BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!
The alarm went off at exactly 5:45 a.m. It is annoying how precise alarms can be...even a couple more minutes of sleep would feel like heaven. But a couple more minutes wasn’t going to make me a better athlete, so I got out of bed, cringing at the cold air and the still night look of the sky. Do any other kids do this on the weekend? Get up early to workout? But that didn’t matter. I wasn’t any other kid.
Bleary eyed and still dreaming about my bed, I got up, put on my workout clothes, and went to get ready. Ten minutes later I was in our make-shift workout room (living room) jamming music through my ear buds. Then I got started with my first workout for the day.
Ten minutes in and sweat was dripping from my face. By the time the sun peeked over the horizon, I was beat. My arms were lead, and could barely do one more rep. But I didn’t stop. I kept going.
Why do I do this to myself I thought, even though it was a stupid question. I knew the answer. I'm a 14 year old who loves basketball. I have a dream of playing on the big stage. This motivates me to show up every day to do better and be better. I love the intensity of basketball: the mental and physical challenge of a fast paced game. There is always something to work on: fitness, ball handling, shooting, sports IQ, how to be a better team mate, etc. I'm hard on myself. I keep trying to improve. Striving for progression getting closer to perfection.
One hour later and I was done. I collapsed on the floor, breathing in the silence of the sleeping house. There’s something special about knowing you're up before everyone else. Knowing you're up and working before most people have even begun to stir. There’s so much satisfaction in that.
I went to get breakfast, already thinking about my next workout: how far I’ll run this afternoon and how many hours of shooting I’d do before lunch...