Photo by Emma Simpson on Unsplash

I remember my breath tasted funny…like potato chips. As I huffed around the perimeter of the middle school’s field hockey and football fields, I could detect the starchy flavor in the back of my throat and tried to imagine that I was settling down with a can of Pringles rather than attempting the mile run for my gym class. Despite my powerful imagination, no luck. I couldn’t take myself out of that plodding pace over the dirt. I was stuck in my body, one I didn’t…