the aftermath

When Amaya first asked me to do the walk as a family I said, "Ugh"

So far out of my comfort zone

So not ready even after 12+ years

But Royce and Amaya chipped away

With their increased closeness from last years walk

Shared memories that are theirs alone

I have three brothers

We rarely call each other just to chat

We are comfortable in the knowledge that we are there for each other

We move along in our lives

Coming together to celebrate milestones along the way

Then scattering back to the day-to-day

My dad was not big into idle chitchat

He was, however, into family

He would watch the chaos

Chime in from time to time

Discuss art, music, history, anything

Or just sit

Silent

Observing

Marrying into this family comes with a price

We have a gene that means...

We don't always communicate

We feel comfortable sitting

Silent

Listening

Observing

It doesn't mean not caring

It doesn't mean not interested

It just is

It is difficult to change patterns

To compliment

To praise

To discuss rather than decide

To ask for assistance

To accept help

To realize that it is okay not to be in control

Not to be perfect

This past six month have been tough

A lot of buried memories have surfaced

There were a lot of questions, some for which I had answers and some that I never will

It made look at where I was, where I am, and where I want to be

So Saturday, June 9th, we walked

Amaya, Royce, Taylor, Jessica, Melissa, Mari, and I

In my head the plan (there must always be a plan) was:

Arrive at 6

Start walking at 7

4 miles/hour

Finish at midnight

Home by 2

Done

Get back to normal

Not so much

It was more than that

It was being in a sea of people that in some way, shape or form knew first hand what you had been through

It was seeing the immense amount of support that flowed from one group to another People that you had never met and would most likely never see again but shared a bond with forever

It was knowing by seeing the colors of the beads they wore around their neck who they had lost

And surprisingly it wasn't grim

Maybe it was the adrenalin

Maybe it was keeping track of my "peeps"

Acting as "momma bear" as Melissa called it

Maybe it was Amaya constantly yapping at me to watch where I was walking

I didn't fall and break anything, which seemed to be a big concern of the kids

The weather was picture perfect

Walkers and bystanders were friendly 

There was a sense of camaraderie 

Of helping everyone complete their walk

Royce pushing a woman in  a wheel chair up a hill (big BIG hill) until he ran out of steam and another walker took over

Taylor doing her power walk at 3 am 

Pictures at the mile markers

Sometimes we walked in a pack

Sometimes we were more spread out

Each in our own little space trying to make sense of it

What it meant to each of us

And who we were walking for 

Walk

No you can NOT have a 20 minute rest

Walk 

Really

Walk

Do you want to get into the sweep van

No

Then walk

I do sleep deprivation well

I do focus well

I do not do whining well at all

I apologize to any and all that I snapped at

The ride home was very quiet

Except the part where we almost got taken out by a red zoom zoom car cutting across 4 lanes of traffic

I think Walter heard words he had never heard before strung together in a way that was creative to say the least

Again, I apologize 

Pain relief soup

2 Tylenol

1 Advil

1 Aleve

Follow with 2 Tylenol and 1 Aleve 6 hours later

NOT a recommendation, but no sore muscles or blisters

I would like to say that seeing all the friends and family at the house was more than I could have ever imagined

The melding of so many people from so many different stages of our lives was truly remarkable

I think Richard would have been pleased

That friends and family are are reconnecting

That we are all, in some way, getting a degree of closure

I am now trying to get back to normal

Normal was changed by the walk

It's been like taking a pickle out of a new jar of pickles and then wanting to put it back in

Nearly impossible and messy

So I am moving forward

Slowly

And as always, trying to control the mess

choices

Walked outside to escape the house

The list of what needs to be done inside keeps growing

The yard made me blanch

All the work done in the last few weeks has been overgrown by new plants

A lot of the spring flowers have now gone to seed

Can't get through the walkway without tromping on something that decided to grow between the pavers

Couldn't go far since my electronic leash was on and I continuously am hearing sirens today

It is a beautiful day so lots of folks will become weekend warriors and end up in the ER and then the OR

A 20 minute heads up is what we get when needed

In the seventies someone said, perhaps Gloria Steinem, women could have it all.

Be a great wife, mother, daughter, friend, cook, housekeeper, gardener and do what ever full time job you wanted.

I am here to testify that she was wrong

It is all about choices

What goes to the top of the list

What continually stays at the bottom

How can you be 100% present when one part of life is going to hell and all the other components also want 100%

Last week was as near to perfect as life has been in a long while

Walk, swim, garden, cook

See family and friends

Plan for the overnight walk

Get up when the sun says to

Eat healthy and when hungry

Stay up late and watch really bad TV

Have the phone and pager off

Then life kicked back in

Ruled by alarm clocks, phones, pagers and schedules

Training walks... none

Swims... a short one last night 

Gardening... none, there are still three huge piles of branches (two in the front yard and one in the back) that Royce and I created from pruning trees the week I was off 

Cooking... not so much, frozen waffles, yogurt, cereal, tortillas with melted cheese 

I had the fantasy that before the Overnight Walk

               I would actually have found and bought living room furniture I love 

               The paint cans would be out the the dining room

               Paintings would have been hung on the walls

               The garage would be clean and all the extraneous stuff in the house would have been disposed of

               People could walk though the courtyard to the front door without having to duck and weave to avoid getting smacked by branches

               I would have pruned the trees outback to allow in a bit more sun

               The walkways would be clear of volunteer plants 

               The spaces between the pavers would be filled with ground cover without divots

               All gophers would be banished 

               All the beds outback would be deadheaded and beautifully blooming

                

In reality

             Folks will need to sit on folding chairs or stand because there will be no living room furniture

             The walls will be devoid of paintings 

             Paint cans will be banished to the uncleaned garage to free up floor space in the dining room for folding chairs or card tables

             Practice your duck and weave

             Bring a sweater, the back yard is shady

             No high heels, the gophers are not going anywhere except from one bed to another

             I will have pruning sheers for those that would like to deadhead and take seed pods home

             Food will reign supreme

             

Because I choose to celebrate with family and friends, everything else can wait

coming down the home stretch

Let's just say that perhaps I should have started a bit sooner with this training thing

I go to Target as an "adventure" and a "destination"
I found that it is a mere 14 miles from the house
I will have to go an additional 4 miles on the overnight walk
That is into Gizditch country
Another destination to pick berries
Pounds and pounds of them, but I get there by car
And it takes a full day

So I started the new schedule
Swim one day (2 to 3 miles)
Walk the next (4.5 up to 8)
This is working because I am not working this week
What happens when I go back remains to be seen

Swimming is the easy part
The water temperature doesn't vary more than a degree or two
I would like to believe that there is no sweating involved
And I do believe because I don't get hot and sticky (and please don't tell me otherwise)
The scenery doesn't change much
The regulars get in, swim, get out
Not much chatting (rule one of women over 50: do NOT talk to me when I am wearing a Speedo)
Occasionally there is a jaw dropping swimsuit 
And while it is noteworthy it is a rare occurrence

Walking is different
I am now walking on roads and through neighborhoods
There is new scenery every trek
Some days it is hot and icky
Others it is cool and foggy
At times the wind is problematic
It grabs my hat and I look like I am having a seizure while I attempt to catch it before it lands in the roadway
You would think that as a somewhat intelligent human that I would have tied a string on the damn thing to attach it to my head but that would be too easy and the general public would no longer be able to cheer, honk, wave as they drive by  and have fodder for the morning water cooler klatch

I also find that I think about food a lot when walking
Perhaps because I get hungry 
Perhaps because I am bored
I know I eat when I am bored 
On Monday I designed an entire menu on foods that were growing in yards, on  hillsides and the occasional piece of roadkill
Amaya said she would not eat one thing that I described
I thought that the dandelion and miners lettuce salad sounded very mainstream
Grilled cactus
Lavender sorbet
Raccoon with acorns, bay and sage, probably not so much

I keep changing the route to increase the distance
It gives me more yards to peruse
Yards to return to in the dark of night to take just one small clipping of that really unusual plant
Julie has suggested that it would be better to ask
She is probably correct
Orange jumpsuit don't really suit my coloring

People never cease to amaze me
The runners run
The biker ride 
The walkers walk
Some smile, some nod, some completely ignore the fact that I am present
So I design a fantasy of all of their lives
Based on nothing  more than their looks, carriage, attitude
I am fairly sure that I am wrong 10 times out of 10 but it keeps me amused
I am also fairly sure that most of the people would be stunned by the life I have assigned  them
Perhaps intrigued, but stunned none the less

And all the while I am equally sure that a fair number are creating a story in their own head about me 

45 days to go

I am sure that I will finish the walk

Probably very gimpy
Partially due to the fact that I am not 30 (okay, even 55) any more
Partially because I have very little time to train
I expect blisters and a sore hip
Nothing that soft socks and a handful or two of Tylenol can’t cure

But it is really not about the walking

It is the head
It is the heart

It is all the memories
The good and the bad
The terribly funny and the just plain terrible

Life with Richard was good for a long time
Then it was bad
Then it was over

I could have made a career out of “if only” and “what if”
But it would not have changed the outcome
When he died our lives turned upside down
Everything was forever going to be different

I have spent more time thinking and talking about our life together in the last month than I have in the previous 12 years
It is very strange for me to spend so much time focusing on something that has a outcome I could not change
To share with friends and strangers alike a part of my life that I still don’t have closure for
Richard used to say that I could compartmentalize better than any person he knew
I do not believe that he meant that as a good thing
But he was oh-so-right

So little by little I share more
I smile more I laugh more
In memory of Richard
Who could make a room brighter just by being in it

rain, rain, go away. walking can go away, too, please.

It is pouring rain for the third weekend in a row.
I know we need the rain, but really. How about the weather Gods rain on Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday nights between midnight and 6 am?
Just asking.

So, the walking thing:

Last I wrote I was feeling pleased with myself and a bit smug. I was up to four miles at a stretch with some jogging/running thrown in. I was really feeling like this was not going to be much of a problem. Walking the streets of San Francisco (not to be confused with street walking in San Francisco) with Amaya and the rest of the gang should be fun -- they are all really great young people who are smart and funny. Being up all night, not very different than work except it will be out of doors, no charting involved and if I get tired I can stop, eat, window shop and know I will not have to be awake, alert and ready to work at 7 am the next morning.

But life happens as you are making other plans.

All it takes is one misstep.

On the first foot plant of the jogging portion of a session something went very wrong with my right hip. Let me just say that not putting weight on a leg makes it very difficult to walk. And putting weight on said leg was very painful. I spent the next two weeks walking as little as possible. I knew it wasn't a muscle thing since if no weight was on the leg there was no pain.

Had I been a normal human I probably would have seen a doctor (other than at work and having to explain why I was hobbling around) and had an Xray of my hip. *

But I am Cleopatra -- Queen of denial. And of the firm belief that rest, eating well, and large handfuls of Tylenol can cure most anything. Truth be told, had there been something wrong on Xray, I would have had to be compliant with the doctors orders -- which may or may not fit into my plans. Because I believe that if you ask for an expert opinion you jolly well should follow it, therefore don't ask if you don't want to know the answer.

As I said, Cleopatra.

I went back to swimming after about three weeks. It wasn't that swimming hurt it was getting to the pool from the parking lot.

Decided on Tuesday to wear something other than jeans and tennis shoes/flats. Had a bunch of errands and wore my favorite 3 inch heels. Hip not so happy. Back to tennis shoes.

And now, back to walking.
Short amounts.
On flat surfaces.
NO jogging.

We have about 9 weeks before the big walk. I'll be ready.
Or the kids can pull me in a decorated wagon.
I could wear Kohl on my eyes and pretend to be Cleopatra.

* Edit from Amaya:

Text message from doctor friend: "Your mom is limping."

Thirty seconds later (phone call):

Me: What did you do to my mom?
Him: I didn't do anything to your mom. She hurt herself though.
Me: I know, giving you a hard time. Walking or jogging to something. Can't you fix her?
Him: I would love to if your mom was the type of person who could accept help from people.
Me: Yeah.... sorry about that. Sort of runs in the family.

walking update and a stream of consciousness

Walking is harder than it looks.
I started walking at about 11 months which was a LOOOOOOOOOOONG time ago.
You would think that I have it all figured out by now — one foot in front of the other.
No big deal.

The thing is that in my usual life walking is very prescribed:
Eleven steps from bed to shower.
Twelve steps from shower to refrigerator.
Eight steps from refrigerator to front door.
Twenty steps to car.
Sixty eight steps from parked car to door to work.
From there it is kind of a crapshoot.
The day dictates how much scrambling there is in the florescent jungle.
Then away I go in reverse.

All of these places have flat surfaces; they are very well known places. I could most likely walk with my eyes closed without a problem.

However…

In the real world it is much different.
Sidewalks are not flat, they have chunks missing and roots pushing them up. They have curbs that step off to the roadway. The roadways have cars, which may or may not stop when you are in a crosswalk. They have stop signs, which at times seem to be suggestions and not the law. Then there is the gravel that is on top of the sidewalk/roadway, slippery stuff and gritty when fallen upon.

Then there are the gazelles. You know the ones I mean — they have legs that go on forever, 6 foot strides, they blast by you, blonde ponytail swishing, in lycra and a sports bra. It can make scattering gravel seem like a marvelous idea.

And then we get to focus or lack thereof — there is a lot to see — So I gawk:
At people
At yards
At signs
At trees
At soccer games

This is why sunglasses were invented, so people can’t see me gawk. They can, however, probably figure it out from the open mouth dropped jaw and the slow shaking of the head side to side. I have no problem saying that I am just readjusting my neck if questioned.

Boredom also plays a part. When bored I talk to myself. Most of the time the conversations take in my head but from time to time the conversations are out loud for the world to hear.
Usually just musings on the day, or planning what to buy at the store. Rarely a full blown rant on the miss-justice of whatever. The kids were ever so overjoyed when earbuds came out – that way when talking to myself they hoped people would think that there was someone listening to me through cyberspace on the other end of the ear bud.

So, yes it has been a learning curve. Yes, I have been walking 4-5 miles 3 days a week. I have even added in a bit of running and this is from a woman who has always sworn that I would only run if it were raining AND someone was chasing me with a gun. It is getting easier and less of a push. It helps that my best friend is getting ready for a marathon and is willing to spend part of her training time with me. I have found that I do best on a track –
there are fewer distractions, the ground is more level. I see the same faces most days.
I have even smiled a time or two.

I do still wish that there was a swimming option. It would have been sooo much easier.

overnight walk 2012

Today I bought shoes.

Not the kind of shoes to make me feel pretty and counteract looking like an aging Smurf 40+ hours a week at work.

No, these are walking shoes.

Shoes that I plan to walk in.

A lot.

Last year Amaya and Royce joined forces in New York for the Overnight Walk with the American Foundation of Suicide Prevention. 18 miles. Overnight. In honor and remembrance of their father.

I, on the other hand, was not ready. New York is not my thing. And I am not the kind to march for a cause or share with the world.

I did, however, see the difference it made in Amaya and Royce’s relationship. In Royce’s self esteem, and his ability to define what he wants out of life and to stand up for himself. It opened up our ability as a family to share the good, the bad, and the day-to-day struggle to keep moving forward.

This August will be twelve years since Richard’s suicide. Six months shy of half of Royce’s life.

This year the walk will be in San Francisco.

The weekend of June 9th.

I will be walking in remembrance of Richard.

And to thank him for the greatest gift he ever gave me: Amaya and Royce.