I don't like running, I am. I am running on a treadmill, trying to outrun my own doubts and insecurities. Trying to outrun uncertainty and my future. I am running. I run as fast as I can, but I never move. With distractions in front of me and music in my ears, I try to fool myself into thinking I am winning the hopeless race I am on.
I've never been good at running. I tire to quickly and I am not fast. Fear keeps me running but, when I know it's hopeless to keep going, my legs give up. I stop running and fall to the ground. And I wait. I wait for what I've been running from to catch up to me. And it always does. I sometimes think that stopping would be easier but distractions keep me going. As long as I don't face what I fear and I keep a steady pace, the insecurities and uncertainty will disappear, right? That's how it works, right? Because I'm so tired. This much running is not good for my legs or my body.
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