The most effective way to cleanse yourself of your fears, inhibitions, mistakes, regrets… is to run. Run physically, run mentally, run incessantly, and run passionately.

Today marks the last day of my week-long spring break, and my greatest regret about spring break is that I did not run, in any sense of the word. Something I failed to recognize and appreciate is that running, in any sense of the word, is best done in youth, and we will never be younger than we are now.

Because of my reluctance to run, spring break was far from the renewal I expected it to be. Not only did exercise become an undesirable, rare commodity, but I also found myself unmotivated to socialize (save a few nice, intimate meet-ups), unwilling to explore the nooks and crannies of my town or state, uninspired to engage in creativity while at home. There is a gorgeous Steinway grand piano in the living room of my house, and over the course of the entire week I touched it only once. I found myself slouching on the sofa most days, hunched over the computer, indulging in the latest BuzzFeed quiz or the newest Jimmy Fallon Youtube video or the horrifying 2048 trend.

Physically and mentally, I became motionless. Motionlessness initially felt comforting, reassuring, almost euphoric, especially after half a semester of the craziest stress I have ever felt as a college student. Paralysis allowed for deep thought. A direct result of deeper thought, however, is deeper disillusionment. Deeper fear. Deeper self-doubt. The most important reason to run is that silence wreaks more havoc on our optimism, on our well-being, than the busiest commotion. I began to feel utterly depressed about my prospects in work, friends, life. I began to have traces of questioning the purpose of my staying on this earth. My train of thought reached a dangerous, almost deadly destination. I needed a break from this break.

Thus, the very first thing I did upon arriving back to Harvard was not to unpack, not to start long-procrastinated homework, not to answer emails. Instead, I ran. I ran like mad, and in every way possible. I ran physically, along the Charles River from Harvard Square to Boston University and back. I ran mentally, blasting electronica in my ears and being carried away to a bottomless pit of musical utopia, the rhythms of my thought harmonizing with the infinity of the river waves. I ran incessantly, continuing to run even with a cramp crystallizing at my abdomen and with a blister forming at the sole of my right foot, because I knew running was something I had to do, the long-lost optimism just within reach. I ran passionately, feeling the burden of motionlessness peel off layer by layer, feeling the doors finally letting free my soul, my peace of mind.