What are you waiting for?

5:30 AM.

In the quiet of the waiting room, I sit, anticipating the scan of my knee.

At this juncture, uncertainty clouds my mind. Will they perform the operation? And if they do, will I ever be able to run again?

Naturally, thoughts arise that perhaps I shouldn't have taken so many risks. Maybe I should have been more cautious. I am aware.

Many are quick to remind me of this. They promptly recount how they warned me countless times. In their words, I perceive a sense of satisfaction in holding the truth while simultaneously justifying their own laziness.

Yet, amidst it all, I catch glimpses of that kiss on the ground in Huasca, marking the culmination of my journey through the mountains. I recall Monica's embrace after completing my first 15k, as well as the countless runs we shared.

What can be said of the silly conversations with my children as we pedaled together? The ethereal and heated and discussions with siblings. Those newfound friends, crazier than me, discovered in the midst of a leisurely jog. And those tears that carried me when my mother passed away.

The joy of exploring unfamiliar towns and cities, or better yet, rediscovering those I thought I knew.

Discovering that my sister nature is both mother and daughter, robust and delicate, pristine and desecrated. And that our seemingly insignificant human body astonishes skeptics when willpower blooms and takes control.

I have been a mole a thousand times over, but I have also soared high as an eagle. I have traversed infernos and braved freezing temperatures. I have propelled entire schools forward. I have learned that the extraordinary lies hidden within the ordinary; that the first three kilometers are more grueling than the last three. And I remember that one day I overtook a chubby guy who was myself.

Life, I can see now, is embraced kilometer by kilometer. For every uphill, there’s a downhill. That one should have no fear, except the one to stay seated at home—lacking the courage to forge lasting memories. Races taught me that our true strength is realized when confronted by our greatest weaknesses.

So, call me stubborn, but I wouldn't change a thing. If this journey were to culminate here, I assure you, I would press repeat time and time again. I will seek out new challenges, relentlessly.

And this is perhaps the final lesson: I may not be able to run again. But you, what are you going to do that would hurt so much if you had to let it go? What will be that thing you'll never regret doing? What are you waiting for?