There are days when my mind won’t stop racing— to-do lists, memories, and what-ifs all jumbled together like tangled shoelaces. On those days, I lace up and run or go to the gym for a workout. Not to escape, but to find stillness in motion. Exercising is one thing that always lifts my spirit, even if sometimes getting out the front door is the hardest thing to do. That’s what I call my mental miles—the steady rhythm of my feet on the pavement ( or trails ) becomes a heartbeat I can trust when my mind is all over the place. Running didn’t start as a mental health tool for me. At first, it was fitness, a challenge, a new hobby. But life has a way of handing you moments you’re not sure how to carry. For me, running became the space where I processed grief, quietened anxiety, and found clarity. It’s where I’ve cried, laughed out loud to myself, and had more “aha!” moments than I can count. Each mile became less about pace and more about peace. There’s something deep...