My brother informs me that my pace isn't running--it's jogging. As far as I'm concerned, if the motion caused by this physical activity requires me to wear a sports bra, then it's running, honey. My starting pace is 10mm. I tell myself I have a long way to go--there's no rush. Slow and steady. But in my head my competition is passing me, breezing
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You wrote beautifully about life in there.
I'm sorry your best friends fiance hates you. :/
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Hopefully the hate is a temporary thing. It's hard because his way of lashing out at people is a pattern in his life, and someday it'll be directed at her. But I have no idea how to tell her this, to tell her she shouldn't be marrying him. She's very very much in love.
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