With as much running as I do, it should be easy to lose that extra ten pounds hanging out around my hips, but alas, that hasn’t happened yet. Of course, I only run when I'm left with no other option. Like when I realize I’m not ready to marry my fiancé. . . that I don’t even want to be with him anymore. Those instances are when I run the fastest, which is how I end up taking a summer for myself. I leave it all, my job, my apartment, Greg. . . if it can’t fit in my suitcase, it stays behind—and I’m okay with that. I can always find a new job and place to live, but before I do, I have to find myself. Unfortunately, the small beach town I escape to gives me way more than I bargained for and before long, the urge to run returns. This time is different though. I’m not running because my dud of a relationship fizzled out and left me bored. I’m running because of them—three hot dads with the experience and moves to flip my life upside down. They have everything to offer, but I’m not sure I’m the right woman to take it. Besides, I have too much baggage as it is. I don’t see how I can add anything else to my new start, especially anything that comes with pigtails and preschool. . .