Turns out I know myself just fine. I'm the most predictable trick in the book. Crave intimacy, get too close, freak out, drink, write, sleep, wake up feeling just as bad, take klonopin, go running. Down to a science. This time I'm actually quite impressed with my efficiency, and that I pulled off two 7-minute miles back to back. I haven't run for speed in so long it's tempting to turn my focus there next. The long runs just don't give me the intense cardio I need to reset my anxiety level. They provide a lot of time for thinking, but do I really need more of that?

Self-love looks like self-understanding first.

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