My forced change in schedule has allowed me an opportunity I’ve not seen enjoyed Notre Dame: a continued sequence of mornings well- and freely-spent.
Monday through Friday, I wake with excitement for what I’ll face: labored breathing, a bath in fresh sweat, dirt smeared across my chest, legs shaking with exertion.
Saturday and Sunday, the boom and I stroll about, reveling in the fresh air and the new sun.
These are not so different from my summers of dawn patrol in Hawaii, or my runs around Oxford and the lakes.
My mornings are now as they should be: facing hope, facing life, facing glory.