What “Keep Trying” Looks Like
My foot caught on a lip of uneven concrete, and before I could even comprehend what was happening, I was down. There is a specific, jarring shock to falling at forty-four. It’s not quite like falling as a kid, which was already bad for me; it’s a heavy, bone-rattling impact that leaves you winded on the side of a busy road, traffic blurring past while you check for blood and broken pride. I sat there for quite some time, brushing grit off my palms, wondering why I do this at all. ...