It’s been fourteen weeks and five days. That’s 2,472 hours since she last put on her running shoes. 103 days of frustration. After all this rest, her hamstring should have been healed. Dr. McHot is cute and all, but he’s about as helpful as her mother. “You’ll just have to keep on resting it.” She’s tired of resting. She’s sick of the lethargy dragging her down. She wants to lace up those shoes and face the road in front of her. To feel the dread of aches and pains and anticipate the joy of that runner’s high. To take that first step out in the crisp morning air.
She just wants to run.
