On exercise

I was on my third episode of Dawson’s Creek when it happened. I was just laying there, astonished by the antics of Dawson and Pacey, when I began to feel it. The urge, the pull, the itch, whatever you want to call it. All of a sudden I had to run. Had to.
I paused the show, frantically dressed and gathered my shoes and iPod, afraid the feeling would slip away.
I was out the door and moving, not sure where my feet were carrying me. I took off faster than normal, bobbing through the early afternoon crowd I never encountered on my morning jogs.
Twenty-four minutes later I was climbing the stairs back to my front door, feeling a satisfactory burn in my lungs and fatigue in my legs. I smiled, a sense of accomplishment spreading through me. I did it. 

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