@si jungkim
morning exercise
Every morning, before the sun had a chance to rise, Sam laced up his worn-out sneakers and stepped out into the cool, crisp air. The streets were quiet, save for the occasional hum of a distant car or the chirping of early birds. At first, the idea of jogging every day had seemed impossible. His legs had protested, his lungs had burned, and he had questioned why anyone would willingly do this. But he kept going. Day after day, the rhythm of his feet against the pavement became a meditation, a small ritual that grounded him. He noticed things he’d never seen before—the way the sunlight hit the leaves just so, the scent of fresh bread from the corner bakery, the friendly nod of a neighbor walking their dog. Slowly, jogging became more than exercise. It became a mirror of life itself: persistence mattered, small steps led to progress, and the world always looked brighter when approached with effort and care. Months passed, and Sam noticed subtle changes. His steps were lighter, his mind clearer, and his heart calmer. Friends began to notice his energy, his laughter more frequent, his presence warmer. He had started jogging for fitness, but he had stayed for the quiet joy of simply moving forward—every day, one step at a time. And every morning, as the sun peeked over the horizon, Sam ran—not just to grow stronger, but to celebrate the simple, beautiful act of being alive.
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