Near the beginning of lockdown, I bought a Fitbit. I was curious about the usual things that people who buy Fitbits are: How many steps am I getting? Anywhere close to 10,000? Is my heart rate 8 zillion beats per minute, how it feels?

Turns out I didn’t realize how often I was holding my breath. Inadvertently and just because, for a second or two. Shallow. Stuttered. Belabored. Stunned.

Sometimes people ask why I so fervently insist on exercise. My reasons have evolved since 2001, when I first set foot in a gym for all the wrong reasons. Whatever the case, in March 2020, exercise regulated my breathing. Its purpose.

Also turns out we have nary a chance fighting algorithms designed to perpetuate anger and fear. Turns out lies travel years ahead of truth. And it turns out sudden Christmas lights on November 1 in pursuit of

J O Y

are totally a thing in my neighborhood.

Because achieving joy feels hard. Lights from Lowe’s won’t really do it. Not when we’ve been governed by hate and vitriol for four years + never letting go.

But we can do hard things. It might not feel like it now. But we can. You can. I can. We have to.