The color of the Red Square, the Kremlin is fitting — that of blood. And a poignant running story.

I have to admit: three months after Russia started its murderous war, I’ve got accustomed to the war. My senses are duller than back in February when the shock was all-consuming.

Often though I still experience over-the-top emotions. A couple of weeks ago I noticed on social media how some of my friends ran Moscow’s half marathon. I pay attention to all things running. I’m a runner. I think most runners are full of love and peace. Not that we don’t face problems and struggles, but we are so peaceful we barely compete with other fellow runners.

My friends posted their race pics against Moscow’s landmarks.

Blame me for overreacting, but I saw the familiar images of Moscow’s Red Square and thought: shit, I could never do that — live in that place, run in that place.

I ran in Moscow hundreds of times and maybe I should’ve felt sentimental seeing the images of runners in Moscow.

No. I felt darkness instead. Moscow has blood all over it. And when I say blood all over it, it’s not a figure of speech. The buildings where state officials make their decisions, the Russian people who support the war that’s destroying Ukraine’s cities, and killing its peaceful citizens, the police who detain peaceful protesters in Moscow — there is blood, death and oppression, written all over Moscow. Even as an immigrant Russian, I will struggle to get rid of the sense of…