Running on Vitamin Z

Maya felt like a zombie. Actually, scratch that — zombies at least had the whole "undead" thing going for them. She was just undead-ing through junior year, functioning on autopilot and whatever energy remained from three hours of sleep.

"You need to take your vitamins," her mom said, sliding a Flintstones bottle across the kitchen counter. "You're running yourself into the ground."

Running. Yeah, that was the problem. Track practice until 5, AP Bio study group until 7, homework until whenever. Then repeat. The goldfish her brother won at the carnival last summer had more of a life plan than she did. That fish just swam in circles all day in its plastic bowl, and honestly? Same.

"Whatever," Maya muttered, grabbing the vitamin bottle and shoving it in her backpack.

At school, Jake was waiting by her locker, looking annoyingly fresh. "You coming to Bri's party tonight?"

"Can't. Track meet tomorrow. Coach says if I'm not there at 7 AM, I'm off the team."

"You're always running," Jake said, leaning against the locker next to hers. "Running to practice, running to class, running away from actually living."

The words hit harder than he meant them to. Because he wasn't wrong. She'd been zombie-walking through everything, never really present.

That night, Maya stared at the goldfish bowl. The fish was still doing its rounds, same as always, but something about it seemed different now. It wasn't just running in circles — it was exploring, even if it was the same small space. Making the most of things.

She grabbed her running shoes.

Not for practice. Not because Coach would kill her. Because she wanted to feel something other than zombie-tired.

The night air hit her lungs like electricity. She ran past Bri's house, heard music and laughter, didn't stop. She ran until her legs burned, until her thoughts untangled themselves into something clear.

The vitamins were still in her backpack. She'd take them tomorrow. But tonight, she was done running from everything.

The goldfish was still swimming when she got home. Maya sprinkled some flakes into the bowl.

"I feel you, little guy," she whispered.

For the first time in months, she didn't feel like a zombie. Just tired, human, and okay with that.