16: Why, why, why??

I did not want to exercise this morning.

Why?

Why does the sloth emerge so fully every morning?  Why did I dread 35 minutes of sets that were relatively simple (but left me drenched in sweat?). Granted, it's spring break.  I wasn't expected to show up to a gym, only had to run to the mailbox and back, then a quick workout in the garage.

Can you see the mailbox?  It's by the road...see how tiny those cars are?  That and it's a 500ft elevation change.

I didn't want to do it.  Originally I had planned a seven mile hike out by Goldwater Lake, and I didn't want to compromise the hike.  I made some fun excuses about having a meeting (which I did have) but then went and did the workout.

Once again, I cried.

Planks do it to me.  Today was the first time I could hold one after pulling the obliques a few days ago, I did three reps holding it longer each time.  As I crumpled into child's pose, the tears flowed freely.  Why wasn't this getting easier?  Why was this so flipping hard?  Why didn't I quit?

Exactly four weeks ago today, I decided to start the fitness quest.  This is Thumb Butte trail, which looks quite differently to me now.  The first three or four times up it, this is what I would have seen, standing at the same spot:

Every week, I saw dirt.  My head was down, searching for air.  Even now, everything is dictated by avoiding the air monster and his friend the excuse monster, Maverick.

Laughing at me, at that.  

Four weeks ago, I stepped outside my comfort zone, and hiked knowing it would be hard.  I expected it to get easier-in ways it has, in ways it hasn't.  The tears today are the culmination of weeks of work and pants that still do not fit, of determination with little visible reward.  While I don't expect a cheering section, a pat on the back (or a zipper that zipped all the way up) would be nice.

Although you'd be amazed what even grocery store flowers would do.

I know I sat for years.  I know my body isn't used to it.  I asked a PT friend today why I hadn't hurt myself more in this early quest (we agreed I had just enough PT knowledge to prevent it; my late first husband was a PT) and why I was still so badly challenged.  He told me to give it time.

Time?  Excuse me, I'm running away to here instead.

So it hurt working out, and it was hard.  So hard, I MODIFIED my afternoon hike to Thumb Butte.  I knew I could do it, and I knew I'd feel better going to my favorite hike in my grumpy exercise state.

This is Abbie, behind me for a change.  She's home for spring break, and claims it's the altitude giving her a hard time.

For a change, I wasn't the only one 40 paces behind (I was still behind, however, because Charlton was with is.  I'm pretty certain he could have lapped us.)

Just before we reached the top, I felt my breathing relax.  I was surprised; it seemed odd to have this little burst.  We walked past a little four year old sitting on the path, his mother trying to coax him along.  He'd had enough, and was refusing to move.  I told him there was a toy fire truck at the top he could play with.  He jumped up fast, and began running.  

"That makes me want to run!" He yelled, as his mom struggled to keep up with him.  "Why is there a fire truck up there," he asked, and I thought of a little boy I had often seen tumbling in gymnastics as his proud papa watched.

"Some firefighters used to run this trail, carrying each other," I said.  "They died, and people wanted to remember them, so the put a fire truck up here."

"How did they die?" he asked, wide eyed.  "They died in a fire," I responded simply.

By then, we had reached the makeshift memorial to the Granite Mountain Hotshots.

"Can I play with it?" the boy asked, mesmerized by the flags, toys and tees left behind.  I pictured Caden Steed, just four when he lost his daddy.

"Of course," I replied.  "Just remember to put it back when you are done.  These firemen had little kids just like you, and these are here for them."

He nodded solemnly, before turning gleefully to his mom.  "Look at all this!"

I fingered the pink ribbon on my pack.  Esse quam videri.  To be, rather than to seem.

Why?

Because I want to be fit, rather than seem to be fit.

Because I want to hike Thumb Butte backwards, while giving an entertaining history talk.

Because there are so many stories to be discovered and told.

Fitness is a quest for me, because I hate exercise.  The love for my children, and future grandchildren dictates I get healthy now, to be there for them in the future.  

It wouldn't hurt to look good in Princess Leia's gold bikini, either.

10: Rebels

This morning I was supposed to hike at 8:30am.  I had told my hiking partner I didn't want to do Thumb Butte, so when he cancelled due to an injury, I was relieved.  No Butte.  Ha.  I had escaped the air-sucking, no-breath monster.

Then I meet Andrew Bogdanov & Patrick Burdell, of Rebel Handcycles.

Patrick, myself & Andrew.

Humbled.

Andrew describes his journey best, and I freely admit I lifted this from his Facebook page:

"Welcome everyone! Glad you can join us on our journey. It started as a tragedy, but it changed into something exciting. Here's how it began.
For those of you that don't know, a hand-cycle is a cycle with 3 wheels that is powered by your arms. It is primarily used by the disabled that may not have use of their lower extremities. It is also used by the able-bodied who enjoy a comfortable seat and an upper body work-out.
Here's a little information about me, how I discovered hand-cycling and how this company was established: I was in a snowboarding accident back on Valentines Day of 2014 that left me paralyzed from the chest down. I was told by doctors that I would be a paraplegic for the rest of my life and that I would need assistance for daily living. I was devastated and angry, not at the doctors, but at the circumstances. Instead of letting it bring me down, I fully trusted God and started searching for ways that I could live a rad life in a wheelchair. As I was searching I came across the sport of hand-cycling. The first time I tried it, I was hooked. It made me feel independent and I was able to get a killer work-out. Hand-cycling made me forget that I was even in a wheelchair!

However, after a few rides I noticed design problems with the bike. I couldn't turn very well, my foot would drag as I turned, getting in the bike was a hassle, and I was getting injured using the bike. I asked around and found that I wasn't the only one experiencing these problems. In addition to this, I wanted to purchase my own cycle. After seeing that these bikes ranged from 3-5 thousand I knew I wouldn't be able to afford one. I knew there was a demand for better quality cycles that were more affordable.
I wanted to develop a better bike but I knew I couldn't do it alone. While pursuing a degree in Entrepreneurship (starting a business) at NAU, I met Patrick. He instantly fell in love with the idea of creating a safer and better hand-cycle. We collaborated and created Rebel Handcycles. Now the journey begins!"

Go now and "LIKE" their page:  https://www.facebook.com/rebelhandcycles

 Yeah.  And I was wimping out of hiking Thumb Butte because I winded so badly last week.  I had been complaining about last night's class, because it was so out of my comfort zone.

Patrick also has a disability, having an injury from birth that ultimately made his right arm smaller and shorter than his left.  After meeting Andrew in Entrepreneurship class, they decided to work together to bring a handcycle to the market that was better designed, more affordable and assessable to everyone, not just those with disabilities.  The energy between the two men was tangible; despite a 22 year age difference they had a partnership that one could tell was going to go the distance.  I sat there, knowing full well that my fitness quest had been compromised by a bad attitude this morning.  If anyone deserved to have a bad attitude, it was Andrew and Patrick.  Instead, the ready smiles on their faces told more than just their stories.  It told me to get off my booty and hike.

Dearest Becky saved the day, and we squeezed in a Thumb Butte hike at 1:30 in the afternoon.  Being in charge for a change, I demanded we go the wimpy way.

That would be to the RIGHT.  Don't let anyone else tell you any different.

Almost immediately, I felt a change in the hike compared to prior hikes.  For one, I could easily chat with Becky as we trudged up the wet, muddy trail.  I didn't need to take a break, and I wasn't swigging water as I usually did.  When we got to the 3/4 point, we took a short break.

On a bench.  Because benches are for sitting on, not hiking past.

Here we were, nearly to the top, and the air monster hadn't gripped me by the throat.  Maverick hadn't shown up.  It was just a pleasant climb, with water flowing freely all around us due to the recent snow melt.  We arrived at the top unwinded, and I took a second to pause at the Granite Mountain Hotshots memorial to touch the pink ribbon now tied to my pack.  "To be, not to seem."

I had been capable of this hike all day.

Even when I decided not to go, even when I complained.  I had become acclimated, and hadn't known it.  The day I had strived for, I almost missed.

It's been tough lately, a roller coaster ride.  Fitness, however, is a choice I control.  Tonight would be candlelight yoga; I hoped for a reprieve from the grueling workouts of the prior two days.  It was good to be greeted by classmates from prior day's classes, and they assured me this was a soothing class.  I admit I was hesitant to accept that; everything this week had been more intense than it should have been (both emotionally and physically.)

The candles weren't real, but it was still a nice effect.

Yoga.  Sweet soothing yoga.  This was my second experience with yoga, and my first true yoga session with a seasoned yoga instructor.  I immediately felt the tension release from my body, and the aches of the prior two days dissipate.  Every move was a suggestion, I liked being in control of my own body.

My body is mine.  And so are these dolls.

Our yoga instructor, Katy, instructed us to find our most comfortable position.  She instructed us to visualize an addiction, or unhealthy relation.  She then told us to see ourselves walking towards a castle in the distance.

I went to the Magic Kingdom twice this year.

She said we had a rope tied around us, attached to a heavy box.  It was slowing our progress.  The box contained our addiction, or unhealthy relationship.

Don't google "Box tied with rope."  Sick people are out there.

She then said we should take a knife and cut the rope, freeing us to run to the castle.

This is a TOPS Firestrike.  It's the second knife I bought the King of Athletics.

Interestingly, in my mind I saw myself suddenly soaring over Main Street USA, like Tinkerbell I swooped the castle.  I was flying over the Magic Kingdom, as easy as if I were Peter Pan.  The box below me seemed very small, and I easily did acrobatics.

Just like Holly & Sebastian.  Brad, she's gonna be a gone Pigeon is you don't get the sawdust out of your veins.

I left yoga refreshed, ready for two more days of workouts I couldn't control.  I could, however, control my attitude and my choices, so sang all the way home.

If William Wallace had a song, I'd be singing that one, too.

Happy 19th birthday, Peter!

9: Sore Jello

My shoulders feel like sore jello.

I have never been so happy NOT to have a morning class; in fact, the rest of the week at Fusion of Movement my classes start at 5:30 or 6:30pm.  While not the best fit for my schedule, it's fabulous for those who work a typical 9 to 5 job.

Because I love Dolly, of course.

So my day started instead with a hike; meeting up with Ered.  We had worked on the one year anniversary exhibit to the Granite Mountain Hotshots; he was the artistic eye, making sure I stayed edited.  

See, I WAS right about the trees.

After five months of seeing each other frequently, it hadn't been since fall that we had spent time together.  We decided to hike to the ancient alligator juniper saved by the Granite Mountain Hotshots during the Doce Fire, a mere week before they lost their lives in the Yarnell Hill Fire.  The Forest Service had placed a monument at the tree, and we were both anxious to see it.  According to local tradition, one must be brought to the tree -it's not on a map- and having been there with the King of Athletics of the Central Highlands a year before, we figured it was the perfect adventure to take together.

I lied.  I did hike between 11/2012 and 2/2015.  This may have been one a half dozen times.

We set today as the day two weeks ago; yesterday's snow had melted at my home by this morning.  Ered called and said he had fresh snow at his house; we agreed to meet and check the trail head before deciding to hike.  Driving out from town the snow cover thickened, wrapping itself around every exposed branch and limb.  It was utterly enchanting; I called it "fairyland."  We decided to push on, and found the trail covered with snow, but visible.

Bunnies had gone before us.

Going only from memory, we headed to the tree, slowed little by the snow.  The offshoot trail to the tree would likely be covered by snow, so I used a burned field in distance as a landmark.  I was easily able to see the juniper from the main trail, but the dry creek bed Tom & I had walked across a year ago was now a seven foot wide raging creek.

I considered going barefoot at one point.

We went downstream, finding a spot we could skip stones.  Due to this we approached the tree from behind; and saw the most wondrous thing:  It was breathing.

Steam?  Or was the tree alive?  Of all the days to be there!

Here it is, in all it's 2nd-Largest-Alligator-Juniper-In-The-World glory:

The small object to the left base is a marker commemorating the tree's saving by the Granite Mountain Hotshots in 2013.

Our visit was truly magical.  The snow melting on us, the steam rising from the tree, and rather suddenly, large chunks of snow falling right next to us.  

As if we were being aimed at.  

After one near miss I laughed and yelled out, "You keep missing me, Steed!"  Caden's dad was the only one of the Granite Mountain Hotshots I had known personally, and had sat through many a gymnastics class together, watching our individual children tumble.  Ered and I agreed; all of our hard work on the exhibit had been worth it.  The morning hike was truly perfect in every way; made all the more special when Ered handed me this pink marking ribbon while we stood under the tree.  He had found this ribbon while hiking in the burned area of the Yarnell Hill fire, after all the investigations were done.  Granite Mountain Hotshot Superintendent Eric Marsh had been marking the area with these tagging ribbons earlier in the day before their death.  I tied Eric's ribbon to my backpack, and told Ered it would stay there throughout my fitness quest.  As the curator for Prescott Fire Department, I wrote all the exhibit text; I know full well what Hotshots are required to do for physical fitness.  I'm a long way off from that; hopefully having the ribbon on my pack will remind me "to be, rather than to seem."

Eric, Jesse, Clayton, Carter, Bob, Wade, Kevin, Joe, Garret, Chris, Turby, Scott, Sean, Billy, Andrew, John, Tony, Grant & Dustin.  Never forgotten.

We made the return hike quickly; the rising sun had the washes full and the trail was squishy underfoot.  We agreed it had been a wonderful adventure; the old Prescott tradition of only taking someone to the tree had been upheld.  

I'm smiling because I did not know what Pilates was like.

Waiting until evening for a workout works well for many people; for me, not so much.  I had just enough time to pick up my daughter from school, drop her at home and then head down to Fusion of Movement for a modified Pilates class called Core Fusion, taught by co-owner Sasha.

So many people, it must be easy, right?

Having never done Pilates before, and having just one yoga class under my belt, I was a little apprehensive; especially because I was still sore from the workout the day before.  I was delighted to be greeted by Sara, who had attended the class the day before with me, and who reported that she was also super sore!  That blessed me, knowing I wasn't the only one.  As we waited for the prior class to finish, I chatted with the other women.  They all spoke very highly of Sasha, and relished the workout to come.  Tim Gunn had shown up with me, and I was determined to ""make it work!"

I took this picture after I had collapsed, unable to do another rep.

It was tough.  Real tough.  I must be honest and say I had a hard time modifying these exercises as the modifications required being on a knee - and mine is still heavily scabbed and really sore after falling on Thumb Butte last week.  (I'll show blood pictures, but scabs?  No.)  Maverick the Excuse Monster showed up and told me it was "no good," and I realized the struggle at this point was very real.  My muscles simply could not complete even ONE of the reps in some sets; I began to feel as if I had made a colossal mistake.  "This is why women never return," Maverick whispered.

I had to fight it.  I would not stop.  No matter what the movement, I would find some part of it that I could achieve.  I looked to the lady on my right.  She was struggling.  I looked to the lady in front of her.  She was struggling.  The one in front of me was perfect.  To my right, she struggled.  None of them gave up - they just kept trying.  The music was pumping, Sasha was encouraging - the room of over 25 people kept going, even though only a few did what Sasha did.  Everyone else did what they could-and that was ok.  So I did what I could - and it was ok.

I have never, in my life, been so happy to see a class end.

It's not that it was hard to breathe - I could breathe just fine.  It was a combination of several factors - the music, the motions, the instructions - my brain got a wee bit overloaded.  One of the old neurological symptoms from my head injury.  I kept the car quiet, thinking about the class.  So, Pilates wasn't for me at this time.  That's ok.  But did I ever want to be that strong?  Could I ever be that strong?  It worried me a bit.  I needed to rethink next week's quest - I knew now what I had planned wouldn't work for me...in fact, I would be in danger of quitting.  THAT, I could not do.  I was determined to head home to re-access.