She was as fit as any of the fittest. Except she was missing a leg. And she was new to the gym. You might not notice her amidst all the activity — other than when she moved to different equipment. That's when her crutches materialized. The only ones I'd seen in the place since it opened some years ago.
Although it may be counter-intuitive to describe, it was only by direct observation that one could appreciate the crutches weren't a limitation — they were an extension.
Even the most seasoned regulars, grunting under the weight of iron, couldn't help but feel the energy of her determined power: a whirlwind of controlled fury.
She was on a mission. I was passing time. Hence, I had to ask, "Are you training on a deadline?"
A smile flashed across her face. "Always," the glint in her eyes hinted at humor. "Life throws some curveballs. Gotta be ready to hit 'em back, even when you're down a bat."
"I hear ya." I figured I'd see her around again. "What's your name?"
"Phoenix." She put down her water bottle. "I rise from the ashes every damn time." She got back to work.
by George Alger
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