When you do something every day, it’s more than just a habit-it’s a way of life. Running everyday is a way of life for me now, and distinguishes one day from another. On most of those days, life is routine. I get up at 6 a.m. and tend to the dogs. After push-ups, sit-ups, and stretching, they do their business before my 3.1 mile run begins. I put little thought into it and that’s what makes it tolerable. However, the routine changes when my wife’s work week comes to an end and her weekend begins.

While listening to the radio this morning, the morning team was talking about people like me who start their day with a run and get up early to do it. In the cold, dark, and rain, we’re somehow driven to leave our warm beds. At this point, I can’t imagine starting my day any other way. However, that doesn’t mean that I don’t frequently dread the task. I just do it! If I think about it too much, it makes it that much harder. This probably makes me a masochist, but somehow fighting through the bad makes the finish line feel that much better! I guess you might call it Grateful Dread.

There’s typically no alarm to wake up to when my wife doesn’t have to go to work. I linger in bed longer on her precious weekends, until I feel guilty about our restless schnauzer puppies with long overdue bladders. The extra hour or hour-and-a-half sleep makes me groggy, and those painful thoughts of exercise are indeed dreadful. It’s even more difficult when we’re not home, and I also have to wait for the troops to join me.

Yesterday, we were in McMinnville and I was up early, concerned about a doggy accident in our fancy anniversary suite. I was out of my comfortable homebody routine and filled with the usual dread about the inevitable run. To make matters worse, I forgot to pack my running shorts, so there was little choice but to wear jeans. I didn’t look like a runner, and therefore didn’t feel like one! My wife accompanied me as we started the “Schnauzerthon” together. For me, it’s a compromise between family time and pounding the pavement. I run with aging Tinker in the stroller, while she walks with energetic Tally on a leash. Pushing the extra 25-pounds in the Air Buggy often makes a 3.1 mile course even tougher on an old man like me. On this occasion it was through the charming neighborhoods near downtown McMinnville in blue jeans on dreadful day 3,766.