Keeping Up with the Crowd

Last night, the Boy and I went to see the Seattle Sounders FC play Dallas. Jack drove us to the Light Rail and we took the train down to Century Link stadium. It was almost one month since we went to the Copa America game. I can tell my progress since my surgery by my ability to ride the Light Rail. Going to the the Light Rail, I was able to walk down the three very long flights of escalators, a feat I hadn't been able to do before. Escalators are relatively easy because I can hold both handrails and I feel like I am moving fast just because the steps are moving beneath me.

When I got off the train, I was able to keep up with the fast moving crowd heading to the Stadium. I wasn't left in the dust, trailing behind mobility challenged senior citizens like I was before. I was able to navigate the inside of the stadium just fine. Only once did my son tell me to move faster, and that was when we were heading to our seats. We had seats in the lower front section, and we stood for the entire ninety minute game. I went to get dinner and water, leaving our seats, navigating the stadium for food.

One the way out of the stadium, we followed the crowd to the side exits. When we walked around, we realized there was a disabled exit at the center of the stadium. I didn't need it. I made it out fine. I passed an elderly couple. The woman was struggling to walk; her husband was holding her hand. I thought about how I looked so many times, and gave them a wide berth as we passed. I don't think I would have even noticed or paid attention to them if I hadn't had my surgery.

The Boy and I passed the disabled parking section right at the front of the stadium.

"These spots would be really hard to get out of with all of the people walking by," the Boy said.

"These people still haven't made it out of the stadium," I said. "If they are truly disabled, it will take them a while to leave their seats and make it back to their cars." I knew from experience.

The Boy helped me navigate the crowd. I didn't have to even ask--I think he has grown so used to helping me that he didn't even realize he was doing it. There was one section where we had to climb two flights of stairs to get to the Light Rail. One stairwell was further down, but didn't have a mass of people.

"Let's take the one on the left," he said.

"I'll have to go slow," I said.

We headed over to the open stairs. He climbed in front of me, going only as fast as I was going. Like the elderly couple we saw moments earlier, two people moving at a plodding pace are safer in a crowd than one person moving slowly. He stayed with me as we crossed the street. I was faster than him in moving to get on the Light Rail. I am a former Chicagoan who is used to standing armpit-to-armpit on a crowded train. Two months ago, I would have been afraid to get on a train where I couldn't get a seat. Now, I jumped on the most crowded train I've ridden in Seattle. I was worried I could fall, but that fear was smaller than it would have been last month after the Copa America game.

Two months ago, I wouldn't have done this, go by myself with the Boy. A few months ago, I never imagined I'd be normal again. I feared my entire exercise life and interaction with the public would be at the YMCA on the stationary bike. But here I was, out and about. The months of boredom and immobility are starting to fade in the rearview mirror. I still have work to do. I still can't run. Jack would like me to work with Evan so I can spring ten yards so I can get across the street. Soon, I think. Soon.