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I've been running for months.
Running from my fear.
Running from my anxiety.
Running from my thoughts.
Running from being alone.
Running from being myself.

I've been standing still all this time, too.
While running from all these things, I've made no progress. I haven't moved from the place I sat when he told me he didn't want to be married to me anymore. I've been stuck in that seat on that patio at that restaurant in that neighborhood, not eating the food on the plate in front of me, sick to my stomach.

This morning my alarm rang out at 5 o'clock. Not because I needed to get up for work, but because I needed to stop running, but start running again.

I got up. Got dressed. Went to the gym. Saw my old 5 a.m. gym pals, who I haven't seen in a while, because I've been too busy running but standing still for the past few months.

I got on the treadmill. Turned the speed up.


I was running. Fast. My heart was pounding. It ached…

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