the Stairway to...

I entered the bottom of the stairwell the same time as the man who limps. Our paths have crossed many times, and he always greets me, always seems happy.

I've never seen him not limping. One foot seems to turn in a bit. Yet still, he walks.

Greetings were exchanged, and he began his slow ascent immediately. I stayed behind to stretch. And contemplate whether I could do this.

I run up two flights at the train stop nearly every morning in an attempt to elevate my heartbeat. Just two days earlier, in a long dress, the little voice inside my head had warned, "Pull up your skirt." First softly, then a little louder. But still I did not listen.

I'd been up those concrete stairs a million times, and nothing had ever gone wrong. At the top of the steps, the dress got tangled, and down I went. It hurt, but the worst part was being seen by about 200 people, many of whom asked if I was okay. I didn't even check to see if I'd ripped my dress until I boarded the train and was out of view of all those who had seen me go down.

The dress survived, thankfully. My knee didn't fare as well. It looked like raw hamburger, and it was swelling and turning blue. Ugh.

Now I was at the foot of 60 flights, wondering if I should torture that still healing knee. I'd deliberately walked a mile the morning I bashed it to keep it from getting stiff. But I stayed off my bike, and I'd avoided stairs. Until now.

I heard the man on the metal, vibrating and popping stairs stop one flight above. I continued to stretch, still mentally trying to talk myself out of climbing. The man began ascending again, one flight, and then stopped again.

I realized he was going to do more than one or two flights. He could just as easily take the elevator, but he chose to work whatever was causing his discomfort. I looked down at my knee one more time.

The man above began slowly climbing again, the metal platforms audibly snapping as weight distribution changed.

Blueberry knee or not, if he could do it, so could I.

The man climbed only five or six flights. But he climbed. He did not take the easy way up.

I went all the way to the top. My knee throbbed, and it bothered me off and on the rest of the day. Actually, a couple more days passed before it finally stopped screaming at me every time I bent it.

My mantra this year is, "Go further than you think you can."

But sometimes, the mantra is overpowered by inspirational people like the man on the stairs. Those who keep trying with even more to work through than me.

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