Work Hard Play Hard

I’ve done 10-30 lunges per leg, and 10-30 squats everyday since my last blog. I also added in 15 second wall-sits.

I cannot move after my three sets of ten this morning🤪

Let’s be real though, it’s really barely exercise. I have to hang on to stuff to not topple over. I don’t execute the lunges to even half way. My seconds on the wall counting are *not* punctuated by the word “Mississippi” between numbers.  This morning I’m totally out of breath, and practicing rescue breathing so the lovely Air Monster does not produce a VCD attack.  Menopause hit me hard, and I constantly feel inflamed. Weight isn’t budging, the hot flashes are insane when my herbal remedies are off.

Being 51 is not fun, and I’m the only one who can change that.  This year, my autumn vow challenges me to do that, and so much more.

Early on when I met the Buckeye in 2017, I began vowing things to him. At first, it was a knee-jerk response to his insistence I was “like other women.” 

Them be fighting words….😂

Anyhow, my first two vows were generalized ones, that applied to any relationship. I added two more after we were a couple, as I learned more about him. Those four became my wedding vows.

I should have done a navy lace up. Everytime I look at these photos, that’s what I think.

Then he almost died, and suffered a brain injury in which he largely forgot our relationship.  He was no longer the man I married; at our one year anniversary, I had to decide to stay or go.

I chose to stay, and made that a vow I repeated in front of my friends.

It has not been easy. While I remember who the Buckeye was, and what we shared, he still does not. For him, our relationship largely began after his injury-although occasionally a fleeting memory of those halcyon days pops up. Imagine if you will, waking up from an accident to a person who is madly in love with you…who you recognize, but don’t don’t feel anything for. I actually understand this phenomenon, as it happened to me after my TBI. I looked at my children, my husband and family and felt nothing. My neurologist told me the feelings would return…and they did for my children. But not for my husband, or for my dogs. So to vow to stay with a man who had a much more severe TBI? I knew it would be rough.

But there was hope. Moments of clarity. The ease of daily life - we do love to live the exact same way (minus college football teams.) The flicker of remembrance, the new memories being made.  Yesterday I found the scribbled notes I took on a road trip to California, in early January 2020. It was my initial idea for our now thriving company.  The continual joy we have in our mutual successes are very reassuring; my hope has become rebellious. 

I’ve made him two more vows, always on our anniversary, and always after much prayer. There have been many times I think I can’t continue; TBI’s are terribly unpredictable. Yet through the years I have learned this:  I am capable of much. I can handle more than I thought. I can also grow.  This past month I’ve realized that my vows to him have changed me into a much better person; one who has grown and matured in a positive way. It’s no longer just about him; it’s more about us, and each other individually.

We both admit we prefer us, over all other options.

I know my vow for this year; it came to me on a bike ride back in May. The Buckeye knows it, too; it’s already challenging both of us as we realize it’s much more than we thought it to be on its surface. 

Work hard, play hard.

I adore my husband. I can honestly say I have never loved a man the way I love the Buckeye. Whether he remembers our courtship doesn’t really matter-as I remember it. The depth of healing his unconditional love brought to me I will never forget, nor displace. He earned my unconditional love through some pretty rough waters, in which his patience, faith and wisdom brought me to a place of good mental and spiritual health. This past year, my vow to extend grace taught me so much - and rebuilt some of my lost self esteem.  It is with these new lessons in mind that I realize this new vow is not simply about working the business hard and taking more time off.

It’s about working hard on our relationship. It’s about working hard on our individual health issues. It’s about working hard on our joint diet, of how and what we eat. 

But the play hard?? 

Lol, we have that one figured out, and it’s not only vacationing.

Although being able to vacation again has been pretty wonderful after a three year hiatus!

As I work to develop to habit to do this little workout every morning, I’m also working to notice bad habits that need breaking.  Bad habits that created problems in our relationship; habits that may have brought temporary peace but damaged the heart. It’s not easy admitting you actually create environments for behavior that hurt - and it’s a challenging part of  “work hard.”

That said, the results of my prior vows encourages me to continue to have rebellious hope.

And I get to be a biker chic while doing it!

Things I control

10 lunges, 10 squats 

I can sorta control that while hanging on to both my dresser and my bed.

I can also control how organized things are..,,

Ughhhhhh.

Welp, I’m in trouble, again.

Me and Manchild, the brand new Marine.

Life has suddenly become much better, hence the ability to finally start looking at my health again. You’ll recall it all crashed and burned before due to a wicked eye issue, then a pandemic, then my mother’s death, caring for my dad, and now his passing. 

This morning I am very cognizant of my crunchy knees, the extra 35lbs (did I mention I was 170lbs this spring? Then my Daddy died - I’ve gained 15lbs in just two months!!!) and the fact I gave away all my size 12’s.

Thank God I did.

Lol ignore those girls behind me. I weighed 171 here and was very proud of it. (Sigh, I’ve always had cellulite, even when thin. Genetics are evil.)

So, let’s retrace this fitness quest.

Gave up around Feb 2020.

Broke my rule, bought larger sizes.

Went up to around 195lb (not certain, as I refused to get on a scale for sometime) by the fall of 2021.

Trying the ever popular “crossing my legs to look thinner” pose.

Puzzlemaster Harry got Covid in December 2021, so I filled in for him during our busiest season and climbed 4 flights of stairs several times a day. Dropped 10lbs.

Stopped putting flavored creamer in my coffee, and extended my daily fast, effectively going on a pseudo 16-8 diet.  Continued doing those stairs. Dropped 15lbs.

Dad died, the summer heat started and our seasonal slowdown occurred. That and they fixed the elevator, and stairs in 115° heat just wasn’t my thing.

And I indulged in food for comfort, as I mourned my father, dealt with the Buckeye’s summer TBI troubles, and worried about my children as I raced to catch up on things while I could.

So here we are, 185lbs and barely fitting into 10’s and nowhere to go but down as I gave away all my 12’s.

Sigh.

Manchild became a Marine 10 days ago, which was a huge relief. He spent 5 1/2 months in bootcamp, and never gave up. We journeyed to California to meet him, and then flew to Mackinac for my belated 50th birthday celebration. Upon my return, I know things must change, and finally I believe they can.

The gray skies kept the Fudgies away!

Things I can control:

What I eat

How often I eat

How much I move

My daily routine

Perhaps now I can finally achieve the quest, which is simply to be healthy. After two years of no medical care (long story, I was denied it due to my medical inability to wear a mask. Gee, thanks Air Monster) it definitely seems like a good time.

Right?

Here we go again…

If Manchild can become a Marine; surely I can get fit 😍

Different

I’m not who I was just one year ago, writing about swimming and trying to create a new habit before I turned 50.

My 50th year has been remarkable.

Not in exercise (hahahahahahahahaha, ha!) but interestingly, it’s been remarkable in spirit.

When I met the Buckeye (yes, he’s still my hubby, of now nearly four years) it was on our second date I stated that my first goal in any relationship was to bring the other person joy. As time went on, I added to these relationship promises; the first four became my wedding vows to him. Each year, I have added a new vow to work on - as our marriage has been quite the roller coaster with first,  his job loss and then the devastating traumatic brain injury.  The TBI has tested my mettle; he largely forgot much of our time dating…

Yeah.  

He knew who I was, but not really how we got to that point.  And it’s been very, very difficult.

So each year we’ve gotten through, always hoping for a better future, I’ve made a new vow to him. Year one was to not give up on him-a very solemn vow, as his brain injury was still fresh, and the healing process very slow.  

I did it in front of friend, as I wanted the accountability.

Then the pandemic hit…and we pivoted Ride into an entirely new business. Year two I vowed to forgive him as many as seventy times seven…and I probably did far more than a minimum of 490 times! 

Just us, on the edge of the Mogollon Rim.

So year three, I thought life would be much easier when I told him I vowed to extend grace to him. His brain had healed to the point he no longer had daily outbursts, and my willingness to forgive during the prior year had helped me hear him better when he did loose it. We had been in counseling for about six weeks at that point, and promising him my “unmerited favor” seems almost trite to the prior years’ promises.

My tan is the last remnants of me swimming all summer. My delight in finding an exercise I loved ended when my pool closed unexpectedly the first week of August, the day after my birthday😭

You’ll note my true smiles in every photo.  No matter how bad his injury, and how hard the trials, I absolutely adore the Buckeye.  Our joint counseling basically told me I was simply feeling sorry for myself, and to put on my big girl panties. It truly helped us better understand his injury, and we began trying to focus on what he could control-and working to prevent triggers. So showing him grace?  I thought it would be easy-or at least easier than the prior two years.

Wrong.

I got my nose pierced as a 50th birthday gift from the Buckeye, which I had assumed would be an easy thing, too. 🤪😂😂😂😂. Not.

Extending grace means showing unmerited favor.  Let’s delve into that, shall we? Unmerited means they did nothing to deserve the favor. And favor?

Oh boy.

So essentially, my pool closed (that had been helping with my overall health), our counselor said I was feeling sorry for myself (WELL DUH MY HUSBAND HIT HIS HEAD AND FORGOT ME) and I was now supposed to show my husband favor when he really wasn’t certain why I was still with him after his injury, as he had no memory of us falling in love.

Plus my Mon had died just months earlier, my Daddy lived with us, the Princess had moved back in to help with my Daddy, and we had a business that was about to take a rocket ship ride….

The Princess, my Daddy, Manchild and the Commander last summer.

Oh, and Manchild was homeless most of the time, too, trying to get his life on track by loosing weight to join the Marine Corp.  Thankfully the Commander was doing pretty good by this point!

So the stresses were huge….

And I chose to extend grace.

And my life changed for the better.

Over the last year, I made the habit of choosing to extend grace to everyone. My husband. My father. My son. My daughters. My friends. My customers.  

Myself.

The Buckeye still has his ups and downs. Somedays are tremendously difficult, when his triggers fire and I’m in the crosshairs. (To be transparent-we are talking about emotional issues. There is no violence, just a lot of emotional anger that is very typical in those with brain injuries.) I’ve learned how to not to take it personally (most of the time; I do still fail, however, lol! I’m not perfect!) and I’ve remembered that I have a choice. Admittedly, our incredible success in business has helped-tremendously. 

I mixed my 14 years as a sales trainer with my five years with Ride…and we have the most AMAZING corporate team building activity-ever!!

As days grew increasingly busy, the stresses grew. I had high demands on my time to create and execute new ideas for the business, and it didn’t matter if the Buckeye could support me emotionally. It was my choice to show him grace, it was my choice to look at everything in my life as something to extend grace to.  Manchild’s life was upside down, as he struggled to get to weight to join the Corp while bouncing from couch to couch. Supporting an adult child without enabling them was incredibly hard, as you want so badly to step in and make everything better. Many long showers were had, as I prayed and cried during my only time alone. As the holidays rolled around my Daddy got sick, which landed him in the hospital. When he returned home months later he was bedridden, unable to care for himself other than the ability to feed himself. 

Manchild left for boot camp right before my Daddy came home from the hospital in late February.

At the same time, Manchild was headed to boot camp, and I had grave concerns as he had lost the weight but was not physically ready after an extended six weeks of sickness.  Indeed, six weeks in he was pulled from training to a Physical Conditioning Platoon- and it was rough…it would be nine more weeks before he returned to training. Our busiest season is Feb - April, and we were going nonstop. The Buckeye was limited in what he could do, and it frustrated him even more. My time was divided between the business, taking care of Daddy (the Princess helped tremendously!), trying to encourage Manchild and help my husband deal with triggers.  Then my dearest Daddy died in late May, and the summer heat did it’s number once again on the brain-injured Buckeye.  

Through all of it - every bit - I didn’t exercise. The loss of the pool and the whirlwind of business, coupled with the additional care my Daddy needed meant every waking moment was simply trying to catch up…and then, it all stopped.

The summer doldrums hit, and I caught up on work. We hired others to help us. The Princess made plans to move, and Manchild miraculously became a Marine.

It’s been one year since I discovered swimming. One year since I blogged. One year since the rocket ship took off….

And I’m better for it.

Did I mention I became his biker chic this last year, too? I’m trusting him that he won’t dump the bike-he’s trusting me I won’t abandon him.

I need to return to a sensible diet, and I need to incorporate exercise, again. But first, I need to go home.

To Michigan, and to Mackinac.

Extending Grace has earned me a trip home…and I am hoping it is there the Buckeye will find peace.  For he already knows the vow I will say on the fourth anniversary:

Work hard, play hard.

It’s time to make everything, finally, right.

Sciencing

The latent earth science degree of mine occasionally surfaces from time to time…and the fact I love analyzing data has never left me. So that means I had to do this:
What Happens To Your Body When You Swim

Because this:

After my first bout in the pool.

After many months of consideration, I decided to become a Melrose Makos. This neighborhood pool has been in Phoenix for 60 years this year; the open swim times seemed compatible with my schedule and it was a short 2 minute drive from my house.

It’s 100°+ degrees….so I’m not riding my bike there….yet😎

I *think* it’s 25 yards long? Maybe?

Anywise, you may recall that long ago on this Quest I purchased a wetsuit with the intention of swimming for exercise. Even got a one year membership at Yavapai Community College to use their pool…and promptly forgot all about it.  This time?

Well, there’s that dread “ITS ONLY A NUMBER” birthday coming up. 😱. That and the whole pandemic/no healthcare/Air-Monster-Is-VCD thing.

So while I had a brief stint with successfully hiking this winter, my mother’s untimely death, Dad coming to live with us and the sudden success of Puzzle Rides has left me with no time to hike but better than before health.  Our large group rides had me walking several miles, and I certainly got a beautiful tan and copious amounts of vitamin D. In fact, the pandemic had encouraged me to actually get my vitamin D deficiency in check for a change; a little known hobby of mine is reading scientific papers for fun. Across the board, people who had severe cases of Covid consistently had low levels of vitamin D, along with other comorbidities. Besides the sunshine (yes, I do wear sunscreen, but not a huge amount. I want nature’s way of giving me vitamin D), I did decide to supplement with a pill, as I knew every blood test I’d had in the last two decades showed it as being low.

I know. Shocking. Me, a vitamin supplement??

Did I also mention my hair is currently a natural color? I mean seriously, come on man.

So my Mom dies, Dad comes to live with us. He’s 82, and has a sensitive stomach. 

Did I mention I had an ulcer in January? Cured it with DGL licorice, another supplement (hmmmm.)

Given my recent tummy troubles(ulcer and LPR), the Buckeye’s PKD, Dad’s tummy troubles and Parkinson’s AND the ongoing issues for me with VCD , I did some studying and decided to put us all on the anti-inflammatory diet. Not as a diet, but as a healthier was to eat.  Lots of veggies and fruit, plus more fish.

And things began to change.

I’m still at 181, despite losing 10 pounds and keeping it off. The difference, however? 

Both Dad and I started having less tummy troubles. The Buckeye’s blood pressure went down. Dad started walking better.  I also realized I hadn’t had an eye ulcer in almost a year-My longest stretch has been 6-7 months prior.

So as we adapted (more actual cooking, which is enjoyed by everyone but me) I noted the coming birthday and the fact my knees make noises now when I walk.

The Buckeye laughs and laughs when I tell him about my knees.

Which meant I needed to figure out exercise. 

Because I also struggled standing up from a squat.🙄

In-home stretching seemed the best answer. It was nearly July, and the temps well over 100°. While I was doing significantly better outside than the year before, I was still worried about my breathing-the attacks had dropped considerably, but I still couldn’t wear a simple mask. I couldn’t go to a gym (aforementioned masks), it was too hot to hike or bike. And after trying a morning or two, I didn’t want to stretch in the house I’m alway in. So that left one thing: swimming.

I love to swim. I’m not a bad swimmer, but I’m certainly not a strong swimmer. It’s been ages since I swam, and I began yearning for the opportunity to go. All through June I researched local pools, and was delighted by the neighborhood option.  I joined the 2nd of July, and July 5th I slipped into the not-cold waters.

I swam for 45 minutes.

Well, I was in the water for 45 minutes.

I also learned my swimsuit was NOT SUITABLE FOR SWIMMING.  So I came home, and order the only long, tall suit I could find on Amazon Prime:

Lol, it was $39 for a reason…it’s not attractive.  

My next time in, two days later, I was properly suited. So I tried swimming more, and succeed in 6 laps of backstroke, plus too many elementary backstrokes.

Have we mentioned I’m legally blind in my left eye, and only a wee better in my right? That means I wear my glasses in the water. Which means I only backstroke or side stroke. Which is what you do when you can’t put your head in the water.

Let’s add to this that my dread of walking into a new place is still very much alive. And the fact I backstroked right into the wall on that second day.

I did, however, discover this dress is a great coverup!!

So by the end of week one, I was in the pool three times for at least 45 minutes each time. My third visit I managed 12 laps of backstroke, so I was pleased.  I didn’t feel better (I don’t seem to consistently get that exercise high) but I was enjoying it, kinda.

This past week was week two-and I switched to swimming in the morning instead of evening. I was leery of the heat (it was 108° on the first day, a former trigger temperature last year) and found that while I did have to monitor my breathing (two short sniffs with a long exhale through the mouth) I managed to lose count of my backstrokes. Encouraged, I ordered my next two pieces of equipment-waterproof earplugs and Sun Bum 3-in-1, as I suddenly remembered I have blonde highlights and need to protect them. My middle workout was borderline dull-I could consistently do laps, and the novelty of swimming had worn off-but today?

It was a sassy “workout.”

Listening to music while swimming-WOW. Interestingly, country music sucked to swim to. The best? Worship or more upbeat pop. The aggressive stuff wasn’t quite right either. Anywise, best $35 ever.

“Danger Zone” was flipping fantastic to swim to!

So tonight, two weeks in, six 45+ minute sessions in, I’m watching swimming technique videos to prepare for the arrival of my prescription goggles. Only $20, but they’ll take a few weeks to get here. 

I still weigh 181. The Buckeye suggests it may actually be muscle replacing fat, as I am definitely stronger in such a short amount of time.

That and my knees are no longer sound crunchy🧐

Hence, the sciencing.

Must learn more…and hope more, too. I had a return of the ulcer I didn’t catch fast enough, and when I called my doctor to get in I was stunned to find out I still wasn’t allowed in the office without a mask, regardless of vaccination status or my medical exemption from a pulmonologist.

The only one who cares about my health is me-and it may remain that way the rest of my life.  Luckily, I was able to find out cabbage juice is a natural remedy for ulcers…and after a week of pain, the cabbage began to work its brown magic.

It’s vile. It smells.  It works!

I’m going to be old in a few weeks. No denying it; it’s not a number, it’s freaking over the hill. That said, I have to get serious about staying healthy, especially since I’m likely to be denied medical care for the foreseeable future. 

Now if only I could keep my hair dry while swimming….🤪😄

Hopefully more tales to follow soon!

Patio Time

The Buckeye is sleeping blissfully, surrounded by misters at full blast. It’s Memorial Day 2021...and so much has changed.

I adore this man.

Shortly after my last blog, my mother died.

My 70 year old mom, Linda.

I couldn’t fly to be with her due to mask mandates, and at her death my daughter, the Commander was already en route. Days after her death, she called me sobbing, telling me she was “too young” to pack up the house and tend her grieving grandfather. 

I reminded her I was widowed when I was younger, and asked her to reconsider.

She bucked up, the Buckeye flew out to help as the Princess helped me get our home ready. One week after mom died, my 81 year old father, who has Parkinson’s, flew to Phoenix with the Commander to live with us.

Right as my pandemic-pivot business exploded.

Meet Puzzle Rides:) Ride became this in July 2020, after nearly closing for good with the pandemic shutdowns.

In March/April 2021, I made more than I did in all of 2019.  This is our future, and I’ve thrown every waking second into it.

Which means I’m exhausted, and with mask mandates lifted just weeks ago, I’m not consistently exercising.

That said , I’m always outside.

Year #5 starting the Prescott summer season.

About a month ago I started a fasting diet, since I naturally fast. The change? No cream in my morning coffee; thus not breaking my fasting state. 

I’ve lost 10lbs, and weigh 181....which is what I weighed when the Buckeye had his brain bleed so long ago. The next goal? 175, what I weighed on our wedding day....then 162, what I weighed when I bought my wedding dress. If I can hit 155, I’ll be content the rest of my life...

And I’ve already got clothes that at too big that I need to ditch.

And that feels amazing.

My days are jammed, and I’ve learned I can be creative even when everything around me is wrong. I’ve learned an anti-inflammatory lifestyle of fruits/veggies and lots of fish and meats is a wonderful way to live. I’ve learned that listening to MY BODY (which has never, EVER, liked food in the morning) is the best thing for me. Fasting is easy for me-and that’s what I need to do for me.

Exercise? Well, I do walk quite a bit😂😂 But that we need work on.

We’ve discussed an above ground pool, to enjoy this

summer. I want to swim, and we think we can fit one in.

That it would be a bucket list item? Even better.

For now, it’s a lot of work and no play. Today as the buckeye doses, I’m reminded of the fact it’s been four years since he first told me he loved me.

A lot has changed. All the kids are on their own; Dad however, is now with us. He’s the easiest Daddy in the world to get along with, though:) I’m still fighting to get healthcare and things have been just intense for a very long time....especially since Mom died.

But we go on.

I sincerely hope it is done together.

Emergence

Emergence.

How interesting that the root word for emergency involves process.

The lockdown almost killed me; the process has been hard in many ways.

First, I discovered I can’t do masks.

To make a very, very long story short, after many hits and misses, it turns out the Air Monster is NOT ASTHMA. It’s Vocal Chord Dysfunction (VCD) brought on by Larynpharangeal Reflux (LPR). All these years, my vocal chords have bathed in gastric juices, and are rather sensitive to irritation.  So rapid breathing, heated air, allergens all cause my vocal chords to seize.

Have you ever drank something that “went down the wrong pipe?” That’s your vocal chords seizing up, and stopping the liquid from going in your lungs.  Mine do it randomly due to decades of damage. Interestingly, this diagnosis accurately explains my “failure to thrive” as a newborn and my five years of constant ear infections.

So, no masks for me.  Which means no in-person healthcare, widespread discrimination and general feelings of hate as a supposed “grandma killer.”

Which meant I had a scary summer of depression.

I was unable to exercise outside, as the heat brought on the choking attacks (VCD attacks) and all gyms were closed. Mask mandates meant I was imprisoned at home. Add to that I’m pretty sure a second civil war is afoot, and I became despondent.  Then, the Commander’s rescheduled baptism took place.

 The Commander and the Princess.

It took place outdoors, at a camp in the pines...the same national forest where the Buckeye and I had said our vows, two years prior.  Afterwards they held church outside, all socially distanced.

If you look closely, you can see deer in the woods behind him.

I once heard a sermon long ago that said we all related best to God in one of several ways. That would make sense, since we all have different personalities, gifts, etc. For me-it is nature and worship. That is where I find God.

In the mountains of Prescott National Forest, they had a church service. I don’t remember what was preached...all I know was the worship, in this cathedral of trees, soothed my weary soul.

I was completely broken, yet in a moment was restored.

Eppie Vincente chose Justin Unger’s rendition of the 23rd Psalm...and it enraptured me.

Once in a decade, you have a song that works miracles. For me, it was My Shepherd.  A simple version of a psalm I’ve had memorized from childhood, but with a different start;

“If the Lord you are my Shepherd what shall I want?”

If.

If He is my Shepherd.

At that moment, I knew it was truly, a choice.

And I chose to be restored.

Over the next week, I listened to the song on repeat.  Slowly, my slumbering spirit re-emerged.  It’s emergence awakened my creativity, and I pushed pass my slump.  I had hope again, despite rejection by medical science.

You see, with no ability to wear a mask, I was turned away from all in-person medical care. I had sought treatment for it, thinking it was asthma. My PCP and pulmonologist had diagnosed me via telemedicine, but all testing and surgery (yes, surgery. The Air Monster requires surgery!) I was denied because I couldn’t wear a mask...THE VERY REASON I SOUGHT MEDICAL CARE.

From this rejection, I had retreated. As the Air Monster grew worse and treatment was denied, I grew discouraged....but God saw me. He rescued me as surely as if He had physically pulled me from an abyss.  

Slowly, I began to break from the bonds. I created a faux mask that gained me entry to most stores. It didn’t work in medical facilities, but at least I wasn’t trapped at home. I began researching LPR and VCD...and discovered VCD plagued athletes.  In an obscure article, I found a doctor who prescribed speech therapy to an athlete to control the VCD using the “sniff sniff” technique.  Apparently, two quick sniffs through the nose, and a long exhale through the mouth forced the vocal chords to open.  I practiced it, and awaited the next attack.

I forgot to mention that by June I was waking up from a deep sleep by choking two-three times a week, it was now September, and elevating the head of bed had significantly decreased the attacks to one or two a month. Attacks were also regularly brought on by windy days (dust in the air) and laughter, in addition to high heat, strained breathing and exercise.  I had gotten to the point I used a rescue inhaler two-three times a day (in addition to a daily inhaler before VCD diagnosis.)

Surprisingly, the sniff sniff technique worked MORE EFFECTIVELY than the rescue inhaler!!!!!

This confirmation of my diagnosis, after months of being denied medical care buoyed my soul.  Ever one to buck convention, maybe I didn’t need medicine.

Maybe I needed to learn to breathe better.

I’M BACK.

It’s taken about two months to be able to stop an attack as it happens.  I’m admittedly fat, and it’s time to reverse that (again😂😂😂).  But guess what I did?

I went trail running.

I FREAKING RAN.

My beloved Trail 100.

The Buckeye hikes in Dreamy Draw 3-5 times a week; I haven’t been able to join him due to the never ending heat. This week it’s been in the 60’s though...so I joined him on Saturday.

The first twenty minutes of flat, I focused on only breathing with the sniff sniff technique. I made my first climb, after six months stuck indoors, with no breathing issues.  NONE.

No breathlessness, no coughing, no feelings of passing out.

BECAUSE I HAD FREAKING OXYGEN GETTING TO MY LUNGS.

The Buckeye and I split up at that point, and I was able to test my new idea further. The call of those trails is strong- as I ventured into familiar territory I had to try. 

I had to “run.”

Lol, actually a hopping jog.  For maybe 40 yards.

Yesterday, we went again. This time, we separated immediately-him to his loop hike, me to my old trails.

I have rarely felt so alive.

While my experiment was not without issues-at one point I had a scary attack that I couldn’t control and dove for a rescue inhaler-it reminded me that I can control my outcome.

I have six months of being able to exercise outside. Six months of teaching myself how to breathe. Six months to change everything...if I chose to.

It’s a choice.

Apparently a very dramatic choice 😂😂😂

So, here I go again.

Every. Single. Time.

If at first you don’t succeed, try, try again.

No one will help me? Fine. I’ll do it myself.

Now to not eat the fudge the Buckeye made:):):)

So crazy in love with this man, despite a very difficult two years. I do not recommend newlyweds losing their jobs and almost dying and recovering from a brain injury in their first two years together...but our foundation has been proven strong:)

Last year I started stretching. This year, it’s more. It has to be. What tried to kill me didn’t succeed. So what if I turned the tables and killed discouragement instead? It’s what’s been wrong, all these years. The sadness, the longing. 

If the Lord you are my Shepherd what shall I?

It’s a choice to look first to Him. Then to make wise decisions.

I plan to make His Joy be my strength.

Let’s do this:)