To the Jogger out running at 3:40 AM

Good morning, runner friend!

I passed you on my way to work Wednesday, at 3:40 AM on highway 11.

I was the tan pickup truck.  You were the guy running on the shoulder of a four lane highway with only reflective strips to make sure I saw you.

I don't want to come off as rude, here, but what the fuck?

Off the top of my head, in five minutes, I could probably come up with 100 things I'd rather be doing than out running at 3:40 AM.

Who hurt you, brother?  What are you running from?

My first thought was that you and I might have pretty severe philosophical difference.  To me, the only thing justifying being up at 3:40 would be staggering home drunk, or perhaps fighting injustice.  That limits it to the Police, with arguments to be made for EMTs, Batman, Surgeons and the Fire Department.

Note that I did not feel justified being up at 3:40 driving to work.

It got me to thinking about priorities, and who sets them.

I feel like I haven't gotten to set many of mine, of late.

Upon further thought, we all have our choices.  Mine is to keep my job, despite having to wake up at 2:45 to be there by 4 AM, one day a week.  Because I like my foods cold and my televisions on.

And while yours is insane, it is your choice.  (Seriously...jog in the afternoon now that it's fall.  I know your schedule is fucked up, if you're up running at the witching hour, but try the afternoon.  It's been relatively pleasant, lately.)

But it is your choice.

Unless you're a vampire, as Mr. Lynch wondered.

Are you a vampire?

Because that's kinda scary, and I'm glad I didn't stop my truck.