If only he ran more... If only he was more athletic... If only he did more burpees. If only Ernest Hemingway, a mostly revered writer, had exercised just five minutes more every day then maybe the world wouldn’t have lost him to the sea of depression and eventually-- death. It’s nice to imagine that if Ernest had been a gym rat, that he would’ve been bursting at the seams with words of profound hope. Or, that if he had realized alcohol was serving his depression more than productivity, then maybe he would have turned working out into a fun drinking game in which he would take a swig for every five push-ups done. Or perhaps, he would have found a gym partner in Sylvia Plath...Heaven knows they both could have used the endorphins. Either way, the moral of the story from Mr. Hemingway’s unfortunate ending teaches us that when it feels like there are no words left to write, turn around and go for a run.
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