Congratulations to Beat for retiring. I wish I had done it earlier and enjoyed more years with my husband without me being stressed out and grumpy. Absolutely never know what's in store for you down the road. I have loved the daily pop-ups of photos from the past as reminders of all the good times when my husband was still alive. And many times I look at the photos and think, "little did we know what was going to happen." May sound like a tired trope but it's true: live every second fully.
It is so true, though. Today, my Facebook memories reminded me that five years ago on this day, I was in Canyonlands with my Dad and Beat. I nearly didn't go because I was very COVID cautious in 2021, and Beat and I had just barely had our vaccines a few days earlier. I'm so, so glad we made it happen. I scrolled through the photos this morning and thought "We really had no idea" — same as the sentiments you shared.
I've managed to return to Canyonlands around the last weekend of April every year since 2021, to visit the spots where we spread my dad's ashes in 2022. I had plans to go this weekend, before my injury. I am feeling more bummed about having to give this up than I was about dropping out of the White Mountains 100. It's always the quieter things that end up mattering the most.
I know it sucks, big time. I have two knee replacements and have been able to hike instead of run for years now. My long hikes took the place of runs. And, now,, as I’ve aged (76), the long distances have dwindled. I’ve been finding things to enjoy while I still hike and still push it. Some days are slow with stops for drawing/painting, flower ID, etc. Other days, though, are still pushing distance. My speed has slowed a lot. It is not easy, I still have a hard time not being the fastest or strongest. But life is a constant adjustment/adaptation to whatever we have to deal with. I am trying to thoughtfully adapt and find interests that add to my trail time. I am sorry you are going thru such a tough time, I hope you heal quickly and well. You are strong, even on days you don’t feel it. Your good heart and desire to move will give you the strength to continue.
Thank you. I am trying (and I believe I am at least beginning to succeed) at cultivating a better appreciation and gratitude for the quieter sides of life. I've been chasing big hits of experience for so long that it's tough to come down. But as you pointed out, limitations come for us all if we are lucky to live long enough to meet them.
I hope the best for you. I love running; in the 90s I did a 25K road race, and while my running history is on and off since then, as late as 2019 I was able to do easy 10-mile runs, which were great for my mental health. Since then, I've had medical problems (DVT mostly, due to a genetic problem) that result in my left foot going numb after about 20 minutes or running, and then spinal disc hernias that have added more problems. I can still hike and bike without many problems, though, so while I still hope I will once more be able to go for long slow runs, I also hope that if that proves not to be possible, I'll enjoy doing what I can. I take inspiration from my 83-year-old mother-in-law. She has been reliant on a wheelchair for nearly 3 years, but she tests her limits often and does as much as she can within them. (I say "reliant" on a wheelchair because she can walk short distances with a walker, and get in and out of cars: there is a huge difference between being confined to a wheelchair and being reliant on one, something I didn't really understand until I learned from her experience.
Thanks for sharing. My injury has been an education in the variations of mobility and how we adapt. I've grown to appreciate just how effective crutches can be in getting around all kinds of terrain. I hated them so much in February, but now I have a deeper appreciation for all of the mobility devices we humans have designed to maintain our independence.
Congratulations to Beat for retiring. I wish I had done it earlier and enjoyed more years with my husband without me being stressed out and grumpy. Absolutely never know what's in store for you down the road. I have loved the daily pop-ups of photos from the past as reminders of all the good times when my husband was still alive. And many times I look at the photos and think, "little did we know what was going to happen." May sound like a tired trope but it's true: live every second fully.
It is so true, though. Today, my Facebook memories reminded me that five years ago on this day, I was in Canyonlands with my Dad and Beat. I nearly didn't go because I was very COVID cautious in 2021, and Beat and I had just barely had our vaccines a few days earlier. I'm so, so glad we made it happen. I scrolled through the photos this morning and thought "We really had no idea" — same as the sentiments you shared.
I've managed to return to Canyonlands around the last weekend of April every year since 2021, to visit the spots where we spread my dad's ashes in 2022. I had plans to go this weekend, before my injury. I am feeling more bummed about having to give this up than I was about dropping out of the White Mountains 100. It's always the quieter things that end up mattering the most.
I know it sucks, big time. I have two knee replacements and have been able to hike instead of run for years now. My long hikes took the place of runs. And, now,, as I’ve aged (76), the long distances have dwindled. I’ve been finding things to enjoy while I still hike and still push it. Some days are slow with stops for drawing/painting, flower ID, etc. Other days, though, are still pushing distance. My speed has slowed a lot. It is not easy, I still have a hard time not being the fastest or strongest. But life is a constant adjustment/adaptation to whatever we have to deal with. I am trying to thoughtfully adapt and find interests that add to my trail time. I am sorry you are going thru such a tough time, I hope you heal quickly and well. You are strong, even on days you don’t feel it. Your good heart and desire to move will give you the strength to continue.
Thank you. I am trying (and I believe I am at least beginning to succeed) at cultivating a better appreciation and gratitude for the quieter sides of life. I've been chasing big hits of experience for so long that it's tough to come down. But as you pointed out, limitations come for us all if we are lucky to live long enough to meet them.
Best wishes for recovery. If you want to add to your playlist then 'The Only Way Out Is Through' by Penfriend (Laura) might fit.
Thank you! I will look it up.
I hope the best for you. I love running; in the 90s I did a 25K road race, and while my running history is on and off since then, as late as 2019 I was able to do easy 10-mile runs, which were great for my mental health. Since then, I've had medical problems (DVT mostly, due to a genetic problem) that result in my left foot going numb after about 20 minutes or running, and then spinal disc hernias that have added more problems. I can still hike and bike without many problems, though, so while I still hope I will once more be able to go for long slow runs, I also hope that if that proves not to be possible, I'll enjoy doing what I can. I take inspiration from my 83-year-old mother-in-law. She has been reliant on a wheelchair for nearly 3 years, but she tests her limits often and does as much as she can within them. (I say "reliant" on a wheelchair because she can walk short distances with a walker, and get in and out of cars: there is a huge difference between being confined to a wheelchair and being reliant on one, something I didn't really understand until I learned from her experience.
Thanks for sharing. My injury has been an education in the variations of mobility and how we adapt. I've grown to appreciate just how effective crutches can be in getting around all kinds of terrain. I hated them so much in February, but now I have a deeper appreciation for all of the mobility devices we humans have designed to maintain our independence.
Just sending admiration and kudos and gratitude for your taking the time and effort to write—and I gotta love scooching around with that laundry bag!
Thanks. It is pretty funny. I've spent more time dragging myself around on the floor than I ever thought possible.