Depression Hates a Moving Target: How Running With My Dog Brought Me Back From the Brink

by Nita Sweeney

“I’m a runner,” I whispered to my mind. Then I pulled up my panties, opened the door, and ran.

The safety pins were for the bib. It went on the front. Putting it on the back meant you were an amateur. I was an amateur but wanted no one to know.