i bought my marathon shirt sometime in the fall of 1993. it’s a red-hooded sweatshirt, the kind of the kangaroo pocket and not the zipper. i love this shirt more than i love a lot of people.

the shirt is falling apart around me. there’s a hole right by the pocket and another random hole in the back (who gets holes in the back of their shirt?). but i still wear it. i try not to wear it too often. it can’t take such regular washing and wearing. so i only pull it out when i need it. like today when i’m still feeling kinda plague-y and filled with anxious dread. it’s like walking around in a hug.