One-Hour Traveler

 “Sat morning are we going for coffee in AC?”

…says a text from my brother Mark, at 9:45 on a Thursday night.

It’s short for “Will you meet me in Atlantic City on Saturday morning so I can drop off my car before a 65-mile bike ride on Sunday? That way I’ll be able to drive myself home afterward. Also, let’s leave early to beat the shore traffic. And yes, I’ll buy you a coffee.”

I know what he means. We do it every year.

And yet, the idea rattles me. I’m caught between anticipation for our small tradition and apprehension over giving up my morning routine.

Yes, even for one day...

Time Flies

Air travel makes time do weird things.

Like always, I arrive at the airport early — even though this is Vermont, and the airport has only 13 gates. After a quick trip to celebrate my niece’s birthday, it’s time to head home.

For an amputee like me, everything takes more time: going through security, stopping at the restroom, adjusting my prosthetic, stowing my crutches in the overhead bin, and folding my leg into the airplane seat which — despite being labeled as “extra leg room” — does not seem spacious at all.

By the time we’re ready to take-off, it’s hard to believe I’m still where I started...

Nick's Pick

“Get ready for Nick’s pick!” my dad would announce from the driver’s seat.

We were zooming down the Pennsylvania Turnpike toward our cousins’ house: Mom in the front with Dad, Andy in the carseat, and Mark and I on either side of him in the back.

Outside our windows, a blur of trees, smear of guard rail, and long, flat building raced by.

We all squinted, waiting for what came next...

iLost, iFound, i('ll) Keep Walking

In the Rijksmuseum of Amsterdam, I reach for my water bottle and realize my entire backpack is missing.

My stomach drops, and my mouth becomes immediately, completely, excrutiatingly dry. My mind races thorough the contents of the bag, all of which are now LOST...

Progress Isn't Pass/Fail

Hello from Mile Marker 14,432...

It's been a while, I know.  So how to restart??

One, two, three, GO!

That's how I get out the door these days.

You have to start somewhere.  And otherwise, I'll sit there for hours, trying to get my socket "just right."  

Lately, there is no "just right."  There's only better and worse.  (At least prosthetically-speaking...)

Fifteen Years

Overheard at Mile 14,140...

 "Fifteen years, and I still can't get my leg on." 

Mark laughs.  My brother is standing by his car, parked in the temporary spot outside my building.  

It's 8 PM on November 8.  

I was joking, but it's true.  My prosthesis is not quite on...

Memento Vivere

 A haunted hello from Mile 14,078...

...where a good-leg day meets a pain in the neck!

(That's a vampire joke!)

Remember Rainbow?

Well, she's 16 now, and while she's darkened her outerwear, she's still as colorful as ever on the inside.  

She's also old enough to do her own "googling," so she's been obsessed with visiting Vampa, the Vampire and Paranormal Museum in Doylestown, PA, about an hour north of Philly.

I'd been dragging my feet -- prosthetic and real -- because of the hassle of getting there... 

The Undercover Lives of My Favorite Baristas

Hello from --

-- I'm not sure what mile it is!

Life has been busy lately -- bursting at its seams.  I haven't had time to total my mileage.

But I learned, way back at Mile 30, that when feelings get too big, it's best to think small.  (And a little bacon goes a long way, but that's another story!)

Bacon aside, I'm grateful for my morning walk.  

If you're new here, a morning walk is nothing heroic...