I know this life of mine is finite, I can plaster on a smile and welcome the day and its little blessings with open arms.