The voices start before I take my running shoes out of my backpack: You don’t have to do it today. It’s muddy out there; you’ll probably slip and fall.
I pull out my sports bra, leggings, and top, then change in the bathroom at work, where I have been on my feet for six hours.
It’s not like you sit at a desk all day. Your feet are tired now; how will running help?
I lace my sneakers and head out the door, taking my first steps and beginning to breathe in a rhythm.
What’s the point? You still haven’t lost any weight. You should go home and clean the house.
