I flaked.
I said I’d publish here weekly, I polled y’all for a preferred day of the week, I wrote about an epic 6.5-mile run, and then… I just stopped. Stopped running. Stopped writing. Most importantly: I stopped sleeping.
For the first three weeks of July, I was awake nearly every night from 3a–5a. It became clear, in my haze, that no (good/bad/cliché) …
Keep reading with a 7-day free trial
Subscribe to Being Alive to keep reading this post and get 7 days of free access to the full post archives.