I had finished my jog and after stretching went for a walk over to the bakery, hoping I could grab a bagel, eat it, cool off, and get back to the room before my wife and daughter woke up. Finishing a quick three miles before 6 AM and heading outdoors means you see things at Disney World most people don't. Along the Boardwalk, the place was waking up. A bevy of individuals were busy scrubbing railing to my left. Pastry chefs were making croissants and muffins and desserts and had probably been on the clock since 2 AM. Landscapers were landscaping and a maintenance crew was replacing light bulbs. This, of course, is what makes Disney, well, Disney. It's cleanliness. The fact that light bulbs aren't missing or that railing paint isn't chipping. What we might call preparation for the work Disney considers work.
Getting up early allowed me to see this. I like being up early, reading, writing, or running. This work (not just preparation for something else) doesn't have to happen before the sun is up. It could happen after the sun goes down or while it's high in the sky.
The key, here, is the work.
Lots of us want certain dreams to come true and we fool ourselves when we think that things never seem to go our way. We wait and we wait and we wait for the right opportunity to come, thinking that when it does, certainly we'll take advantage of it.
Maybe it came when we were sleeping. Maybe it ignored us because we weren't prepared.
My grandfather worked on a railroad for years and was always punctual (he still is). Legend has it that he'd usually show up 30 minutes before his graveyard shift, "just to see if they need me." He's the kind of guy who would show up three hours before his flight leaves, "just in case the captain decides to leave early."
Of course, air travel isn't like that. But our dreams might be.
You never know when they'll show up, ready for us to run along with them into some fantastic unknown. Saying to them, "I'm not ready!" is fine, but they may not show up again.