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A poem I wrote in late April 2019, after returning from a 10 day solo hiking trip in Japan.
Three words stand out to me from the headline of Nicholas Thompson’s essay: Marathon. 44. And past.
You have to start somewhere. And for a long time, I didn’t want to admit that I needed to start.
It somehow circled back to the face mask. My first interaction in the place was muffled by the absence of facial cues. The front desk monk scared me rather than making me feel welcome.