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in which I discover that I am not, in fact, usain bolt

The other night I went running. I know that for some people, running is a regular task, not worthy of commentary. They just run and then do that whole bounding into brunch thing, all glowy and endorphin-y, and say “great run, dude, up at sunrise and just really cleared my head, hey, yeah, I’d love a wheatgrass juice, thanks.” Blech. Let’s be clear. My body ain’t exactly built for speed. …