There’s a lot more to running than the races seen by the spectators. Bad races kill me. I feel defeated. I feel like everything I had worked for was pointless. But here’s the thing—I’m not allowed to give up. That’s not what runners do.
Runners fight back.
You can ask me anything and I’ll answer honestly, but only with yes and no.
you call me your friend??? where were you when my text post got 0 notes??? where were you

I was angry, so I went for a run. And things got better.
I was confused, so I went for a run. And things got better.
I was exhausted, so I went for a run. And things got better.
I was lost, unsure, empty, afraid. Certain that whatever was left of my sanity had snapped, had come untethered and floated away, to a place so high and remote that I would never see it again, and that even if I did, I wouldn’t recognize it.
So I went for a run. And things got better.
I felt like things could not possibly get worse, so I went for a run. And things got better.
(Another time, I felt like things could not get much better. I went for a run. Things got much better.)
After enough miles, over enough runs and enough years, I realized: No matter what, no matter when, or where, or why, I can find my shoes and go for a run and things will get better.
And that realization? Just knowing that?
It made things better.
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