“Everybody's figuring that out the line between influencer and pro athlete. What are we expecting of our athletes here? And I want to be able to put my foot down and be like ‘no, I'm a pro athlete, I'm not an influencer. I don't care if I get paid less money for that.’” It’s about releasing from the dichotomy of expectation in social media — to feel like you should put on a show without knowing if anyone really cares. In which case, who is any of it for? 

“In our sport, we really want to treat our bodies as if they are machines that can just conform to the schedules that we put on them. But if we're being realistic, they're not. I don't think when I was younger I appreciated just how much stress it puts on your body to prepare really well for a marathon. It's hard on your body. It's hard on your brain.” 

When injury forced Molly to the edge of the elite running bubble there was a new understanding that her world was a fragile microcosm — injury providing a fast-track from the center to the periphery. “I think it really sunk in for me just how small my life had become. All of my friends are pro runners, and it was really hard to realize then, when I couldn't run, that I just I didn't have a social network.” That sudden awareness that the sport wouldn’t always be there as a crutch created a sense of isolation. “I really, really made a concerted effort to try and expand my life out. Who am I outside the sport? Who are my friends that aren't necessarily runners? I want to be able to be having conversations that aren't just about running.” This moment that felt like drifting into no man’s land was also an opportunity to escape. In the corniest way — to broaden horizons and, literally, find new paths.

“I don't love the word comeback because I think it feels like you're just reverting to your old form, and I think I am a very different person than I was. Sure, people can call it a comeback. I see it as like a progression in what I'm trying to do in my career.”