Breathe in slowly through my nose. Then out through my mouth. My brain slows down as my feet speed up.

This is my , my moment of zen. You might call it a run.

For years, I’ve been a  but never a serious racer. My casual relationship with running started a decade ago when I mourned my first major breakup and the only thing that would keep me from thought-spiraling was to move my feet so fast that my brain didn’t have room to focus on anything but breathing. I also liked the smile-nods I received from fellow exercisers. Since then, I’ve turned to running as a sporadic stress-reliever, but never considered myself a “runner,” per se. 

Now, amid the global unease of the , I

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