Doubling My Weight, Normal and "Sacred Hoops"

In less than a week, my family and I will be leaving on vacation, and where we will be going will not have ellipticals, stationary bikes or weight lifting machines.* I am slightly starting to panic on how I will maintain my physical therapy exercises while I am gone. Will my leg get better or worse? I am also trying to cram in exercise before I leave to I am in top shape before I go.

I was at the Y today and saw my friend Mark who had a brain tumor removed several weeks ago.

"I rode my bike and I started exercising again," he told me.

"Are you feeling normal yet? Like you did before the surgery?" I asked.

"I can't go backwards, only forwards," he said.

"I mean do you every forget that you had surgery? Like, you are in the shower or listening to music and you are not thinking about your surgery?"

"You mean like when it isn't present in your thoughts all of the time?" he asked.

"Yeah," I said. I was thinking of normal more like a circle that goes around, not like a line where we move back and forth. I was raised Catholic, and I think of it in terms of Ordinary Time. There are time of suffering (Good Friday and Lent), times of celebration (Easter and Christmas) and then Ordinary Time which is neither. I didn't think of this while I was speaking to him, but I think of it now.

"When I look down and to the side, I have double vision still," he said. "How are you?"

"I am doing better, but my physical therapist said the more I try new things, my knee will react and get stiff," I said. "It isn't bad, but I have to think about it. Am I working too hard? Am I not working hard enough? How often should I ice my leg? That kind if thing." He nodded. The front desk at the Y is a busy place on Saturday morning, so I left him to his work.

On the recumbent bike, I was reading Phil Jackson's Sacred Hoops. I got it for the Boy to read. I thought it might help him to calm his mind. I decided to read it first, and maybe highlight the more interesting and practical passages for him. I wonder about this mindfulness and what all of it means. Jackson had an accident early in his basketball career where he ruptured two vertebrae and he was out for almost two years. I thought about my situation with my knee, and the mindfulness of recovery.

When I finished my cardio, I went to lift weights. I started on the leg press and didn't check the weight before I decided to push. Normally, I start with a low weight and work up. Today, I decided to start with a heavy weight and work down. In one move, I doubled what I could lift before. All it took was a change in direction.

* ...that I can access easily. I am sure there are such machines in France, but probably not at the hotels where we are staying.

Michelle & Hillary, and LinkedIn

Many people have seen the Michelle Obama speech at the Democratic National Convention. It went viral on my Facebook feed. I caught her speech online, and I had to stop watching at one point and watched the rest of the next day. Here is where I stopped:

"And when she didn't win the nomination eight years ago, she didn't get angry or disillusioned. Hillary did not pack up and go home. Because as a true public servant, Hillary knows that this is much bigger than her own desires and disappointments. So she proudly stepped up to serve our country once again as Secretary of State..."

This passage haunted me because I lost an election for school board last fall, and I decided to get out of volunteer work in public education. Michelle's comments stung me--it was as if she were calling me a quitter, even though she wasn't. First, Michelle doesn't know me. Second, Hillary was getting paid to be Secretary of State whereas I was a volunteer. Third, if John McCain had won, Hillary would not have been Secretary of State.

In the meantime, I am in the process of figuring out what I want to do next with my life. This is a challenge. Yesterday, I got an email from LinkedIn telling me people were looking at my profile. One of the people was my friend's father whom I got to know fairly well a few years ago. It was then I realized I haven't updated my LinkedIn page since I ran for School Board, and my last entry was School Board candidate. What should I update it with next?

November 5 to December 18, 2015 -- Recovering School Board Candidate

Chilled: Went from gas pedal firmly pressed to the floor for nine months to dead stop

• Did not manage any emails
• Did not take any phone calls
• Did not do any public speaking
• Did not raise any money
• Did not manage campaign staff
• Did laundry, quilting and cooked dinner.

December 19, 2015 -- Recreational Skier, Summit at Snoqualmie

• Effectively utilized Ski Patrol services to escort me from top of Outback to bottom of hill.
• Effectively tore ACL, MCL and meniscus in one fall.

December 20, 2015 to January 7, 2016 -- Injured person in denial.

• Learned how to use crutches
• Learned how to ascend and descend stairs using the "up with the good, down with the bad" method. As a self-learner, I discovered this on a YouTube video.

January 8, 2016 to present: Physical Therapy and Orthopedic Surgery Patient

• Learned to reactive left quadricep muscles.
• Learned to walk using "heel-toe" method. 
• Successfully completed "pre-hab;" stopped using brace and crutches prior to surgery.
• Learned the importance of icing and elevating knee three times a day.
• Didn't swear at children/spouse too much when they weren't being helpful; showed much appreciation when they did.
• Managed to limit use of prescription painkillers after surgery. Used ice, elevation and ibuprofen for discomfort as alternative synthetic opiates.
• Normalized gait.
• Increased extension in leg left from from +5 to -7 degrees in five months.
• Increased flexion from 75 to 145 degrees in four months.
• Continuing to get 45 minutes of cardio-vascular exercise a day.
• Can walk up and downstairs consistently.
• Weened self from use of disabled parking permit except when parking is a real bitch.
• Current Goal: Jogging and running.

Ode to Breakfast Sandwich

I think of you before I go to sleep.
I imagine your savoriness between my lips.
When I awake, you are gone.
Your bacon, egg and cheese on a buttermilk biscuit
will never be mine today.

I search and search until I find
your wrapper in the garbage.

The Boy has taken you from me
Yesterday
While I was walking the dog.

Curse you Boy and your rapid growth
Eating all of the food in the fridge
Leaving me with yogurt
Granola
Blueberries
And Kale
For breakfast.
This isn't bad
but it isn't awesome either.

Rewind

Note: This blog post contains math story problems.

Yesterday, I went to visit Claire Adele at Camp Orkila on Orcas Island. I started out the day in a bad mood, mostly because of myself. The night before I left, I checked Google Maps to see how long it would take me to get there. I've been there before multiple times and I know how to get there, but I wanted to double check. I saw that it was eighty miles to the ferry from my house, so I figured it would me about an hour and twenty minutes to get there since it is mostly highway.

Question #1: How fast (average speed) would Lauren have drive to get to the Anacortes Ferry in 80 minutes?

Answer #1: 60 miles an hour.

Question #2: The ferry leaves Anacortes at 10:20 a.m.. If Lauren leaves at 8:00 a.m., what time would she arrive in Anacortes?

Answer #2: 9:20 a.m.

Question #3: Lauren is going to walk on the ferry. She has to park, pay for parking and walk to the ferry terminal. She might also have to buy her ticket, since when she asked Jack if she should purchase her ticket ahead of time online, he said, "You can get a ticket at the terminal." Also, it will be Sunday morning so she imagines most of the weekend parking spots will be gone. Plus, she hurt her back, her knee is acting up and she still can't run/jog. How much buffer time would Lauren have between arriving in Anacortes to when the ferry leaves?

Question #3: One hour. This should be enough even if everything goes completely wrong.

Question #4: While Lauren is reasonably organized, she likes to have a "target leave time" and a "must leave now leave time." What is latest Lauren should leave for her must leave now time given her unreliable mobility?

Question #4: 8:20, to be safe.

I get up, get dressed, finish slicing the brownies I baked Saturday for Claire Adele and pack them into a box. I packed the rest of her goodie bag the night before. At 8:06, I still have time. I ask Jack to get me a ferry ticket.

"It says you should be at the ferry terminal twenty minutes before the boat leaves," Jack says.

"Okay," I say. I knew I had to be there early, but I didn't know they had a recommended time for walk on passengers.

"It says it may take an hour to process the payment for the ticket," Jack said.

"What?" This is the internet. It is supposed to be faster than anything else. That is why it exists.

I finish getting ready, but I stall as I wait for the ticket. I am now approaching my "must leave now time." I'll have to decide if I am going to leave before my $13.95 ticket prints.

"It is printing," Jack says. I grab it and walk down the twenty three steps to my car. When I get there, I realize I've forgotten my phone. My car has a GPS, and I think about going without my phone. My motherhood brain kicks in and says "Bring in just in case." Motherhood brains are very good at looking at all possible disaster scenarios. I go up the stairs, get my phone, and then back down. If I had forgotten anything else, I would called Jack or the Boy and asked them to bring it to me. Since it was my phone, I couldn't do it.

At 8:22 a.m., I get in the car and program my GPS to the ferry terminal.

"You will arrive in one hour, thirty six minutes," my GPS tells me.

"What!?!" I scream at my GPS. I panic. I wish I could rewind time back to 7:50 a.m. to tell myself to leave at 8:00 a.m. exactly.

Question #5: If Lauren has to be at the ferry terminal twenty minutes before the boat leaves and her GPS is correct, how much buffer time does Lauren have between arriving in Anacortes and having her butt in the boat line?

Answer #5: I am too freaked out to figure this out. I figure I have about twelve minutes of buffer time and I'll get there at 9:48. I'll have to drive fast.

When I calculate this for my blog, I realize I only had a two minute buffer. What happened in my brain? It lied to me so I wouldn't freak out and sob about missing my daughter. I pull out of my street and get on to leafy Ravenna Blvd. It twists and turns and is a beautiful street. Today, at 8:23 a.m., there is a driving school car in front of me that is going--I swear to god--9 miles an hour. I scream and swear and cry for this kid who is probably fifteen and a half years old to MOVE IT NOW!!!! I would lean on the horn, but it is likely that my daughter goes to school with this new driver. Plus, the car has a sign that reads "Taught by police officers!" Getting a ticket would set me back.

The car goes straight, and I turn left. I need to get away from this car and I find a different way to the highway.

Question #6: How fast does Lauren need to drive to make it to Anacortes in time?

Answer #6: Very fast.

Normally when I drive, I sit in the middle lane and drive the same speed as the car in front of me. This time, I shift to the left lane and try to go about ten to fifteen miles above the speed limit. I don't want to go too fast and get a ticket. Jack said if I got ticket, I could have unzipped the front of my dress and flashed some cleavage to get out of a ticket. I don't think I would have done that. I think I would have burst into tears and cried "I need to catch the ferry so I can see my daughter who I haven't seen in a month!!!" Plus, the cop might have wondered why I was dressed like a ho to visit my daughter at camp.

The faster I drove, the more time I shaved of the total time to get to the ferry. There is one part in Skagit County which has a speed limit of 70 miles per hour, which is bad because my GPS had already calculated this into my travel time. Fuck. I drive a 2004 Lexus 300 ES. (Don't get excited. We bought it used with 45,000 miles on it.) While this is a nice and comfortable car, it is not fast. The New York Times in its car reviews compared it to driving a Buick. Seventy-five was about as fast as I wanted to go for fear of something going wrong with the car.

I made it to the ferry at 9:38 a.m.. It was a miracle. I grabbed the first spot to the park. It was far away, but I had time to walk. I went to pay for parking, and the only way to park was to pay by phone! My motherhood "worst case scenario" brain had earned its keep for today.

I had to cross several lanes of traffic to make it to the ferry waiting room for walk-ons. There was a large fence keeping the pedestrians separate from the traffic, but I could figure out how to get to the other side. The ferry was coming in and cars would need to disembark. When they disembark, it is like rats coming off a sinking ship. There is no slow--just get off and away from this boat as fast as possible. I did not want to be pinned against the wrong side of the fence when the cars were released.

So I ran. Yes, you read that correctly: I ran. I ran about twenty yards to the end of the fence so I could get out of the way of the cars. I didn't fall. I didn't trip. It wasn't a pretty run, nor was it fast, but it was running.

I made it to the ferry on time, but I was a little stressed and feeling mildly melancholy. Jack and the Boy stayed home, which was fine. It was nice to have time to myself on the ferry and in the car. After all of that hassle, I worried that Claire Adele might not want me there. I know I missed her, but would she miss me? The hard part about parenting is that it is often an unrequited love--you love your kids more than they love you, and that is expected to be part of the bargain.

At camp, Claire Adele lives in a little bubble where she (and no one else) had parents or siblings. She loves that bubble, and even though this was "Family and Friends Weekend," she might not have wanted me contaminating her pure environment. But I did. I showed up with a bag of brownies, Goldfish crackers, dried cranberries, and apricots from the Farmers' Market. Claire Adele isn't into hugs, and she kind of winced when she saw me. She didn't know if I was coming or not, but my offering of food softened my arrival. We walked and talked and she told me about camp. I got to see the other Counselors in Training, which was nice. We both teared up during the CIT Family and Friends camp fire circle where the staff and CITs talked about previous weeks.

She asked if could take the later ferry at 8:45 p.m. instead of 5:15 p.m. so we could go out to dinner in town. Part of me knows she was motivated by food, but I wasn't so awful that she'd rather eat camp food instead of being seen with me. She  introduced me to her gossip magazine loving friend. They shared reading People and talked about the Karadashians. We got ice cream and I bought her a croissant from a bakery and a sandwich from Island Market, the local grocery store. She told me stories about her campers, whom she loved. All was good, and I got back on the ferry. On the ride back to Anacortes, I got up and wandered around. I went on the upper deck in the sunshine and looked out at the view. One of Claire Adele's jobs at camp was to greet campers at Anacortes, so she had to take the ferry a few times back and forth from Orcas to the mainland.

As I rode home, I thought about the Kurt Vonnegut quote: "I urge you to please notice when you are happy, and exclaim or murmur or think at some point 'If this isn't nice, then I don't know what is.'" There are times in life where getting places is a hassle, but rarely has the hassle been so counter to what I experienced when I arrived.

Treadmill

I am riding the bike at the Y

The treadmill in front of me

sounds like an untuned violin.

After complaining for months about riding the stationary bike, I was back in the saddle at the Y and I enjoyed it. I read half of this week's New Yorker. Most of the articles are about the evils of Trump. I saw Mark who is recovering quite well from his brain tumor surgery. I know brain surgery has a great psychic cost than knee surgery, but the recovery and bounce back is way faster than knee surgery.

Pokemon GO: Beer, Coffee & Dog Editions

I can't decide if Pokemon GO is the most brilliant thing ever or the work of Satan.

I was listening to NPR the other day as I was picking my son up from music camp. The Boy calls it "band camp." His friend who plays the cello calls it "music camp." Music camp sounds like they are playing Beethoven. Band camp sounds like a bunch of young boys blasting away rock music on their horns. This camp is closer to Beethoven, but not by much. For some reason, the Boy loves this camp. I can't figure out why.

I digress, but not really. I'd much rather have my kid playing music three hours every day instead of looking for Pokemon on his phone. And I already give him a fairly long leash when it comes to going around town. This week, I let the Boy ride his bike from the U District to Ballard to visit Card Kingdom to buy Magic Cards.* Round trip it is thirteen miles. I encourage (okay beg) my son to bike to soccer practice at Magnuson Park so I don't have to drive him. Win-win, I say. Good for the environment, and I get forty minutes of my life back. My high school history teacher said sleeping and driving places were the two biggest wastes of time ever. I disagree with him on sleeping, but agree with him on driving. In short, I hate it; therefore, I am happy to let my kids take the bus or bike around town. Seattle Public Schools gives high school and middle school kids who live a certain distance from school an Orca card for travel. I asked someone in transportation once if kids use the cards to go all over town.

"No," he said. "Almost all of the trip are to and from school." Wow. Kids who are given a free pass don't use it.

Until now. Jack and I regularly walk our dog through Ravenna Park. This past week, we have seen groups of people looking for Pokemon, people we have never seen in the park before. In one sense, I am glad these people are getting their dose of Vitamin N,* but seriously, can't they do it without looking at a screen? Are they really communing with the trees and ferns, dipping their toes in the creek? No. They are developing near-sightedness by looking at their phone. People have crashed their cars and walked off cliffs looking for Pokemon. Little kids have left their homes in the middle of the night and were found miles away from home looking for digital creatures.

The upside: When the Boy and I were at the Sounders game last week, I overheard two moms talking. Her daughter rarely left the house until she got Pokemon GO. Her kids met kids who live in their neighborhood who they have never met before. There is a quantifiable uptick in exercise for children in the in the past few weeks. They boys on my son's soccer team joke that Michelle Obama has been trying to get kids to exercise for seven and a half years, and Pokemon GO succeeded in less than a month. My dad saw young people forty to fifty pounds overweight outside walking around Antrim Lake. Jack and I saw a family with three generations walking through the Ravenna woods tonight.

Why did we need an app to get us outside?

Back to NPR. I heard that Pokemon GO was developed by the Google Maps people. They wanted to create a game using Google Maps. There were other games like this before, but Pokemon GO was the one that clicked with people.

Maybe I would understand this better if I understood Pokemon, but could we think of something else? What about micro-brewries? Every time you go to a local micro-brewery, you get a gold star. Maybe you get one for each beer you drink. It could be a pub crawl game.

"Wouldn't you get really drunk?" the Boy asked when I presented this idea at dinner tonight.

"You wouldn't have to drink everything all in one night," I said. "Maybe over the summer or something."

You could do it for independently owned coffee shops. Heck, you could even collect dog breeds. Give each dog a tag or scan their picture. See how many dogs you can find while walking around. I'd might feel sorry for the poor owner of a saluki who might get harassed because their saluki is the only one around for ten miles, but other than that, it could be fine. Dog owners usually smile and say hi to people anyway. Or there could be a combo game: which dogs did you see in coffee shops?

You are welcome, internet, if someone hasn't already created this idea.

____
* I wanted him to load the the "Find My Friend" app on his phone so I could see where he was in case something happened. "I won't get kidnapped," he said.
"But what if you get hit by a car?" I said.
"That would be bad if you looked at your phone and saw I was at Harborview Hospital," he said.

** Vitamin N = Nature according to Richard Louv.

Waiting & Patience; and Half-way Done

"The waiting is the hardest part." -- Tom Petty

I recently met a woman who tore her ACL a few years ago. She is about forty-four, so I am gathering she was about forty when she had her accident.

"One day, your knee is all of a sudden fine," she said. "It stops twitching and aching and you just don't think about it any more."

I am waiting for that day. The typical recovery time for an ACL is nine months. I am not quite five outside of my surgery--just about that the halfway point before I can return to sports, as they at the sports medicine clinic I attend. The hard part is that there are days when I feel pretty normal. I can walk. I can go up and down stairs. I can be on my feet for the better part of the day and I feel okay.

Then I added road biking into the mix. I love road biking. It is one of my favorite activities. It clears my mind and I feel so much better. Plus, I am literally moving forward. I am going some place, reaching a destination, accomplishing something tangible that doesn't need to be counted. I can ride to Matthew Beach,* which sounds better than forty-five minutes of kickboard laps.

In about two weeks, we are going to France. Two weeks ago, I was feeling great about the trip. I was feeling strong and healthy. Then I started to bike on the road. I know biking is making my leg stronger, but by pushing it, it is getting a little sore. I am doing more squats, which are necessary for me to do if I want to run. Tuesday, I threw out my back from squatting too much and now my knee is stiff. Argh! I thought this was all about forward progression? Why does this progress make me feel like I am slipping back?

* How many times do I ride to Matthews Beach, turn around, go home and not see the beach and Lake Washington? Too many. I need to stop from now on. What is the point of riding to Matthews Beach or Gasworks Park if I don't stop and see the water?

Death v. Retirement

"Nothing is certain in life except death and taxes," said someone like Benjamin Franklin more than two hundred years ago. The problem--and blessing--of the certainty of death is that I don't know when it will occur, and right now I need to place a bet. I am going to bet short on my own life. Is that sad, or empowering?

After my father's parents died, my dad figured that their average life span would be his life expectancy. My paternal grandfather died when he was 79, my grandmother 78. My maternal grandfather lived a healthy life into his nineties, and my grandmother died when she was 81. My mother was adopted, so her parents' life expectancy doesn't bear much impact on hers. One could say that their lifestyle could impact her longevity, but now that my mother is in the late stages of Alzheimer's, all of that is out the window.

Last month, I got a phone call from my former employer asking if I would like a lump sum distribution for my defined benefits retirement program (a.k.a., a pension). Instead of the lump sum which I would add to my IRA, I could take out a monthly payment of about $100 now, or have a greater monthly payment of around $700 when I turn 67.5 years old.

Normally, I would crunch a bunch of numbers and figure out which would leave me with the most money in the end. The challenge here is I don't know when the end will be, and I am betting on my own death and health before I die.

A few years ago, I used my grandparents' age of death and figured my life expectancy would be about 80 or so. Both of my grandparents smoked, and I don't. I figure I'd get an extra year or two added, maybe five.

Then my mother got Alzheimer's in her late sixties. She is seventy-one now. She has a chance to make it to seventy-two in October, but it is very unlikely she will make it to seventy three. I did a quick google search to see if there is a greater chance that I will have Alzheimer's. There is lots of data, which I am not going to look through now. In short, Alzheimer's doesn't run in families, but I do have a three times greater chance of getting Alzheimer's than the general population.

So what to do? I am taking the lump sum. If I do get something bad early on, I'll need the money so I can have proper care. $700 a month won't help much if I need care that costs in the thousands a month. At some point, the money stops when Jack or I die, too. There are few different options, but one says if I live for 5 years after taking payments, my family get nothing.

Jack and I have a decent amount saved for retirement, and we should have the house paid off in a few years. I am not as worried about typical months expenses as am I about the catastrophic costs if I need to be in a nursing home for a period of time. If I am normal and healthy, I can live on the cheap. If I am not normal or healthy, then what? I can reasonably say I don't want to be on life support, but what if I end up like my mom? We can't pull the plug on her because there is no plug to pull. I could as if I get to be non-responsive, put me in the middle of the woods alone for a week and I'll die of natural causes, but I don't want my family to have to make that decision either or get charged with murder.

If you asked me what to do before my mom had Alzheimer's, I might have said I'll bet that I'll outlive the terms of the retirement amount. But now I am betting short, and taking the lump sum.

The Knack: The Boy and His Porsche; Me and My Bike

The Boy loves Legos, or used to love them. His Lego room was out of commission recently because Anita and I were painting the upstairs of the house. I have been trying to ween him from excessive computer and smart phone use. In the past, I've gotten him a large Lego set each summer to keep him busy. One summer, I got him an NXT, a Lego robotics kit. I thought maybe if I got him a new Lego set this summer, he would find something new to do besides play Flappy Birds or The Binding of Isaac, the theme of which is a voice tells Isaac's mother to rid Isaac of evil and lock him in the basement before she sacrifices him. The player is Isaac, and he needs to escape. It is loosely based on the Bible story of Isaac. Loads of happiness there. No wonder the Boy would become depressed and angry after playing too many games.

To solve this problem that cost us $400 for the phone and another $40 a month, we bought the Boy a Lego Porsche. It is expensive. Trust me. It has 2,704 parts and it weighs about 15 pounds. Lego had to redesign the box because the set was so heavy the box was getting damaged when it was shipped to homes. We had to get one at the Lego store because they have a different shipping packaging from the consumer shipping. Anyhow, I am out more than $700 to create and then fix this problem. But I am a huge Lego fan, so I wasn't too depressed about it.

"Do you know why we got you this Lego set?" I asked the Boy on the car ride home.

"So I don't play with my phone as much," he said. At least he got the point without me having a spell it out for him.

The Boy got home and opened the box. He was ecstatic. "This is exhilarating! I am getting 'The Knack' back!" "The Knack" is a line from the movie Hunt of the Wilderpeople which we saw last week.

"Ikea says 'Some assembly required.' Lego is 'All assembly required,'" said the Boy as he was building a set that came with 500 black rivets. I figured he had 500 black rivets at home already, and maybe he could have a gotten a discount for using his own rivets.

"I don't hate the phone," I lied to the Boy. I actually loathe the smart phone. "But limiting your time on the phone gives you time to do what you love."

"$300 is a bargain for getting the Knack back," said Jack. "Too bad it cost $400 to lose it in the first place."


Yesterday, while Boy was at "Magic the Gathering"* tournament at a local game shop, I was getting my Knack back. Jack and I biked to Ballard for lunch again. We didn't realize that most of industrial Ballard is closed for lunch on Saturdays, and that is the only time it is every closed for lunch. We did find a place to eat called Gerald's. I saw their fried chicken and waffle sandwich through the window, and it looked great. When I got inside, the woman next to me was eating a breakfast poutine. While fried chicken and waffles** is a southern and Pennsylvanian thing, poutine is Canadian. Poutine is some kind of gravy and cheese served over a bed of french fries.

**** This next section is for women over 40.  You have been warned. ****

I ask the waitress what I should get -- the waffles and chicken or the poutine. Both looked and smelled delicious. The gravy was made from breakfast sausage and cheddar cheese, and the whole thing was topped with a scrambled egg. It was delicious, except there should have been a warning. I don't need to know the calories, fat content or salt levels. I stop eating when I am full. What I wish they did have was a fiber or constipation warning level on restaurant menus, something like this:

     -- Breakfast Poutine: 🚫💩
     -- Mac and Cheese with Pulled Pork: 🚫💩
     -- Caesar Salad: 🌾👍🏼💩💩
     -- Kale and Quinoa: 🌾👍🏼💩💩💩💩

**** You may now continue reading if you are not a woman over 40. ****

Jack and I rode home, me in fear of never moving my bowels again after eating that poutine. We rode about 14 miles, which was good. I rode faster than the week before, but not so fast. Jack rides a bike with Campagnolo gears. Campagnolo is like the Harley-Davidson of the bicycling world--their parts have a very distinctive sound. Campagnolo gears only makes its special noise when it is coasting, and I heard a lot of this noise yesterday while we were riding. I'd be pedaling my butt off, and Jack would be coasting.

Last night, my knee woke me up a few times with stiffness. I had a hard time rolling over without needing to stretch it out. I don't think I've had a hard time sleeping with my knee since a few weeks after the surgery. But nevertheless, I did sleep. And I am getting my Knack back.



* For those of you who haven't had a thirteen year old son in the past few years, Magic the Gathering is a card trading game.

** I just have to share this fun Cliff Claven "It's a little known fact..." story. Nate's Wings and Waffles is a great restaurant in SE Seattle. We eat there after the Boy has soccer games in the Rainier Beach neighborhood. Nate's Wings and Waffles is owned by former Garfield High School and NBA star Nate Robinson. The Boy has to run sprints for soccer, and he has been timing himself. Since he has been running alone, he doesn't know if his times are fast or slow. We googled 100 meter sprint times for boys his age for comparison. The Washington State Middle School track record for the 100 meter dash is held by Nate Robinson!

Fake Shape: Stationary Biking v. Real Biking

Last week, I got on my road bike for the first time since my skiing injury last December. I had been am an avid cyclist. (I am not sure which tense to use in that sentence yet.)

Last weekend, I rode about 13 miles and the next day I felt like I had done half a century (aka 50 miles). I felt the smallest changes in grade, and shifted gears constantly to adjust. I thought maybe I was tired after my first substantial trip and then I'd feel more energetic on the road later in the week.

Nope. I was pooped after a few short road rides this week. This is after spending all of the winter riding the stationary bike indoors for at least forty-five minutes a day. I had thought that riding on the road would be easy after all of my indoor work. Nope. Here I was, riding forty-five minutes a day and thinking I was getting into great shape. Before my accident, I used to exercise regularly--walking my dog, biking, hiking, skiing, doing yoga and whatnot, but I never made a point of getting forty-five minutes of cardio every day like I have been.

I felt like I had been riding a fake bike and I was getting into fake shape. Riding the road bike wasn't impossibly hard, but noticeably harder. I didn't want any kind of harder. I wanted to get on my bike and tear up the road. My exercise routine on the indoor bike for the past few months had been second rate compared to the real thing of riding on the road.

It was like I was eating margarine instead of butter, carob instead of chocolate. Drinking Sanka instead of Starbucks, Cook's instead of Veuve Clicquot. It was like finding out a ring had a cubic zirconia stone instead of a diamond, iron pyrite instead of gold. It was like I was playing with Flegos (i.e., fake legos) instead of Legos.

For the past few months, I had thought I was rocking it when I was really a slug. And my knee is talking to me again. The plum is back. My knee is stiff, my arms are sore from needing to steer and ice is my best friend again. It was bad and I was depressed.

I told Evan about my road biking experience, and he wasn't surprised.

"People ask me right after their surgery if they can ride a road bike and I tell them to stick the stationary bike for a reason," he said. "Baby steps. This recovery is all about baby steps."

Oy. And so it is. He is right, and I will continue to slog on the road.

1968 v. 2016

Why? Why? Why?

What is the point?

Do they want to kill everyone until no one is left alive? Seriously. What is the point of bringing an arsenal of weapons to a night club or an elementary school? A bomb to an airport? A sniper gun to a vigil? Driving a truck through a crowd of people at a national celebration? When does it end for these people? How many people to they have to kill for it to be enough?

I was just a fetus in 1968, but I can't help think that our world is just as upside down as it was then. So far--thankfully--no major leaders have been shot like Robert Kennedy and Martin Luther King, Jr.* were. We still have two political conventions to get through, though.

My daughter is at camp for a month. While there are many things I dislike about overuse of smart phones, I do like the way my daughter follows current events. She reads the feeds for CNN, The Wall Street Journal, The New York Times and the Washington Post to make sure she gets different political perspectives. Both of my kids knew about the shooting at the PULSE night club before I did because they read it on their smart phones.

She is without internet for the entire month. She asked me to send her clippings about the Presidential Elections and politics. I don't know if I should send her news of terror attacks or shootings. She was at camp a few years ago when there was a mass shooting at a camp in Norway. I can't decide if I am glad my kids are old enough to read the newspapers or not. Claire Adele was one during 9/11. Thankfully, she wasn't old enough to know what was going on.

Today, my kids are old enough to understand. I suppose every generation has its disasters, but I don't recall as much happening in my youth. There was a major plane crash at O'Hare when I was in elementary school when I lived in suburban Chicago. The Challenger blew up, and that was about it. Maybe I have rose colored glasses, but I don't think so.

Please let us pray for peace.


* I was just going to call him MLK, but decided to spell his full name out. I suppose it is special to be so famous that you are recognized by your initials, like JFK, FDR or LBJ. I am sure there are others, but those are the first who come to mind.

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.