The Reluctant Runner

I used to love running like whoa. The rush of the air, the pounding of my heart, the music in my ears, the time to let my mind wander and stretch and work things out. The sweat that spoke of a job well done. If I had a problem I needed to work out, I laced up my trusty sneakers and hit the pavement. Running has helped me work through sadness, frustration, anger . . . plot holes in my writing, confusion in my personal life. Pretty much anything I couldn’t wrap my mind around, I was able to han...