The Morning Push

 The alarm usually went off at 6:00 AM, signaling the start of a relentless cycle: emails, deadlines, meetings, and the heavy weight of other people's expectations. For Walter, the mornings had become a gray blur of obligation. He was a good employee, a reliable partner, a dependable friend, but somewhere in the shuffle of being everything to everyone, he had completely abandoned himself. He felt out of balance, teetering on the edge of burnout.

Then, one Tuesday, Walter decided to break the pattern.

The alarm still went off at 6:00 AM, but instead of reaching for his laptop, Walter reached for his old skateboard in the back of the closet. He dusted off the cobwebs, grabbed his wireless headphones, and walked out the door before the rest of the world was fully awake.


He drove to an empty parking lot by the waterfront, the concrete still cool from the night air. He put on his headphones and pressed play on a playlist he hadn't listened to in years. As the first bassline dropped, Walter stepped onto the board.

The first push felt foreign, then liberating. The rhythmic clacking of the wheels against the pavement drowned out the noise of his responsibilities. He wasn't an employee. He wasn't a provider. He wasn't a man burdened by expectations. He was just Walter, gliding through the open air.

He closed his eyes for a moment, feeling the wind on his face, letting the music wash over him. For the first time in months, he felt his shoulders drop from his ears. He felt joy, pure, unadulterated joy.


He wasn't giving equal attention to his career or his chores right now. He was giving his attention to his own wellbeing. Nothing was demanding that he abandon himself.

After thirty minutes of carving through the empty lot, Walter sat on the edge of the curb, catching his breath. A smile stretched across his face. He looked at his watch. It was 6:45 AM. He still had plenty of time to go home, shower, and head to the office. The responsibilities of the day were still waiting for him, but they no longer felt like a cage.

By reclaiming his center, his music and his board, before the day began, Walter had ensured that when he walked into work, he was bringing his whole self, not just what was left of him. He was ready to face the day, because he had finally put himself first.


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