6:30

6:30 AM. The alarm went off at six. Deliberately. Quick coffee, cycling shorts on, shoes in, go.

Outside, it's quiet. Not a soul, not a car, nothing. Just the street and a sky slowly turning orange. The air is cool, your legs still heavy. But after ten minutes, you find your rhythm. And then you stop, look around, and think: Damn, that's beautiful.

It's a privilege. And I don't mean that as just a cliché.

It's a privilege because it's a choice. Nobody is forcing you to be on your bike at half-past six. Nobody gives you a bonus or praise for it. You do it for yourself. Period.

And that's the whole point: When was the last time you did something just for you? Not for your job, not for your family, not for your to-do list. Just for you.

I'm not talking about wellness weekends or retreats in Bali. I'm talking about 6:30 AM and a bike. Ten minutes of quiet before your first coffee. A walk with no destination and no podcast in your ears.

Something nobody told you to do. That isn't on any list. That you simply do because you're worth it.

It sounds simple. And it is. Yet very few people actually do it.

Because something more important always comes up. Because the calendar is already full before the day begins. Because you've learned that you're only allowed to do something for yourself once everything else is done.

Spoiler: It's never really over.

So get up. Go outside. Whether it’s on a bike, in running shoes, or barefoot across the meadow—it doesn’t matter. It doesn’t have to be much. But it has to come from you.

Written after a ride through the Emmental. Sunrise: free. The decision to watch it: priceless.