I am a runner. That’s what I do. That’s who I am. Running is all I know, or want, or care about.
Girls don’t fight fair. They pull your hair and gauge you and pinch you; then they run off gasping to mommy when you try and defend yourself with a fist. Then you get locked into time out, and for what? No, my friend, the secret is, don’t snap at the bait. Let it dangle. Swim around it. Laugh it off. After a while they’ve given up and try to lure someone else.
That’s the funny thing about running. The deceptive thing about it. It may seem mindless, but its really mental. If the minds strong, the body acts weak, even if its not.
Then a few months ago I found myself talking to the tree. An entire conversation, just me and a tree. And on the climb down I felt like crying. Why didn’t I have someone real to talk to? Why didn’t I have a best friend like everyone else seemed to? Sure, there were kids I knew at school, but none of them were close friends. They’d have no interest in climbing the tree. In smelling the sunshine.
Repetition. Effort. Pain. Success. There really is no shortcut.
It was nice, though, riding with my father. It was like the silence connected us in a way that explanations never could.
Which I guess is better than her playing her usual role in How I Ruined My Daughter’s Life.
My life is over. Behind.
The finish line comes into view and you will yourself toward it, but the wind pushes you back, and your body begs you to give up, and the whole world seems to grind into slow motion. Your determination is all that’s left. It forces your muscles to fire. Forces you to stay in the race. Forces you to survive the pain of this moment.
It’s to have people see her instead of her condition. That’s all that anybody with a disability wants. Don’t sum up the person based on what you see, or what you don’t understand; get to know them.
The choices you make now will affect you for the rest of your life. Do the right thing.
I hate t see you swim out so far you can’t swim back.
One by one by one by one. That’s how I got through losing a leg. Minute by minute by minute by minute. Hour by hour by hour by hour. Day by day by day by day. That’s how anybody makes it through anything.
Man, talk about having a skeleton in the closet – this.
You don’t have to be an immediate expert at everything, Juli. The idea here is to learn something new.
The first day I met Bryce Loski, I flipped. Honestly, one look at him and I became a lunatic. It’s his eyes. Something in his eyes. They’re blue, and framed in the blackness of his lashes, they’re dazzling. Absolutely breathtaking.
This is the kind of silence that connects us in a way that words never could.
Today I’ve been considering how life’s journey is not about the distance we move our feet, but how we are moved in our heart.
I’ve never thought about Who I want to be. The question has always been What do you want to be?
Anger is a dry riverbed. You should follow it only if it leads you to the springs of forgiveness.
Conquering the wild is nothing compared to fixing the cracks in your heart.