"Running Isn't My Hobby. It's My Medicine."

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    "Running Isn't My Hobby. It's My Medicine." I've been reading Nexus by Yuval Noah Harari. He says humans are storytelling animals. Money is a story. Nations are stories. Religion is a story. When enough people believe in the same story, that belief becomes fact — and eventually, reality. Reading this, a strange thought crossed my mind. What if the worries I carry every day are just stories too? Sometimes, when I'm sitting still and doing nothing, an unwelcome visitor slips into my thoughts. "What if I lose my income? How would I survive?" That one sentence pulls me under. One thought leads to another, and before I know it, I'm drowning in anxiety. On those days, I'm almost afraid to go home — afraid the weight of it will seep into my wife, afraid my kids will somehow inherit this part of me and struggle because of it. But when I stop and think clearly, none of it makes sense. There's no enemy in front of me. I'm n...

I Started Running Because I Couldn’t Keep Going (A Middle-Aged Beginning)


Most people don’t start running for a cool, inspiring reason.

I didn’t either.

It wasn’t because I wanted to get fitter,
and it wasn’t because I dreamed of running a marathon.

Before I ever thought, “I should exercise,”
I felt something stronger first:

I can’t keep going like this.

A cold that used to disappear in a day or two
wouldn’t go away even after a month.

It felt like I had to do something—anything.

So I started moving.


1. Constant overseas business trips

In my early 30s,
I spent more than 150 days a year on overseas business trips.

It was a small company.
Paid leave was more of a rumor than a policy.

When I came back from a trip,
I went straight to work the next day.

After about two and a half years,
something changed.

Every time I returned from a trip,
I’d feel like I was coming down with the flu.

“Sir, I’m going to the hospital to get an IV drip. I’ll be back.”

Trip → IV drip → work.
That became my routine.


2. My body started acting strange

When I was packing shipments for overseas delivery,
I’d tape cardboard boxes nonstop—almost without thinking.

Then I noticed something small but unsettling.

The skin around my arms—where the boxes brushed against me—
would turn red almost instantly.

And a thought hit me, out of nowhere:

Ah… my body is at its limit.


3. “Can I sign up for a gym?”

After getting married,
I almost never paid money for anything I actually stuck with.

There were only two exceptions.

One was an English conversation class.
It was an early-morning class—and I went about three times.

The other was a boxing gym.
Evening classes—and I went about six times.

Even that happened when my wife was about
seven months pregnant with our second child.

Looking back, I was unbelievably immature.

And still, I asked her:

“Can I sign up for a gym?”

She didn’t hesitate.

“I’m not investing money in you anymore.
Think about everything you’ve done so far.
Why? So you can quit again after 3 or 4 days?”

There was a brief silence—very brief—
and then she added one condition.

“Then run at the kids’ school track for three months.
If you can do that, I’ll let you sign up.”

I had a lot to make up for,
so I agreed.


4. And it was winter

I woke up before dawn
and stared into the darkness outside my window.

It’s freezing even inside…
Do I really have to go out?

If I quit again,
I’d look like a completely hopeless person.

So I pulled on some clothes,
put on gloves,
and headed to the elementary school track near my home.

A few elderly people were already there,
quietly walking around the dark field.

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