A non-running post:
Every night I look forward to the bed-time ritual. The sweatpants and baggy t-shirt on, hair in some sort of ponytail, that really does resemble the hair on a horse’s ass. Maybe my teeth are brushed, and maybe there is some applying of lotion so when I get old, my skin doesn’t look like I really did spend my entire childhood lying at the beach with 4 percent sunscreen on. Yes, they make it that low.
The heated, probably going to give me cancer, blanket is cranked up to 9 and the nightstand is littered with chocolate pieces and tea and water-either from that day or five days ago.
Yes, I enjoy my bedtime. 9 p.m. I start to feel it, that droopiness of my eyelids, the fatigue in my muscles, and the blood shot eyes I get – the sure giveaway that Jessica is tired.
I snuggle into bed, prop open the book and bam! I am snoring with my mouth open, lying on my right side, arms outstretched and there’s no waking this corpse until 2:30 when all that water and tea makes a comeback.
5/6 a.m. blares on the iPhone alarm clock and I’m up. Rise and freaking shine.
Still groggy, still feel like my muscles have turned to jello, but the act of falling back asleep for another one or two hours is beyond a no-go.
Its Saturday morning, on a Saturday I don’t work or don’t have to go run.
Its times like these I wonder, “Why even sleep?” Yeah, yeah sleep is your body’s resting period, it helps recover your muscles, and gives your brain time to recharge… Trust me, I am sure I can lounge around a few hours during the day to give my body those exact things.
No. Sleep is what keeps me from doing all the things I say I am going to do in the day. Read 50 to 100 pages of this book, so I can jump to the next one.
Start knitting again and finally finish that other leg warmer, because really, my other leg is cold.
Listen to more music, watch more classic movies.
When I attempt these, one thing usually happens: I fall asleep.
I fall asleep thanks to my tired body going through work all day and then running as many miles as I can before the treadmill stops me at an hour, or the darkening daylight warns me of the predators that stalk the bike trail at night. Don’t worry, they are usually just squirrels.
Some nights there are dreams, and that’s nice. Like running an ultra where I start late and end up in first place-I have had this one many times and each time I win, it’s pretty remarkable.
Or the one where I finally kiss the boy next door who I have been crushing on since he began driving me to swim practice.
But what I want to dream about, what I wish in that, “that would be nice but get real” kind of way, was to be an insomniac.
When I say insomniac though, I don’t want the bad habits, the horrible health effects from not sleeping, and the weird connotations that come with people who say they are insomniacs.
I want to be the Cullen vampire who doesn’t sleep and like him, (Edward..yes I’ll admit I was an Edward fan) achieves hours of reading, exploring, and learning how to play the piano. Or like the coupled vamps who spend every night fucking each other instead of just sleeping peacefully in each others’ arms. I’m sure my boyfriend would go with that one.
Without sleep, my list of books to read, “Books every 20-something Should Read before they grow up” or the 300 or so books mentioned in Gilmore Girls, or hell, I will even take a stab at reading the entire Bible, would all be ticked off.
I would run, lift, plank those abs, and stretch and do yoga like I was training for the Olympics.
I would read every book, watch every movie, write everything that goes through my mind during the day. I WOULD BE SUPERGIRL.
But I write this while looking at my screen with droopy, tired eyes and glancing down at my journal planner, where there are several things not checked off.
How many times does my journal have a To-Do List task that doesn’t get done? How often does a simple 300-page book take me two more weeks than it should have to read? How often do I fall asleep during that classic movie?
Will insomnia fix it? Sure, things would get done, but then what? Of course, the answer: More things will come up.
I am tired of it…get it?
I am tired of being tired.
I am tired of trying so hard to get everything done.
I am tired of trying to be perfect, because honestly, why should I be?
At the end of the day, does it really matter the book isn’t finished? That movie isn’t watched? That leg warmer will stay single?
No, because to me insomnia means perfection.
And, insomnia, from what I have read, really doesn’t work. And, perfection, as I have tried myself and I have many quotes to back me on this, really doesn’t work either.
So, I guess I’ll go get some sleep now. I’m not even going to bring my book with me.