In October of my junior year of high school, I was at the top of my cross-country game. I was running five to six days a week, knocking more and more time off my mile split, and gearing up for a big race that would finally prove I had what it took to hit varsity status. So when opportunities arose to run a few extra miles and push myself harder, I took them without a second thought.
Then came the day of the race. I’d been noticing some pain and throbbing in my shins for a few days, but assumed I just had shin splints—something I’d dealt with many times in the past. So
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