Sometimes I leave the house, pay the child care, and run round the track at our tiny neighborhood community center. It’s called exercise: this monotonous plodding round and round.

Fourteen laps is one mile.

For inspiration and distraction, I listen to music as I jog the endless circuit. I pick adrenaline as I lag, interest to keep enduring, or awesome bass for confidence.

Still, I need to run. I need to run the same path. I need to run the same path fourteen times. I need to run the same path fourteen times with only myself to think to, and the songs to divert me.

Life is repeated monotony, and I try to switch to a different track whenever the boring frustration drives me crazy! -even that, in a repeated pattern, though.
There is no escaping the circuit, but it needs to be the cog of life and not a mouse exercise wheel.

I always play the same song for my final lap. I get excited to hear it, and know my heart rate increases in anticipation of finally getting to sprint one instead of shuffle-jog thirteen. The introduction plays, and I nearly Whoop! aloud.

Get a song to anticipate, a time to finally reward yourself, a goal to sustain you through the doldrums. Otherwise; you’ll break stride, stop for a drink, excuse yourself to favor a small pain, check your phone, or push too hard in panic and not have the energy for your favorite parts.

And you won’t want to miss your favorite parts.