Yes, for the second time in three days, after a nine-month hiatus for my broken-assed leg, I ran.
I always hated running, but when I found I couldn’t do it anymore, it gave me a pervasive feeling of powerlessness.
September third, a rubberized track high above the city at noon. Only a few people were there.
I struggled. Not as much as the first run, but I struggled. But my leg didn’t hurt too much. I couldn’t breathe, legs are too weak, body isn’t used to it. But I ran.