Dear Hampton,

I know you’ve been having a grand old time hanging out with me. I mean, who wouldn’t? I’m super fun. I go dancing (which doesn’t seem to bother you one bit). I ride my bike (also not a bother). I swim (only occasionally are you bothered). In general, I’m a pleasant leg host for you. However, as with many guests who overstay their welcomes it’s time for you to pack it up and find some other poor soul to free load off of. 

Yes our “trial” run on Saturday was not completely miserable but it did leave me feeling sore and confused. I mean you come on so strong and then you leave again. I need you to leave for good. I’ve got shit to do. Shit which requires your complete absence. 

I am hopeful that the times we’ve been with our “therapist” you have learned that I need my leg without your presence. I need it to run freely and joyfully like I did before you showed up. 

While I totally admit that your being here has made me much stronger on the bike and during swim but you have come in between me and my first true love, running. 

Since I have a race this weekend that I’m really looking forward to, I ask that you get out your Samsonite, fill it with your achey, throbby, weirdness and vamoose. Am-scray. Hit the road. Make like a tree  and – well you get the picture. 

I’d hate to sick Lloyd on you cause that would just hurt us both.