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It arrives akin to an unexpected guest. It sneaks up on you, which makes it even more odious; it rains on your parade, it precipitates things, it makes you lose patience.

Anxiety piele anti-îmbătrânire gratuită the ominous lump in the armpit of reverte face it anti-aging cream bestellen. They are props, true, but in a narrative that is not meant to deceive.

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You stop distinguishing colors and textures as if they no longer interest you. When people speak, their words do not register.

This file has been truncated, but you can view the full file. This file contains bidirectional Unicode text that may be interpreted or compiled differently than what appears below. To review, open the file in an editor that reveals hidden Unicode characters. Learn more about bidirectional Unicode characters Show hidden characters it was a bright cold day in Apriland the clocks were striking thirteen.

Their sound expands to monstrous proportions, alter beyond recognition. So you begin to go through a list of things that are supposed to help you. Name five things you can see: the faces of my fellow commuters early in the morning, moving to the rhythm of their broken dreams. My heart is racing, and my breath frigider anti-imbatranire elvetian ieftin uneven, struggling to catch up.

My chest is collapsing in on itself. Focus on your breathing, feel the air going up your nostrils, become aware of the ser anti-imbatranire it makes at the back of your throat.

I imagine myself fainting, their worried faces looking down on me, asking me whether I had had anything to eat and I make a list, ashamed of this quasi-confession.

A banana, yogurt, cereals. They disapprove of it, they nod at each other akin to priests who have seen immorality unfurl. What else can you see? I see him coming in through the door.

I feel like throwing up, light beams hanging down from the ceiling like icicles. Do I count from one to five or the other way around?

The god in the machine at the end of a movie. The red handle of the emergency brake. Are these enough or do I need more? Name three things you can hear: the woman next to me is complaining about something on the phone.

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I lose count. I hear the valves of the air conditioning opening and closing above me. Reality is made of video strips working in unison. I can see where the pieces meet.

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I can smell your sweat, the softener on your clothes. And, finally, name one thing you can taste: the salty flavor of your tongue as it explores my mouth. This bundle of flesh and bones I carry around with me, which obstinately demands things and is open reverte face it anti-aging cream bestellen temptation and addiction, will never fully reveal itself to me, which is akin to having a bag full of stuff I will never be able to know or use to their full potential.

The exertion of intense physical exercise also reveals how capricious the body can be. Every moment now it might throw a tantrum, object vehemently to something I want to do. I might develop some tumor, somewhere, and that will feel like an unexpected invasion and a betrayal on the part of the medical establishment.

I might lose my hair at one point in the future, but there is no way to know when that will happen. My teeth will decay no matter what pro-expert toothpaste or mouthwash I use, or how many times I make an appointment with my dentist. Every gesture meant to appease these tantrums or counteract these objections is a form of loitering in the neighborhood of old age, and each of those gestures is somewhat an acknowledgment of defeat.

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Small physical alterations compound like coins in a piggy bank. A crease here, a wrinkle there, a cluster of Fordyce spots on my upper lip. They all accrue like a crowd at a concert. I can still develop healthy habits. There will come a time when a salad for dinner, and not a plate of pasta or a pizza, will seem like the natural choice at the end of a fatiguing day. I only need to get a grip on myself and eat mindfully, like all those highly successful people one encounters in self-help books.

Soon, I might tell myself ominously. Lying dormant, waiting to be aroused, somewhere just behind the sternum, where anxieties cleave black holes that gnaw at my breath. Running reveals all this and more, it is the friction of change.

Ai fost blocat(ă) temporar

Constructive abrasion. Then, I wake up one morning and notice that my skin sags in certain places or that a vein has decided to break free and blossom beneath the surface of the skin stretching between the talus and the calcaneus.

The secret is not to let rancor seep in, or see these symptoms of time passing as a form of treachery. Accept them, wear them with pride the way you ought to reverte face it anti-aging cream bestellen your heart, on your sleeve, and the others will unwittingly accept them as well. Besides, most of them can be hidden underneath a shirt: clothing flattens irregular forms, standardizes them, generates recognizable categories for us to inhabit.

Tapered, slim, skinny, regular, loose, large, extra-large, and other variations. Clothes are the low-cost version of suburbia and area codes. Some of those bodily imperfections will only be revealed in reverte face it anti-aging cream bestellen, which is always a form of exchange. Meaningful intimacy requires time, which, to me at least, is not necessarily a whim, or a form of procrastination that betrays prudeness or bashfulness, but rather a ritual of preparation akin to tantric practices.

Time precedes acceptance; it builds desire. In the flight or fight economy, the time we grant each other is the less aggressive form of the latter. With all your imperfections, you can do anything you want to do! And like most bullies, the more you let it shove you around, the pushier it gets. Long-distance running is one of those activities you go to on your own; you discover something with each step you take. Perhaps what I like most about running is its offer of mindful solitude.

Your sense of fatigue suddenly becomes urgent in a way that may be unknown to you. Each mistake, however insignificant, will feel like a proof of your inherent inability to perform such an activity.

Or finish what you cele mai bune produse anti-îmbătrânire pentru fumători. Running turns time into space, which becomes meaty, viscous, dense. Doing the same track repeatedly enforces this transformation.

You pick milestones that soon morph into markers of progress. The circularity mitigates whatever anxieties you might have. You revisit places that felt differently. Eyes turned inwardly, I see my failed relationships and count all those instances in which I felt unlovable and alone. And they all come and go because running forces you to move away, literally, from everything. It wants you on your knees, begging for mercy, pining for relief. Running suggests solitude, one that is free of rancor.

When I run alone, everything becomes porous, space is suddenly welcoming, distances expand, and contract, they become markers of success, not generators of exhaustion. My body carves its way through all this, uncovering layers, refuting hypotheses, and creating new ones. Air becomes functional once more, achingly so, as my reverte face it anti-aging cream bestellen struggle for breath. I did try it in the past, and the feeling is exquisite, especially when you all get to demachiant de laborator anti-imbatranire the benefits of a good workout, but I also feel like I need to entertain the other person, which can be a drag.

Talking while running feels wastefully extravagant, akin to talking on the phone with a person who is in the next room. The sounds of exertion: panting, hitting the ground, grunting, the accelerating heartbeat; they outline a vocabulary that commands attention. The mind might branch out; it is the rhythmic breath that brings it back to the ground, rooting it into the realities of the body.

The side stitches, the numbing pain in the thighs, the thirst, they all claim dominion over your attention. Long runs also make my nipples bleed when I wear the wrong kind of t-shirt, and to some that might resemble gratuitous violence.

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Music is, after all, a form of companionship for the lonely. They listen to the beat of their footsteps, birds singing, the wind in the trees and all that. When Spotify introduced its running playlists, with music that matches your tempo, I was ecstatic because running suddenly felt like dancing, another activity that is both solitary and blatantly visible.

Sometimes, though, I pause the music and listen to the thrum of my heart the way medical students listen to sound recordings to train their ear for the broken beat, to distinguish the healthy from the defective.

The sound of it is meaty, internal, and slightly detached, akin to the speech of an alien race, or the muffled slosh of wet ground.

Running is the sullen travel companion. Humans evolved to become endurance runners, giving up speed for distance.

Dogs can run fast, but they have to stop to cool down after a while, and they do that by sticking their tongues out. We can keep going because our bodies can thermoregulate through sweat and breathing, and in terms of energy consumption, running can be cheaper than walking.

We ride the momentum, our legs acting as springs propelling us upward and forward, we jump and fall to the ground, working with gravity the way chemists mix substances to obtain something new. So Dennis and I started talking about how, when these pigs ran, their heads bobbed every which way and how running humans are really adept at stabilizing their heads.

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We realized that there were special features in the human neck that enable us to keep our heads still. That gives us an evolutionary advantage because it helps us avoid falls and injuries.

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And this seemed like evidence of natural selection in our ability to run, an important factor in how we became hunters rather than just foragers and got access to richer foods, which fueled the evolution of our big brains. I began running on a treadmill at the gym about five years ago at the extreme end of a homemade that is, punishing weight-loss program that verged on becoming an eating disorder.

I had reduced my calorie intake to the point where a cup of milk for breakfast and steamed broccoli for lunch felt as if I had indulged ulei pentru riduri nazolabiale and needed to be punished by not eating anything else for the rest of the day.

In time, the punishment began to feel reasonable, a form of atonement for all those years of gluttony. It felt like adulthood, a way to assume responsibility for how I looked. I downloaded cooking apps on my iPad and saved tens of recipes.

They were all for later, I would reassure myself. I watched videos of other people preparing food with the fascination one develops for a fetish. Do these people know, I often wondered, how much harm food can inflict? Are they aware of how hard it is to shed the guilt that comes with it?

I convinced myself that cooking was akin to treading on dangerous ground because through it, I would revert to my old habits of eating mindlessly.