Two Weeks Travel

Totem Poles @ Stanley Park,
Vancouver, BC, Canada

I have returned from a whirlwind trip to CT, Seattle, & British Columbia. I’m not quite settling into normal… The normal I have had is not the normal I am pushing myself to shift into. I still desire to get back to running several times a week. I need to remind myself of what Sherry Lansing said during my college commencement, “you can have it all; you just can’t have it all at once.” I am certain that she was not figuring brain surgery or any kind of health set back. Set backs and bumps in the road are expected. It could be seeing Jeff, or it could be the talk of commencement speeches, but it makes me recall high school. The valedictorian was a mutual friend of Jeff & me. In her speech she told us we would have bumps in the road. She spoke of the pet goat who was neutered & on the same day of his operation, was hit by the lawnmower & his horn was cut short. Despite the goat withstanding these traumas all in an afternoon, he lived a very full & vibrant life. She encouraged us to do the same.

2-hour sunset kayak tour

I doubt the goat was concerned about shifting his paradigm to something more similar to the life he had before surgery. I know I am not the same person I was when I had surgery. Priorities have shifted- most for the better. While not fully enjoying the demand for sleep, I am making it more of a priority. Needing to stay active is also a  priority. This need is not driven fear to be fit for the next surgery. It is driven by joy & the pure ability that I can do it. I like being able to run 10 miles & I LOVE the new coordination I have because I don’t have the tumor pressing on my cerebellum.

While traveling in the Pacific Northwest, I was outside every day & walked everywhere… likely 3-5 miles a day. I never quite grasped the metric system until I took up running & because of it, I could assimilate & speak in kilometers when talking distance. The bike ride around Stanley Park was 10k (6.2 miles) & the round trip distance from my hostel to the breakwater in Victoria was roughly 5k. I probably kayaked 3k in Victoria harbor (with Kelp Reef Adventures) and my Vancouver walking tour (including a trip to Lynn Canyon) is an estimated 6k. The hike with Jeff through a path in the Cascades just outside of Seattle was 7.2 miles. I was never at a shortage of activities & even though I gained 1 lb, my clothes fit better. (I’m hoping that 1 pound is muscle, not pastry/ice cream/coffee.)

Lynn Canyon Suspension 
Bridge. Next time, Capilano
Suspension Bridge

I'm back home and it's time to get back to reality. Instead of 8-10+ hours of activity, I am 8-10+ hours behind a desk and wheel of the car.  I need to shift again and carve out time to exercise. Also, as Jeanette at Soloma Fitness has been reminding me, I need to build in activities throughout my workday, particularly because I have a stationary job. Small stretches, leg lifts, etc, will keep me in better health. Jeanette is also the reason I keep a carafe of water on my desk to drink through the day.

With the strength I have built from vacation travel and a focus on "some distance is better than no distance," consistent long distance will become normal again. (The dance classes I start next month should also add a fun cardiovascular activity while helping cross another thing on my to-do list.) 

Unexpected Progress

It feels like all I’ve been doing is go to work, come home, have dinner & go to bed. It’s not a rut per se, but it has been an ugly cycle.  I have desperately been trying to shift my paradigm back to the more active always-productive Sarah.  Try as I might, I on a plateau with a massive vertical wall in front of me. I’ve searched for a finger & foot-holds. I found some, but when I would climb, but no matter how much progress I made, I lose my grip & slide back down.  People constantly grow & build on skills. When we are tested, it may feel like we’ve experienced a setback, but we’ve actually made progresses because we are a stronger individual than we were prior to gaining the new skills.

Looking back on the enormous energy I expended after surgery to do simple things like get out bed & sit in a chair or shower by myself, the me of today is proud of the me from 18 months ago. But, today, I would not be satisfied with such a mundane existence. I now look for other ways to push myself. Despite these humbling benchmarks, in the day-to-day & week-to-week of living, seeing progress is difficult.

Last week I took advantage of my office closure & had a follow-up appointment with my neurologist on Monday. She administered the standard neurological tests. We started with fine motor, then it was on to gross motor. I walked a straight line, then walked heal to toe. She followed up this malicious examination by having me walk on my tippy toes & then lean my weight on my heals & walk like that. She proclaimed since my last appointment I improved remarkably. I thought she was being kind & even joked when I wobbled on one of the tests that walking a straight line has always been tough & my friends tell me I can’t pass a sobriety test sober. She qualified her remark by noting I had better over-all balance & body control while having a more steady gate. Still thinking she was full of shit, I thanked her graciously had some girl talk about weight loss & then confirmed I my 6-month follow-up.

 

On Thursday, still thinking she was full of shit, I went for a bike ride. Despite having tires that were a little soft, I noted how much easier cycling was since the last time I road, (which is pushing 3 months ago). I rode to the Chandler Bike Path from my apartment & then the entire path.  (This is a round trip of 10 miles.) Like I did on my first long bike ride, I passed Buena Vista & gave a wave to Providence St. Joseph Medical Center & my caregivers there. I road to the end & & enjoyed the accomplishment as I drank my water.

On my return, I was tired & unsure if I could make it back. I figured more air was in order. I found a NAPA store with a mechanic. He did not accept my offer to purchase air; he just gave it to me. He even got fancy & took out his tire pressure gauge.  I thanked him profusely & road away. Filled with air for my tires & confidence in my heart for my accomplishments, I knew I could make it home. I’m still not setting the world on fire, but my Garmin Forerunner GPS tells me my speed has increased, & I know additional speed will come. 

It's Just Like Riding a Bike

Sports have never been my forte. Even the simplest childhood activities were difficult.  I always marveled at my baby sister who would careen around the yard on her bike with mud splattering up her back when she would ride through puddles. Our parents pleaded with her to stop ruining her clothes. It was only then that she started riding her bicycle in a swimsuit. When weather would turn to snow, we would ride our bikes in the barn. For someone who already had difficulty turning her bike, the proposition of turning a bike in the 10 foot wide aisle contending with obstacles of hay, wheelbarrows, dogs and a sister, it seemed insurmountable. I’m not sure if I was ever able to deftly maneuver around all this without stopping, standing and pivoting the bike below me.

The Midnight Ridazz at one of their night-time cycling events.

Several years ago, I purchased a bike. It's nothing fancy, just  a regular bike from Target. Despite my best efforts to pedal and stay erect, it seemed that whoever came up with the adage “It’s just like riding a bike” should be shot.  Riding a bike as an adult is not as easy as it was when I was a child, and considering I had a very difficult time all those years ago, my frustration only continued to grow each time I would take my bike out. I had spent some time looking for the optimal size bike and settled on a children’s bicycle. I considered ways to make it easier, like getting the brakes reversed so I would be able to use my left hand on my back brake. (Apparently, getting brakes reversed is a benefit of growing up in a small town because the bike shops in Los Angeles refused and went as far to say that changing the brakes to do this in the states is illegal.)  Once I had the bike and made my peace with having to brake with my right hand, combining pedal movement, forward momentum and staying upright was tough…. I would wake up early on the weekends and take my bike out before the cars started revving their engines and the roads would be filled with the din of LA traffic. Each time I took my bike out, I would get marginally better… but only marginally. That is, until today.

Tour de France map.

Still lacking in confidence to ride with the big kids down the road, I peddled up and down the dead-end road by my apartment. Bigger than lacking confidence, I lacked something else, that two-inch brain tumor. You world be surprised how much easier bike riding is without this thing getting in the way, misshaping my brain and causing it to swell. The only thing swelling now is my ego. The speed was slow. The distance covered was not vast. I have now realized that stories kids come up with while riding or phrases they tell themselves like “crisis averted” come from near misses with bushes or luxury cars.  Today was a step and each time I take the bike out, it will get easier and easier.  As the laps increased my grip on the brake loosened.  I’m not in a hurry to get out there and commute to work on my bike, but the idea of one day being able to ride several miles with friends just ‘cause will become as easy as running 10 miles with friends. Both of these are far away right now… after looking at all the Hal Higdon half marathon training schedules, it seems that the best one would be with cross-training built in. This program will not only get me to my next half marathon, it will turn me into a cyclist. I don’t expect to join the local club the Midnight Ridazz, but adding one more thing into what I can do is pretty exciting.

I never thought I would look at several laps on a dead-end road as anything remarkable, but on today, on my first bike ride since brain surgery, it is a huge victory.