My first shoes for running came from G.I. Joe's, a sporting goods store in Oregon. They were Nike cross-training shoes and likely contributed to painful shin splints when I started running high school track. They didn't last long. (Especially after I visited a running specialty store to be properly fitted.) But I still remember slowly …
There's something about a deadline. In 2010, one inspired me to finish a piece I titled "The Waiting Room." I entered it in Upstate Medical University's contest and, surprisingly, won the Bruce Dearing Writing Award. Originally published in The Healing Muse, "The Waiting Room" is a personal essay about my dad dying. I've included it below, …
Nine years ago, I heard you stop breathing.
Mothers bear us, and the brunt of the world.
After a weekend like last, I hesitate to wash out the smell of campfire. It mingles with dirt smudges, smidgens of blood, bits of pine needles, salty sweat deposits, tufts of moss, and big drops of Oregon rain. In between trees in the Tillamook State Forest, we ran, crewed, cowbelled, and fire-gazed, out of cell …
