From my guitar that has had a broken string for over two years, to the tattoo of a microphone I got on my forearm, I am constantly reminded of dreams and dedication I once had. I was worried that my trend of passing passions had come for my running. When my collegiate career ended with an injury and a whimper of a race, I was done. I still enjoyed the sport, but the prospect of more workouts, sore muscles, lactic acid, and shin splits didn’t sound as sweet to the ears as it had in the past. So, I packed up my car and traveled to San Franc...