Three months earlier, if someone had suggested Josh might consider training for Richmond’s annual 10K run, he would’ve laughed in their face. At thirty-three, he was overweight and out of shape, and the thought of running anywhere broke him out in a cold sweat. All those late nights eating pizza and drinking beers had settled into a band of fat around his midsection. Anyone who willingly entered a race of any length was crazy, Josh thought. No one would ever catch him at it.
Then came the chest pains.
They were innocuous at first, just slight little stabs when he moved a certain way. He told himself they were growing pains—they felt like them, anyway, the same little twinges of pain that used to shoot up his arms and down his legs when he was younger. Fifteen years younger, sure, but was
