Digging Deep

I sent out my fundraising letter today, and I was not ready for what followed. What followed, was an influx of emails from people I wasn't expecting to hear from personally, telling me how touched they were by my story  and thankful that I shared it with them.  

It was such a sentimental moment for me, I was pretty bummed that my day at work was distractingly hectic, and that I wasn't able to sit and reflect at the time.

But now I have some quiet time....

The story  I talk about in my letter was such a pivotal, life-altering experience for me; and the fact that it all happened when I was 10 added a unique twist to it all.  I can honestly say I feel forever changed, and forever different from most, as a result.  

When you're 10, you aren't supposed to be thinking-every single waking moment--about how lucky people are to be able to walk, how many take for granted a gift that they don't realize they even have, and how easily it can all be taken away.  

But I was.  I was thinking about that, and more, at age 10. 

I remember wondering, in the recovery room of the hospital, if any of my friends had been hurt in the accident and if they were ok.  I remember hoping my friend Region hadn't gotten hurt because his family didn't have a lot of money (his dad was a carpenter for our neighbor) and they wouldn't have been able to afford the hospital bills. 

I remember sitting in the wheelchair after physical therapy every morning, waiting for my car to pick me up.  And instead of looking at the faces of passers-by, I would watch their feet, and how they moved and glided effortlessly across the pavement, so unlike my own at the time.  

I remember at physical therapy, I had a crush on this guy who was really into Stephen King.  I pretended to be fond of his books as well, so that I could have an excuse to talk to him and borrow his books that I never read. His name was Mike and he was there because he had polio. 

I remember how one of my doctors was also a celebrity singer in Manila, Nonoy Zuniga. He had a crush on my mom, and found excuses every now and then to come to the house for a "doctor's visit". 

 

I remember, before I was strong enough for crutches, making my way down the stairs in my two story house on my butt, step by step. Or, if my dad was over visiting (my parents were divorced by then), he would carry me up and down the stairs.  

I remember needing help in the shower to bathe. I would sit on a stool while the maid or one of my parents bathed me.  I spent a lot of time on my butt at home, that's how I got around, pulling myself around the house with the help of my arms,  backwards on my butt.  What a sophisticated floor mop we had then! 

I remember being home schooled right after the accident so that I wouldn't fall behind a whole year. It was right after new years, and there were three months left in that school year.  The school had agreed to send a teacher over.  I don't remember how often she came, but I think I was subject to the same homework and tests that everyone else was.

I remember how ugly my leg had looked, with all the gouges and the skin graft, and the scars, and wondering who would ever find me attractive after the damage to my leg.  

I remember covering my leg up with an ace wrap long after it was needed for support, simply because I was embarrassed of how my leg looked. 

I remember going back to school in June, when I was strong enough to be on crutches, and how everyone stared as I made my way down the halls. It was as if no one had ever seen anyone on crutches before.  And slowly after came the teasing and the rude remarks about how ugly my leg looked. 

And the most vivid memory I have, is the day I was able to move my toes.I was acutely aware of God's presence, of life and how miracles happen, and how they could very easily not happen.  I later on thought to myself that since I had probably gotten my "one miracle allotment", that I ought to be careful not to put myself in a situation where I would need another one!

And here I am, all signed up for Mt. Hood!

I remember  my last day at Physical therapy: there was a sort of farewell party for me, and I remember feeling sad that more than likely, Mike would never have one, that he would have to keep going for a really long time, because Polio is not something you can outgrow.  Though I kept hoping that Mike would get a miracle just like me, and that someday he might find himself walking again. 

I don't know whatever happened to Mike, and if he ever got that miracle. 

This climb is for Mike, and everyone else out there who might not have a chance, a privilege, to climb a mountain.  This climb is in memory of my grandfather who died of lung disease. I will climb this mountain with my beloved dog Guss' tireless energy and enormous heart, as I will need both to see me through to the summit and back. 

It is truly a privilege, a gift, that I am able to walk everyday.  And I hope I do not live to see the day I forget this. 

I found a handmade necklace on etsy engraved with the words "embrace your journey".  

The phrase has been haunting me ever since. That's what it's all about: every person has his or her own story, journey, whatever you want to call it.  And it's not about looking at someone else's life and trying to match up to that, but looking at your own and being content with figuring out what you can make of it.  

It sounds like such a simple concept, but in reality it's quite difficult to pull off. 

I hope this experience teaches me to embrace my life's journey. 

The Culprit

So I stopped wearing my boots, and so far so good. My knees are holding up ok. The training has been going ok.  I think two "ok"s in a row equals a "so-so".  I've been swimming, and I went for a short 2 mi run, but at the end my knee felt funny, so I'm kind of hesitant about running. The crappy part about giving it up (for now) is that I enjoy it! If I didn't have the climb to worry about I might keep pushing the envelope until my knee got to the point where the pain was unbearable. 

But, there is the climb, and so I'm thinking of alternatives. And strengthening my legs. 

Biking will be the likely replacement>it works the legs and involves minimal impact to the knees.  But the dilemma with biking is the cold; it's easier to run in the cold than bike in the cold.  And I REALLY hate indoor biking, it's the most boring form of indoor exercise.  Worse than a treadmill.  Hmm.....

The weekend training hikes begin this Sunday.  I can't wait. Except Dean is deathly ill with the flu as I type this, and I am trying not to get too excited about the hike in case I come down with it as well.  Will I manage to skirt the evil flu bug?

Our friends were up visiting over the weekend, so there was much drinking and little resting. One of our friends got sick the day before he left, so that's probably where Dean got his cooties from.  

I don't know what it is about getting older, but it seems as though every day, there is something new to discover about the body.  And that something new, isn't always desirable: Achy bones. headaches. stress. perpetually tired. get sick easily. droopiness where it never had been before. dry hair. must i go on? i am depressing myself. 

Let's see how i fare over the weekend. 

The Cowboy Walk

It was a busy week off.  Once i started feeling better, it was wednesday and I had to fly to SF for work, back in Portland late Friday night.  We went to the gym on Sunday for what I thought was a good work out; I felt refreshed from the week off, ran 2 miles and swam a mile and a half.

 

That evening, as Dean and I were walking to the car to go to the Reach the Summit kick off party, my knee started acting up. I had my new favorite pair of cowboy boots on, going down some stairs and i felt a sharp pain on the outside of my right knee.  A wave of familiar panic rushed through me, as if it were a bolt of lightning  emanating from my leg and into my stomach.  I was taken back to my knee injury that happened while I was training for a marathon almost 7 yrs ago; I had to stop at mile 6. 

Back then, I knew exactly when it happened, which wrong step I took that had set me down a really painful path that lasted months and removed me from the running. No pun intended.  This time, though, was different.  My run felt fine, good in fact. I felt like I had gotten to the point where 2 miles felt like a warm up (I didn't run further because I had guss with me and I didn't want to push him too far).  I was at the point where runs were fun, a break in the day where I could free myself from everything that felt suffocating and weighted.  

And in that single moment, as the pain shot from my knee, my brain quickly rushed into denial.  I didn't want to face what could likely be the return of a long-ago injury.  Because that would mean giving up running at least temporarily, that would mean giving up the escape, and it would mean opening up to the idea of this climb being something beyond reach. 

I still don't want to admit to any of it.  My knee doesn't bother me when I walk or go up stairs. Only down stairs, and only at certain angles.  I'd like to get an MRI done so I can find out what's going on in there.  It's hard not knowing, guessing, wondering, and hoping that it was all a fluke. Maybe my new cowboy boots were just forcing me into a weird walking stance.  

Yeah, that's it.  

Balance

I'm feeling a little under the weather today. If I keep telling myself I'm not getting sick, maybe my body will listen to me. It feels a bit like the onset of a cold, but I'm hoping it's just my body recovering from the physical stress of working out  a lot.  

We went to the gym on saturday...I ran (2 mi) and swam (1/2 mi) and lifted weights. Yesterday was  a rest day, in part due to the Superbowl and in part due to my body's inability to do much else.  It looks like today will be a bit of the same, except that my mind will be occupied with work stress.  Eeew.

I want to talk a little bit about what I've gotten myself into, because I just realized that I haven't really laid it all out for everyone to digest:

-Mt. Hood is the tallest mountain in Oregon, reaching a height of 11, 237 ft.

-The climb will begin at 1 AM from a starting elevation of ~ 8,000 ft. and we should be back at camp by around 10 AM

-The climb is scheduled for the middle of June when the weather patterns on the mountain have stabilized

-Although most of Portland will be in summer mode in June, the peak stays a bit chilly, as the mountain has a glacier on top of it. 

-Average temps during the climb are expected to be in the 20s, and colder if it's windy

-The mountain face and peak at the elevations we will be climbing are covered in snow, which will require the use of crampons, an ice axe for self arresting, and roping into your team mates at certain points. 

-Weekly training hikes with the Team officially begin at the end of February. I've been on a solo mission to get into good shape for this climb, to ensure my safety and to make sure that Dean isn't up at night worrying about me.

More important than all of the statistics above is the "why" of the climb.  Reach the Summit is sponsored by the American Lung Association of Oregon.  They are a non-profit that derives most of its funding from fundraising activities such as this one.  They are also funded by government grants and donations. Their organization allocates their funds towards Lung Disease research, fighting for clean air, and raising awareness on Lung Disease.  

Did you know that every day in America, at least 11 people die from Asthma attacks?  I was astounded by this figure.  I mean, we live in America, where education and research into illnesses is light-years ahead of other countries....imagine what the rates are in third-world nations?