The Day I Stopped Running

My alarm went off at 5:45 AM, and I honestly felt like a zombie. Not the cool, dramatic kind from movies—the walking, barely functional kind that survives on caffeine and spite. Junior year was absolutely eating me alive, and I was just trying to survive until spring break.

"You're running again?" Maya asked as I slipped into my track hoodie in the dark kitchen. She was leaning against the counter, looking annoyingly awake for someone who'd been up until 2 AM scrolling through TikTok.

"Yeah. Coach says if I want varsity next year, I need to shave thirty seconds off my mile time." I grabbed an apple and headed for the door. "You want to come?"

Maya snorted. "Hard pass. Some of us enjoy sleep."

The morning air was biting cold, perfect weather for a run. I liked running because it was simple—you put one foot in front of the other, and eventually you get somewhere. Unlike everything else in my life, which felt like this complicated mess of expectations and awkward conversations and constantly worrying if I was doing everything wrong.

I was about two miles in when I saw it.

Our school mascot—a giant fiberglass bear that usually stood proudly in front of the main entrance—was sitting in the middle of the football field. Someone had dragged it all the way there, which was honestly impressive considering it weighed like two hundred pounds.

I stopped running and just stared at it. The bear's painted eyes seemed to stare back, looking ridiculous and strangely perfect. Someone had taped a sign to its chest that said "FREE HUGS."

My phone buzzed in my pocket. A group chat notification from the track team:

jackson: WHO MOVED THE BEAR??

kevin: not me but whoever did is legend

ntalia: omg it's been in front of the school since like 1985 this is ICONIC

I stood there, catching my breath, watching the sun come up over the bleachers, and I started laughing. Like, actually laughing, not just doing that polite half-smile thing I did when someone made a joke I didn't really get. This dumb, perfect moment—the bear on the fifty-yard line, the group chat blowing up, the fact that I was supposed to be shaving thirty seconds off my mile time but instead was just standing there appreciating the absolute chaos of it all.

Maya was right. Some things were more important than sleep.

And some things were more important than constantly running toward the next thing, always worried about what came next. Sometimes you just had to stop and appreciate a stolen mascot in the middle of a football field.

I took a picture and sent it to the group chat. Then I started running again, but slower this time. The sun was fully up now, casting long gold shadows across the field, and for the first time in months, I didn't feel like a zombie at all.

I felt awake.