Making friends with your insomnia sometimes means just letting it have its way This morning–on a quick stopover in Rome before flying home from Italy to New York–I crept out of bed as quietly as possible, trying not to wake my sleep-deprived 10-year-old, made one cup of coffee in the bathroom, and laced up for a short run around Villa Borghese, which was happily close to hotel.

The paths in the park were as ragged as my sleep had been, but the views, as they crept into focus with the sunrise, made running slowly inevitable anyway.