Down the Shore

Seafoam rushes between my five toes. Sand settles, heavy, on my prosthetic foot.

When I swing my thigh to kick it off, it takes so much force that — for just one instant — it feels like it’s my real foot out there, flinging sand into the tide.

Later, I will dismantle my “beach leg,” as I’ve been taught by my prosthetist, Tim.

I’ll rinse it in a cascade of fresh water in the bathtub and watch the day’s residue erupt, volcano-like, from within the footshell.

A mixture of sand and shells and ocean -- seemingly pounds of it — will thunk into the tub like wet cement. And I’ll spend more time bent over, chasing it into lumps and scooping it up with paper towels, than I did in the actual waves.

But for now, I’m here. Wading.

Feeling, with wonder, my two feet in the water.

I had forgotten how much I love the beach...

Be There

Hello from Mile 9,422...

... on Kelly Drive! 

It's the most crowded place I've been in a year.  But with Rocco and Susan, I feel safe.  

That's why we call them my Secret Service :)

Long before the accident, we skated and biked together -- many times on this exact path.  We always watched out for each other.  Made sure none of us got hurt or left behind.

After my accident, they watched out for me even more...

Sweet Home Chicago

Mile Marker 7420:

How many supplies can I tuck into a carry-on backpack?  Should I walk through the airport or take a wheelchair?  Will the gate area be too hot?  What's wrong with my new liner?  Why is my leg so tight in the morning and so loose in the afternoon?  And how can I pack for a trip that will cover both?

When I arrive at the airport, these worries turn like gears in my head.  

Places I've Been

Mile Marker 4450: 

They say you can't go back, but really you can.

It's just not the same.

Take Chicago.  Or more specifically, a bike path in Chicago...