At my place of worship, I was shrouded by the intermingled smell of cleaner and perspiration. A puddle of sweat broadened under me like a small pond. I was entirely unaware of how pathetic I appeared: The emaciated girl running furiously with a half-crazed/ half-stoned look in her eye running as if from a murderer. When I occasionally surfaced from my trance, I averted my eyes from each person who passed my sweat-soaked elliptical-altar, knowing the concerned, yet slightly disgusted look that other gym-goers would give me if our eyes connected.
Join me at Annesley Writers to read the rest of this article as I share about my experience in the prison of exercise addiction and how God has used my body’s breakdown to bring healing and peace to my heart and mind: Satisfied in the Temple.
The Beautiful Broken 