Training becomes my anchor without me ever consciously deciding it will.
It slips into my life the way most things do now. Quietly. Without ceremony. Early mornings before the sun has fully committed to rising. Late nights when the rest of the pack is winding down and the training grounds empty out one by one. I show up when it is dark. I leave when it is dark again. Somewhere in between, my body learns what it can endure when there is no one watching closely enough to stop me.
At first, it is just habit. Something to fill the hours that would otherwise stretch too wide and too quiet. Something to burn off the leftover energy that settles in my chest when I try to rest.
“Back again?” one of the trainers says the third morning in a row, eyebrows lifting slightly as I jog onto the field b
