“Morning is wonderful. Its only drawback is that it comes at such an inconvenient time of day." - Glen Cook, Sweet Silver Blues
What is it about waking up early on the weekends that can truly inspire someone? Is it the hazy glow from the not-yet-risen sun? Is it the thought that while you tiptoe down the empty streets, the city that never sleeps is actually asleep? Or is it the idea that rising early promises a day of opportunities?
For me, I guess I'd have to say it's a combination of all three. I throw on a sweatshirt and some cutoffs--a beanie for bed head that has yet to be tamed--and head to the corner coffee shop. I grab my morning coffee and a copy of The New York Times, which I'll later flip through, pretending to be interested in the politics section but really just looking for the culture pages. I'll head to the park, dodging trees and unreliable paths in order to get to my secret spot: a gazebo nestled behind rocks and trees that has a perfect view of the row boat lake.
These are the little things that make my typical anti-morning attitude a little more bearable. Presumably because instead of heading onto the subway to fight through rush hour crowds, I'm heading onto empty streets and through an unclaimed Central Park.