Falling Asleep, Waking Up

My kids hate going to bed. Even now, as I'm writing at 9:03 pm, shuffling feet on the hardwood interrupt me. Harsh words from a tired parent pops out, and when the little feet finally comply, the regret starts flowing. After all, I'm not too old to forget how lame bedtime was. It interrupted Legos, sword fights, and fort building. It killed the imaginary worlds we created and left us vulnerable to the dreams, and sometimes nightmares, that reigned over us. In talking to other adults, this hatred of sleep is the norm rather than the exception.

The hope for naps is laughable, or, in the case below, picture worthy. Jack, who I think was mocking his brother's fate, took this picture:

I think this childhood modus operandi is hard for us adults to understand, since we almost universally value bedtime and sleep. 

So why the switch? Why does American adulthood value unconsciousness so much? Why does our society have issues with opioid addiction and alcoholism? Why don't we jump out of bed at dawn and run into the hallway as if it were Christmas, exclaiming to everyone in the house, "It's time to wake up! The sun's out. Look! The sun's out!"

I don't know the answer to this. The switch for me came in middle school, when being cool was all of a sudden the most important thing. Coolness sucked the life out of everything. It was cool to be tired, unimpressed, stone-faced. Anything other than that implied naivety, the most cardinal of all sins.

But I lost something in all that that I am now working hard to regain. After all, we can die at any moment. Go to sleep and never wake up again, at least not here. All of these opportunities, here at our fingertips, will be gone.

There is a 30-ish hour relay race I have done twice now, called the Ragnar Relay. They have them all over the country, and they have become fairly popular. A team of twelve adults runs all day, night, and day, switching out every three to nine miles, until they have covered 200 miles. Below is my wife, running one of her legs at dawn alongside Lake Michigan:

Had we not done the race, I would have missed the most stunning sunrise I have ever seen.

So if you dread waking up, do yourself a favor (or two, or twenty). Take a cold shower; suck on a lemon; turn up the volume and rock out; kiss your lover; run your guts out; laugh until your guts hurt; eat a slice of chocolate cake; eat a jalapeno; smell the roses; stick your head out the car window; splash in the puddles; climb a mountain; have a screaming contest. I guarantee you'll feel better.