We sped on, across the plains, toward Metz. I hung back, saving myself. It is called the Race of Truth. The early stages separate the strong riders from the weak. Now the weak would be eliminated altogether.
The question was, which would the chemo kill first: the cancer or me?
Nobody needs to cry for me. I'm going to be great.
We have unrealized capacities that sometimes only emerge in crisis.
Fear is priceless education.
Giving up was never an option