
The alarm is set for 3:30am, but I’ve been awake in anticipation for the last two hours. My heart is racing from the thought that today I’ll be running in my first Half-Marathon.
Grateful for having set out my clothes the night before, I get dressed in the pitch dark as quietly as possible, so as not to disturb my fellow hostel bunk-mates who have just fallen asleep from Saturday night’s revelries.
After an internal debate over whether or not to eat anything, I decide against it, tie the laces on my tread-bare sneakers, and head into the steamy abyss
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