Breathe in through your nose,
out through your mouth.
That’s all that fills my head,
when I run.
And sometimes that’s okay. Because sometimes the weight of knowledge compresses too hard on my chest. Sometimes the thoughts tumbling inside have too much momentum.
So for those few miles where there’s perfect rhythm—breathe in deep, breathe out—there’s peace. I forget what is behind me and press on to what is ahead.
Then, we must always return somewhere: a place called home where reality hits and life resumes. But the rhythm sustained in that brief respite remains, giving us the air we need for when we hold our breath too tightly throughout the days.