Cosmos （１）

I used to run every day while gazing at the majestic Arakawa River. I was dressed in black Adidas top and bottom running clothes, keeping a steady stride, a steady pace, and staring at one point. When running in that area, I would pass many runners. Some of them are running with their clothes on and their faces in agony, but this kind of running is disgraceful. One day, I started running again. It all started when I casually picked up a magazine in a bookstore that featured aerobic exercise. I bought it. I bought it because it was interesting. The next day, I was running right away. Over the next few years, I became a full-fledged weekend runner. Of course, I was nowhere near the level of an athlete, but I was more serious than I should have been, studying diligently to beat my times. In time, my reading of not only books on jogging, but also on meditation and religious thought on the mind and body, which had nothing to do with running, suddenly skyrocketed. It was a bit dangerous. At that time, I firmly believed that all is well what kind of depression I faced, running would immediately refresh me and I would be fine. Or perhaps that's what I told myself. Now, when I think of those years when I devoted myself to jogging with all my heart and soul, I feel as if I might have been punished in some way. I feel as if I might have been punished in some way. As soon as I stopped working, I stopped running.