I’ve always seen music as a race—a relentless sprint to outrun the versions of myself that stray off course or distract me. A year ago, I was so focused on my path that any plan outside of it seemed irrelevant. I became a runner in the physical sense around eighteen, and it’s a habit I’ve kept up, dipping into races now and then.
This Saturday, I’m running a half marathon in Prospect Park. The last one I ran was in 2022, just before graduating college. Back then, I wore invisible armor, especially around my kidneys, shielding myself from anything that might pierce through. I threw myself into everything campus life offered, staying up past midnight only to wake at 6am to train. I entered that race with confidence and finished with pride.
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