Finding My Inner Jock

I've never been a jock. Far from it. I was the last kid chosen in elementary school games. I never once won a Field Day ribbon. I've always been uncoordinated and I hated every minute of every PE class I ever had to take. 

But today, I think I got a glimmer of my inner jock. I have not only found a form of exercise that I come back to several times a week, I am seeing significant increases in my strength and stamina. Since this comes in the same year that my back has given me one problem after another, severely limiting mobility and exercise, it is doubly thrilling to me.

Last spring, a local non-profit organization gave me a scholarship to take a beginning sailing class, something I've always wanted to do. As it happened, I was dealing with significant pain during the 6-session class, and also had quite a bit of anxiety about tipping the boat over, a worry I'm still struggling with. I wasn't quite ready to give up at the end of the class, but with no sailing partners in sight, I was never able to go back to it.

Not long after the class ended, a cortisone shot relieved the neck pain I was feeling. The sailing venue also keeps paddle boards and kayaks around for their more casual customers. A friend was taking an advanced kayaking class at the same beach, and I had enjoyed kayaking in the past. I made a deal with my friend to meet her there on her class day, so I'd have motivation to show up. 

The weather was hot, the lake was there, and thanks to their generous policies for disabled folks, I paid $25 for a season pass. Within days, I was motivating myself, and had taken to sitting on a paddle board with my feet in the water to cool off. It was hot out, Seattle-style – 85°F! I started out paddling up the lake to a beach roughly 1/2 mile away, and was quite thrilled to make it there and back the first time I tried.

At the time, I couldn't carry a kayak by myself, couldn't stand up after paddling without the help of the paddle and significant struggle, and that trip up to the beach and back was quite enough for one evening. I was hooked, though, and I kept going back.

My neck quit acting up after the shot and some PT. Then my hip started making it so painful to walk that my mile-long dog walks changed from several times a week to non-existent. Stevie and I had to make do with a few short walks daily. PT helped my hip to some extent, and we are walking to the dog beach once or twice a week now. Now my lower back is unhappy.

However, my physical therapist and I realized that the kayaking was helping my back and my general well being immensely, so I kept it up, happy to have something physical to do that didn't result in more muscle spasms or pinched nerves. Slowly, I started carrying first the light-weight paddle boards back to the rack, and sometimes lugging the kayak one way, even though it was a struggle. I discovered that jumping off the paddle board into deep water both helped whatever parts hurt (the buoyancy of water is a great gift!) and also avoided the issue of trying to stand up after kayaking. I couldn't begin to right a turtled sailboat or climb back into one during the class, but I started practicing climbing back on the flat paddle boards, a much easier proposition.

I've had a great summer, with the highlight being the trips to the lake to paddle whatever craft I chose that day. A couple of weeks ago, I saw myself in the mirror sans tee-shirt and realized that for the first time in years, I had arm muscles. Big arm muscles! The first inklings of jock-ability crept in!

My paddles got longer, because going to that nearby beach and back wasn't enough any more. What used to be an hour-long trip now takes me about 35 minutes. One calm day, I even made it across the lake. A week later, I paddled to the beach and back in 17 knot gusts. Bragging about that impressed even my highly experienced, energizer-bunny kayaking friend!

My confidence in my ability to do things I wouldn't have tried at the beginning of the summer has increased. I haven't yet climbed back into the kayak by myself, but I think I could with the help of a paddle float. Having confidence about a physical skill is such a rush!

Today, I carried the kayak to the water and realized that it was fairly easy to do, not a major struggle. I paddled to the beach, and thought I might take it easy, because my arms felt a little sore. By the time I was ready to start back, the wind had picked up, and I felt ready to do my usual longer paddle. I realized I was paddling at a pretty good clip, and that it had become an aerobic exercise. When I got back to the put-in, for the first time, I stood up without using the paddle as a crutch! And although it was hard, I carried the kayak back to the rack and put it away.

I had to beg an ice cream from the dockmaster (I didn't have my usual $1, so I'll pay her later), but boy, oh boy, am I psyched. I think I might be a little bit of a jock after all. Now all I have to do is figure out how to keep paddling through the winter!

Woman and Dog

Several months ago, one of the fixtures of the early am dog park crowd lost her 4 year old German Shepherd (GSD) very suddenly to cancer. Barleycorn* was a puppy mill dog, so disturbed that all she could do was pace in circles. Inga is 70ish, walks slowly with a cane and probably has emphysema.  She has been rescuing and training GSDs for 50 years.

She trained Barleycorn to be her service dog and one would never have
known the dog's history from the way she blossomed and took care of
Inga.

When Barleycorn died, Inga, a strong, proud and stubborn woman, stopped coming to the dog park and, last I heard, broke off contact with most of her dog park friends.

Today, I stopped by the park late morning, and recognized Inga's car,
thanks to the "Well-behaved women seldom make history" bumper
sticker. (Did I mention I like and respect this woman?)

She was just coming up the walk, reaching for every breath and accompanied by Daniel, a black and tan, 5 month old GSD pup. He gave me a shy kiss, but made it clear that Inga is his charge and his person.

Daniel has big feet to fill, following after Barleycorn, but he is doing
his very best. The cycle of woman and dog being very good for each
other begins again.

*names changed for privacy

A tinge of rose, a tinge of hope

2013 dawned clear and cold, sunny and rosy, frosty and chill. We went to the park by the lake and walked along the shore. Scraping the car went easily, and the defroster was just starting to clear the windshield when we pulled into the parking lot.

Sun lit the bits of fog floating above the steamy lake. The light was pink, and a sailboat etched in the haze was a solitary figure floating on reflective liquid silver. I wished for my camera, but will have to make the words paint the pictures this morning.

The Cascades were sharp silhouettes against the blue. Although they are white with snow this time of year, they were dark shadows this morning, jagged and distant.

The pink light of sunrise played off the mist and the cold. A single paddle-boarder (dressed Seattle-style in hat, coat, shorts and flip-flops) appeared out of the cloud, a distant figure prompting me to comment that only a guy would be dumb enough to be out there in this freeze.

But Seattle is Seattle, and January 1 is January 1. The recent addition of a line of Porta-potties herald the event of the day, the noon-time Polar Bear swim, with a new “Polar Bear Club” right beforehand, “a special time just before the "Polar Bears" for younger folks or people needing a little more room.”

A young man and a rosy-cheeked woman threw a stick for their Aussie, the remnants of an early breakfast on a nearby picnic table. The Mallards gathered near the shore, the water shiny and reflective, a tinge of fuchsia above the silver. A fat squirrel, probably triple his summer weight, streaks across the frosty grass towards the line of trees still showing green, Camellias, a tall Madrona, and the red-barked cedars.

Finding it within his awkward silhouette to soar, a merganser lazed through the mist, and 2013 dawned clear and cold. Obama won major concessions last night – he seems tougher and more resolute, if that is possible – in this second term. The future seems more rosy than a year ago, a tinge of hope above the gray.