Early on in high school, I developed a love for running. I was never the fastest, and I didn’t have “right” form, but it was mind-clearing and therapeutic.
I ran for half an hour every day in the afternoon. I lived in an old agricultural labor camp in the Monterey Bay area, so I was surrounded by acres and acres of land that I would use as my personal running track — open for me to use whenever I wanted.
I would get tired quickly. I would pant and trip but was oblivious because my focus was on the music blaring out of my noise-canceling headphones.
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