I ran for 10.5 miles today. I ran because I didn't want to face the emotional pain of leaving my boyfriend, friends, and family for 90 days to a year at a rehab in another city.

I ran to turn the emotional pain into physical pain. To turn a sense of abandonment and loss into weak knees. To turn memories of birthdays and trips into sore thighs. To turn tears into sweat.

And it worked.

But it won't work forever. I need to be changed. I need this rehab. I WANT this rehab. I've spent the better part of my twenties fighting this disease and it's taken my health, my finances, and my career. I know that if it continues, it will take my heart, my humor, and my hope. If I continue this way, I'll give even more of my life away to this terrible drug.

This drug wasn't created by God and it doesn't grow on the trees that surround the running trail. Meth is fake, synthetic, false, and lies. Meth tells me I can run farther and faster, but will only slow me down and catch me.

So I'll catch myself this time. I'll run to the things I don't know. To the life I want, but don't know how to live. It's a different type of race with no finish line and where the pain will pass. Instead of a drug turning me around, my heavy breathing and heavy heart build up the strength to surrender.

I pray to God this is the last time. I can't (won't) do this anymore. I'm beaten and this a good place to be. The hardest part is ahead and if I do it right, I get to choose the path I'll run from here.

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