As time passed, we began to feel like we were on the way. He got over the wall. He was still having stress-induced asthma every time he ran, and that was a huge concern, but I kept feeling confident that on the day of the run he would somehow push through it. We juggled everything: the business, the dog, my schedule, his schedule, late-night dinners on a Friday.
We had found a rhythm.
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I'm enjoying your writing and there's something different about it I'm having a hard time pin-pointing, but this post captures it. There's a poetry there.
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