I didn't notice the extra run becoming a rule until the day I tried to break it.
Work ran late on Wednesday. A grant meeting spilled past closing, and I missed the group session. By the time I got home, I was tired and hungry. My body asked for dinner. My mind told me to lace up.
I ate a bowl of soup, then changed into running clothes.
The night was cold and clear. I told myself I was only going for twenty minutes. At twenty, I kept going. I wanted to burn off the bread I'd eaten with dinner. I wanted to prove that missing a scheduled workout didn't mean I was slipping.
A mile later, my knee twinged.
I turned around. At home, I stood in front of the bathroom mirror and lifted my shirt to check my stomach. The scale sat beneath the sink. I stepped on it.
The number was higher than it
