I’m happiest when I’m moving. I don’t mean riding the train to work, or signing a new apartment lease. I mean physically pushing my body. Getting sweaty. Going for a mind-clearing run. Boxing. Barre. Bootcamp. Strolling. Whatever.
My exercise-induced endorphin high is the antidote to my stress spirals, which go like this: I write a lengthy to-do list. I stare at it until I feel paralyzed. Then I crumble from the stress of feeling paralyzed. So I work out ferociously—an intermission in the panic show. Rinse, repeat. (Click Here For More...)
