to sleep or not to sleep

Yesterday a friend posted an article about feminism and Twilight on my Facebook page. An argument was made of the fact that the presence of choice is a demonstration of female strength. I’m not going to lambast about sparkly vampires and the girl who loves them here. Because… well, that’s not what I’m thinking about.

The idea morphed into my own reflection of choice. Of will power. Of determination. Of deciding to do something even though I don’t really, really feel like it. Not putting it aside because it is difficult. Not giving in to the temptation to do nothing. As I type this, I can think of half my library and novels that employ these themes, in many variations… but again, this isn’t a lit paper.

It’s about choice. And the choice I’m mulling over is a very trivial one. Even though it is a daily determination that breeds some long term significance. I’m talking about the choice between sleeping in and getting up at dawn to climb the hills of West Newton and perhaps pick up speed to run.

So often people associate temptation with the devil. I might argue that. It’s a good way to demonize that nasty little voice in my head each morning at quarter past five urging me to roll over and go back to sleep. I know that voice is me, my id - a siren luring me to what seems a sweeter place for that hour before the day begins. Okay, I won’t crash my ship against the rocks… but, honestly, my body is less happy if I indulge that harpy.

The superego, of course, puts in her own strong arguments. While she doesn’t have the deliciousness of perpetuating sleep, her reasons are, in the sunlight of the waking day overpowering in logic. But there is that sunlight of the waking day thing. So muscle growth, calorie burn, and even endorphins aren’t always a worthy competitor to the idea of shutting one’s eyelids again.

And yet… for these past two days, these past very humid days, I managed to wrestle out the siren song. I may have actually been sleeping this morning as I started my walk across Rte. 16. But by the end of my 3.2 miles I was awake. Awake and breathing deeply.

It would be an easy thing to rest on my laurels here and determine that because I made my choice this morning, I’m all set. I’ve proven the worth, the strength of my capability. But… I’m going to have to make that choice again tomorrow morning and the next and the next after that. And I can guarantee, the horned id is going to win sometimes – like tomorrow rain is expected… so we’ll see how that argument bodes at 5:13. 

Obviously, if I choose sleep, the world isn’t going to end. In the whole grand scheme of choices we have to make each day, it remains a pretty incongruous one. But, it’s that long term ripple. I hate getting up each morning… but after a month or so of these mornings, there are positive changes. Not the least of which, it is easier to open my eyes when the siren sings her song.