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I’ve never considered myself a runner. When I was in middle school, we were forced to run a mile and a half in gym class and it was always a day I dreaded. The gym teacher made fun of the way I swung my arms when I ran. “You look like this,” she said, while she made some exaggerated movements. She called me a retard. She said I was un-athletic. This would turn anyone off from running.
I didn’t really pick up running, except for the odd jog around the neighborhood, until I started having some real life problems. Lack of control in my life situations created major anxiety. I was not myself, I was just a walking bundle of nerves and hurt feelings. I wasn’t sleeping properly and so I slowly introduced a running routine to “tire me out” during the day. It also relieved some of those anxious feelings:
Oh you have to move – run 5 miles to feel better
Grad school is getting to you – see if you can make it to 6 miles
You didn’t get that job – run 3 miles faster than you have before
Everything would play through my head during these runs, and I started to add more Continue reading