I’m Not a Morning Person. Here’s How I Became a Morning Runner Anyway.
Like every workday, it’s 8:30 a.m., and I am in bed, one eye still closed, the other squinting at my phone’s screen. I’m engaging in my favorite self-torture practice—scrolling through Strava and checking on my coworkers’ finished morning runs.
I wish I didn’t, but I hate mornings. Hating mornings is part of my identity. I linger under the covers in my Snoopy sleepwear that says “Allergic to Mornings” until I have just enough time to throw on some clothes and make the five-minute walk to work to be at my desk by 9.
As I pass through the kitchen, I’ll grab my favorite mug that reads “I’m here. I’m awake. Don’t push it.” and turn to the coffee machine that has a wooden sign on top saying “Don’t talk to me until I have my morning coffee. And after that, still don’t talk to me.” When I get to the office, I’ll try to avoid eye contact or, worse, interactions with my coworkers for the next few hours.
And yet, I’d lie if I didn’t admit to being jealous of everyone who’s able to put in miles before the day really starts. The things I could be doing in the afternoons if I didn’t have runs on the schedule!
I’ve tried various tricks to make my own morning mark on Strava—I’ve gone to bed early in hopes that waking will be easier (just to stare at the ceiling until my regular bedtime and snooze my alarm in the morning as usual). I’ve given myself no other choice but to get up when my phone alarm starts ringing by leaving it on the other side of my bedroom—or so I thought (apparently, the decision to return to bed after leaving it is made separately). I’ve prepared my workout clothes and decided on a quick breakfast the night before to make my morning routine as hassle-free and mindless as possible (only to wait too long for the food to settle to still fit in the run before work). I’ve gotten up, just to conclude I’d definitely have to wash my hair if I were to sweat, and given up.
In short, I committed to any excuse I could find, my evening self having a very different agenda from the morning one. I abandoned the pursuit.
Until my parents’ visit in May of 2024.
For two weeks, I vacated my bedroom to provide them with more comfort while setting myself up in my un-air-conditioned office on an air mattress. On day one, the rising morning temperature and humidity woke me up at 5:45 a.m.; groggy and sweaty, I willed my body to fall back asleep—which it didn’t. On day two, when the same dreadful scenario unfolded, I got up to get coffee, and since I had a few hours to kill, I decided to put on running clothes and see what would happen.
It was rough. My stiff muscles, unaccustomed to moving so much and so early, were protesting in every way possible. My lungs were squealing. My feet felt leaden. Oh, the drama! I was so miserable that I couldn’t even enjoy the fact that I was finally doing it. But somehow I finished my usual three-mile route and still returned home in time to shower before having breakfast with my parents.
I carried on with this routine throughout their entire stay. I was so tired from my early awakenings that my bedtime started gradually shifting on its own.
By the time I dropped my parents off at the airport and moved back into my cool bedroom, I was used to the new routine enough to keep it going.
I realized that what I was originally missing was resolve and perseverance. Becoming a morning runner didn’t happen overnight, nor did I feel great after the second or even fifth pre-work run. At no point in the process did I suddenly fall in love with waking up early. I’m still not—and never will be—a morning person. But with consistency, my body slowly accepted the new routine. With patience, I got through the adjustment period and stopped feeling tortured by my alarm once it went off in the wee hours. And with the temperature climbing even higher over the rest of the summer, I was actually grateful to get the run in before the hottest time of the day.
To shift my wake-up time, I had to shift my expectations and accept a simple truth: It will suck for a certain amount of time—until it doesn’t.
Pavlína Černá, an RRCA-certified run coach and cycling enthusiast, has been with Runner’s World, Bicycling, and Popular Mechanics since August 2021. When she doesn’t edit, she writes; when she doesn’t write, she reads or translates. In whatever time she has left, you can find her outside running, riding, or roller-skating to the beat of one of the many audiobooks on her TBL list.