Green, quiet, beautiful — and, that day, empty.
Jason was alone on the trail when the stroke hit. His vision blurred. One side of his body stopped answering. There was nobody to call to, and no way for anyone to reach him quickly even if there had been.
He had one option, and he took it. He started walking. Two miles, on legs that didn't want to work, toward a car he could barely see. Then he drove himself to the hospital, holding on to consciousness the whole way.
The four months after were harder. A hospital bed does to muscle what nothing else does. Jason had spent years working in healthcare — he knew what was happening to his body while he lay there. Knowing didn't stop it. He watched himself get smaller.
Then he got out, and the world shut down. Gyms closed. What he had was a set of resistance bands and a lot of time. So he started over — not at the beginning, below it.
THERE'S NO DRAMATIC ENDING HERE. HE DIDN'T COME ALL THE WAY BACK.