“Miranda, why are you sharing this blurry photo? Don’t you know Instagram is for curated perfection?” Ha! Screw that nonsense. I’m sharing it because this blurry, sweaty, messy, imperfect picture is just about the most perfect representation of ME I can think of in this moment. Because I’m proud of this blurry, sweaty, messy, imperfect human. A year ago, I was in the midst of probably one of my lowest mental health states in a decade. I didn’t talk about it; what was the point? This summer it reached a fever pitch and my entire body screamed “MOVE! For fuck’s sake, just MOVE!” I have never in my life experienced such a visceral need to be anything but still while also knowing that the movement my body craved was frantic and frenetic. Frantic and frenetic scared me as much as my anxiety and the sense of dread that was steeped into my bones. We bought the bike. (I had anxiety about asking to buy the bike. clarissalaskey and suzanne_c_davis encouraged me to do it anyway.) The bike ...