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By Tammy Isfeld

 
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PostPosted: Thu 8:59, 29 Aug 2013    Post subject: By Tammy Isfeld

By Tammy Isfeld,[link widoczny dla zalogowanych]
Last summer,[link widoczny dla zalogowanych], I started running. Something I'd always told everyone I couldn't do. Scar tissue from an old injury. I woke up earlier than I liked for two months,[link widoczny dla zalogowanych], until the pain disappeared. Soon,[link widoczny dla zalogowanych], I had sneakers spilling out of my hallway closet. The problem of what to do with several pairs of unwearable shoes ran through my mind each day as I left the house. One morning,[link widoczny dla zalogowanych], the solution was right in front of me. I tied together all those loose laces and threw them in the air,[link widoczny dla zalogowanych], over and over until they dangled from the power lines.
Creative Nonfiction: Losing the Fight
My arm is locked between her legs and feels tight,[link widoczny dla zalogowanych], like a thick rubber band just before it breaks. I have two choices; fight the pain until the clock runs out,[link widoczny dla zalogowanych], or tap the mat,[link widoczny dla zalogowanych], signalling defeat. My brother is at the edge of the mat yelling at me. How much time is left? Minutes or seconds? The only thing I can hear is the voice in my head which keeps reminding me that if Uncle Bob could make it to see this match while in the middle of chemotherapy,[link widoczny dla zalogowanych], than I can ignore the excruciating burning in my arm.
In the hospital,[link widoczny dla zalogowanych], I remember screaming. I think I passed out. The codeine made things confusing but I'll never forget how scared my uncle looked when he said,[link widoczny dla zalogowanych], "I've never seen anyone so tough."
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