A runner’s high

WE do crazy things when we’re lost and broken, don’t we? On the first week of November 2016, I signed up for my first ever 22-kilometer run. At that time, I did not know what I was getting into, and my reasons for joining were not clear to me at all.

The only thing that propelled me to run was my anxiety and an ambitious way to escape a routinary lifestyle, which only revolved within the walls of our home and the hospital, where I work as a registered nurse. Never mind that I was heavy then and out of shape, and the only thing that I can bring to the racetrack was a jaded heart and ego of an ex-athlete.