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If I had to write something memorable about each and every day, how would those moments accumulate?

Monday it was saying goodbye to my boot camp instructor. The part of the week I’ve most looked forward to since I started in September, the thought that I’m going to have to be really intentional in order to replace these 2 hours of my life.

Tuesday it was seeing Dear White People with Katie and Cristi, and sitting in the theater after listening to the appointed dialogue facilitator mistake “micro-aggressions” for “micro-transgressions”. It was me rubbing my eyes and saying “race is a social construction” to no one but myself, wondering how some of the students I recognized in the back were processing this. Wondering about identity and people and the way we react to one another with our ignorance.

Wednesday it was my run. I don’t run anymore like I used to. I did some quick weights and cardio and was feeling warm enough that I knew the cold and the slight drizzle wouldn’t bother me. I put on my old shoes and my headband and went out into the dark, into the empty damp streets. An old man stopped when he saw me come around the corner. I had him scared, I think, for a moment. He resumed his pace and said “hi.” A few moments later, I was balancing on the curb like a beam when a man in a tracksuit carrying two small lights jogged past, “evening.” Hello, sir.

I slept like a baby and I’m not sure yet what’s memorable about Thursday.

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