If, even a few months ago, you had told me, "You'll soon be getting up at 5:15 am four times a week to run at the gym." I would have asked if you wanted another drink.
And now, here I am, willingly getting up at 5:15 am on a Monday, in the pitch black of a January predawn, in below-zero temps to work out.
I'm not trying to break my hand patting myself on the back, but this is so alien for me. And weirder still, I don't mind.