Wishing I’d remembered the old neighborhood better I turned blindly down an alley. I wasn’t sure how much distance there was between myself and my low-slung pursuers. It probably wasn’t enough.

The alley went on for several blocks, but an 8 ft high chain-link fence blocked my path. I didn’t even slow down, just veered left towards the stack of dirty milk crates. I leapt off the first crate, one ricochet step off the fence, one off the wall, and I basically collided my midsection into the top of the fence. My feet flailed upwards, and my head swung downwards. Something ripped, and something stung, but I fell, albeit with no apparent grace, into a pile of garbage.

No time to look, as I could hear the Spanish swear words echoing off the brick and mortar, so I just kept running. I rolled my thumb to center, benefit of joint laxity, and started trying to work the cuff over my sweaty hand. I’d always figured I could do this, and no time like the present to try. That’s life; it’s all about your motivation.