There are mornings I step outside and let the world blur. Not because I’ve forgotten my glasses, but because I’ve chosen not to wear them. There’s something honest in the haze—edges softened, distractions dulled. I run like that sometimes. Not to escape, but to remember that clarity isn’t always about sharpness. Sometimes, it’s about trust. Trusting that the path is still there, even when I can’t see every crack in the pavement. Trusting that forward is still forward, even when the lines are fuzzy. Today, I run without glasses—not to see less, but to feel more.
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