A barely drunk coffee cup, a personal Starbucks cup, a chest light, and some action figures. What do they have in common? Each object tells you something about how my morning could go.
At just past 5 AM, I like to wake up early to catch everyone in the house still asleep. I slip on my slippers, and the first thing is to drink a large glass of water with creatine. I do 10 minutes of yoga stretches, downward dogs, and warrior poses to loosen up and get moving. Next, pour myself a cup of cold brew coffee and throw in as quietly as possible some ice cubes. Then it’s time for some writing, while I can and before distractions come. I type away, hoping the words come out easily, always conscious of the time. And if the baby cries, I’ll zoom in there to see if I can be of help. Most mornings, I’ll have sipped that coffee cup only a few times, and the ice cubes all melted, but it’s more of a security blanket anyway.
Alarm at 4:40 AM; this morning I’m biking to Starbucks. Down that large cup of water with creatine, and grab my pre-packed backpack, turn on my audiobook, and I pedal away in the dark, away from my family left in the house still sleeping. In the cafe, there’s always one old man who beats me there, and he’s already chomping down on a sandwich with his hot coffee. He gives me a head nod, as if acknowledging, “beat you here again.” At the counter, I hand over my personal cup, and she knows my usual order, saying it out loud to get my verbal agreement. While I pay for it using the app, it’s just enough time to catch up on our kids; school started for hers. As I sit down to do some writing, there’s no need for earbuds this early; the espresso machine and the ladies talking barely out of earshot make it a pleasant background noise. As the clock ticks closer to 6:00 AM, I rush to pack up and bike home as fast as I can. Fingers crossed when I get home, no baby is crying, and no one noticed I was gone.
Alarm at 5:10 AM, this morning is slated for a run. I down a large cup of water with creatine, and strap on my chest light, since it’s pitch black outside and surprisingly no streetlights where I live. I step out of the house. I leave my wife with the baby and the toddler. And in the still hot garage from the day before, I lace up my new On running shoes, do a quick stretch, and I’m off. All of this before my mind is really awake and definitely way before my legs are awake. If someone saw me running, they’d probably think I don’t know how to run, with my legs stiff and awkward. But I keep going, knowing that at the half-mile mark, I’ll do another stretch and that’s when my body will be with me. I got 30 minutes for this run. I want to be back in the house by 6:00 AM, fingers crossed no one noticed I was gone. And I’ve done this early morning run enough times that I know about an hour after it, I’ll be feeling my best, with blood flowing and all the cobwebs cleared out.
Alarm at 5:10 AM; it’s an early start to the workday. Get my creatine with water, then do a short 10-minute yoga to stretch what needs to be stretched. I hurry up to pack up the lunch I prepared the night before, get dressed in business attire, and kiss the wife and baby goodbye while they sleep. It’s less than a 40-minute commute given how early it is, and I’m in my office with only my coworker there before me. I can typically get caught up on emails and actions before my kids wake, before I hear the vibration of a FaceTime call. What’s the first thing my toddler asks for? “Papa, where’s Gundam, Cyclops, and Batman?” They’ve become recurring figures, where I act out stories and adventures and how they help her papa at work. Her enthrallment with my puppeteering goes on for a good while. This allows my wife to get herself and the baby ready. By the time my wife is ready for the toddler, Gundam, Cyclops, and Batman have had their breakfast and are ready for the next adventure.
In every instance, I’ve left the house, or subtracted myself away physically from my family. Where does that subtraction go? A study published in Nature in 2021 suggests that when solving problems or coming up with ideas, people tend to add, not subtract. And so, when I’m trying to add to my cup, what happens? Does it always result in less for others, like my wife holding the baby? Or can it somehow result in more for everybody, like playtime with Batman over FaceTime?
“Take a breathe and remind yourself, today is just a day.
Today I am going to have a huge laugh.”
- from my AffirmStreak this morning
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