How do I explain that my city won’t always be my city?
My roots are normally planted in Minnesota, surrounded by cornfields, pine trees and long country roads, the perfect rural setting. In the winter snow heavily blankets the ground and the temperatures are bitterly cold. I run on these country roads through snow, rain and sunshine, putting in the miles, my feet pounding the pavement.
But I am not there.
I am here, in a city half way across the world
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