It’s been happening for weeks. Months, now. SuperWoman can’t wake up. She wants to an awful lot, especially when with all good intentions, she sets her alarm for 5:30 a.m., or if she’s especially optimistic, for 5:00. There were days, not even terribly long ago, when she woke up at dawn and did yoga (on days she had kids) or walked outside (when she didn’t have her kids, even in the dark, in the dead of winter!), but now, every time morning rolls around, she hits snooze. And snooze. And snooze again.
And some mornings she doesn’t even have to hit it. She’s grown capable of sleeping through the annoying rattle.
It’s bad. Terrible, even. Because who wants to wake up every morning feeling like a failure? Feeling like she didn’t do what she set out to do?
It all happened after the Crisis of Faith, the Dark Night of the Soul, which SuperWoman will have to tell you about one of these days, though it’s not that interesting. It just took the wind out of our tough girl, and she’s been struggling to climb up the mountain to enlightenment again ever since.
So SuperWoman is setting a goal, and she’s making it public, hoping her sidekicks and her super comrades will hold her to it.
For 30 days, she will wake up and do yoga, even if it’s the mildest yoga she’s ever done. Even if it means she has to get her ass out of bed at 5:30.
She just got through a cleanse, after all. She got through 3 weeks of no sugar, no alcohol, no coffee, no soy, no gluten. She ate only friggin’ brown rice and fruit and nuts and bland chicken and salad greens, for God’s sake. So she’s gotta be able to do this. Even if the idea of stretching her limbs at such an ungodly hour seems horrible, seems like the last thing she wants her body to do, when staying in bed next to Ms. Myra Mason is so damn comfortable.
(In fact, maybe it would be better if she slept on the floor, on the yoga mat, so she didn’t have to do much work to get on the thing.)
This week, she vows, is the start of something different. This week, she’s going to push through anything that holds her back. She’s going to keep saying “Move, move, outta here,” to TIREDNESS, to LAZINESS, to MUSCLE FATIGUE, if that’s what we’re calling it these days.
And she’s going to conquer whatever the hell gets in her way.
Because, as you know, she’s, well, super.
Wish her luck. She’s going to need it.
Image: “yoga” by Bar Baer via Flickr.