Wednesday, September 10, 2014

Raft Assignment 2

Heel toe, heel toe, elbow bent at ninety degrees, fingers gently curved. You must not waste any motion that does not translate into speed. The track runners think my sport is ridiculous, and often jest that “Those who cannot run, walk.” To them it seems simple, easy, but I can assure you it is not. I spent years training, practicing, and perfecting my form all with hopes of obtaining the gold. It is my life. I mean, it was my life. I spit upon his name in my heart at the very memory of his thievery… him and that accursed blue mini-cooper.
“Three metatarsals were fractured, and your cuneiform is completely crushed.” Doctor Tyler informed me.
“Does this mean I won’t be able to compete in Beijing?”  I replied.
He frowned. “I am afraid with this kind of damage to your bones you’ll never be able to compete again. In fact, you’ll be lucky if you can even walk without the assistance of a cane.”

A life spent training, and in the blink of an eye it was over… or should I say in the roll of a tire over a curb. I prance in place during my training waiting for the signal to let me pass and he bends to catch his tumbling coffee. Perhaps I was lucky he didn't run my whole body over, but in the end he may as well have. The first time I’d realized my dream was shortly before my six birthday, when my father showed me the medal he had won at the Montreal summer games in 76’. He told me it was the only thing he’d ever done that he was ever proud of. I don’t think he was exaggerating, because he certainly wasn't proud of marrying my mother, or having me, because a week later he ran off with a twenty year old stripper named Candy. Neither I nor my mother ever heard from him again. Despite my hatred for my father, I never forgot what he said about his medal, and I became determined to win my own. This is why I refused to accept that I would not be able to compete in the summer games. I knew I couldn't participate in my original event, so, I penned a letter to the board of directors of the Beijing games, begging for a new event to be included in the upcoming games. I suggested that the event be a race in which the participants are required to walk on their palms. It was a Hail Mary and I knew it. As expected, the board wrote back to inform me that it was impossible to add an event to the games on such short notice. Events could only be added after years of careful deliberation. Consider this my note. I hope it is enough of an explanation for you. Not too long ago I took half the bottle of Oxycodone Dr. Tyler prescribed me and chased it down with a bottle of whis   

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