NO MORNING GLORY.

I roll out of bed and prepare to take my first step of the day.

As my feet touch the ground, I feel the icy chill of winter set in the floor boards. An unwelcome feeling as I am pulled from sleep so early this Saturday morning.

Duty calls as my attention is once again diverted to the shrill screams of my nearly two year old daughter who has trouble sleeping past 4.30am. I guess today is a good day. It’s 5am.

I shift my weight forward when, like a large burning camp fire, pain burns through my thighs, down my legs. I can’t move. I can’t walk. The muscles feel so stiff, so painful as they are woken from their slumber.

Second attempt. So stiff. So painful. My brain is telling my legs to move. My legs are yelling, begging, in my ears to stop. Suddenly the ice cold floor is a welcome distraction. My 32 year old body is suffering. Perhaps too young for arthritis. Certainly too old to be suffering from its first ever gym class.