In the marathon of life, spring is a false flat. Just when you think you’ve taken the last blow from winter's cold, closed fists - BAM - back we go. It should be warm (it’s not). Or it should be fair (it’s hot). It should be in line with the forecast (it never is). What’s a girl to do!? Per usual, turn off the brain, fire up the persistence - and go running anyway.
We might not be able to control the weather, but we’re not going to let the weather control us.
ACT IV Scene I. On a table at PT clinic. Collier sits on the edge of a treatment table sans cast, boot, and calf muscle (we’ll toss in a quad, shrinking by the second, for kicks). After months of swimming and spinning her legs on the bike, in a desperate attempt maintaining a shred of aerobic fitness and a valiant effort to get her sweat on every day, the elusive “Return to Run Plan” has been brought to the table, deliberated over, and green lighted. We’re off to the races...
