An Extraordinary Woman

Since beginning this blog in January, I spend more time remembering and thinking about things past than I probably have since graduating from high school in 1966. I joined Facebook in an attempt to connect with old friends and classmates and have been blessed with the recovery of some “lost treasures.” Barb is one of them.

There are two memories of my friend Barb that always come to mind when I think of her. First, I picture her in her maroon and white cheerleader uniform, leading cheers at the pep rallies in the high school gym. The other memory is of a moment in World Geography class. Some of the girls were participating in a “character assassination” of another cheerleader who happened to be absent that day. Barb turned away and refused to take part, leaving me with a most powerful memory for more than forty years.

We caught up with each other on Facebook in May, and she has graciously given me permission to share some of her writing. I have deleted some names and comments for her privacy.

Barb wrote: May 2, 2009

“I teach yoga classes a couple of nights a week and fitness classes at the Senior Center which is just a blast and very rewarding. My toughest challenge is that for the past five years I've been treated for ovarian cancer. There's good and not so good that comes with knowing and being treated for a chronic disease. I continue to live a full life, remaining fairly active and totally enjoying being grandma to my three year old granddaughter.”

I wrote that I have the most terrific kid on the planet.

Barb wrote: May 2, 2009

“Married 34 years this fall and I beg to differ. I have the most terrific kid on this planet. Christopher has given me the greatest gift of love and support in that he has never considered my slowing down with this insidious disease. We've skied up ski hills, cycled, hiked, rock climbed and watched hours of House and NCIS on TV together. Sounds like you have a similar bond with your son, extraordinary love and support.

My husband and I loved our visit to Austin a few years ago. The hill country is amazing. We made it out to the Enchanted Rock. What fun! I agree that Michigan is the most beautiful place on earth.”

I wrote that I hadn’t heard from her in a while.

Barb wrote: July 26, 2009

“I'm on a fairly rugged chemo schedule this summer. It goes like this. Fourteen days of chemo followed by fourteen days break to "recover." Actually I'm holding up well under the assault and have had some positive results.

If all goes as planned, next Saturday I will be participating in a triathlon teaming with my son Chris. He will do the swim and run. I will do the twenty-mile bike ride. It's a bit of a crazy plan but I would have it no other way. Me and my boy! I'm sure you get it.”

I wrote that I’m amazed she would compete in a triathlon with the chemo.

Barb wrote: July 27, 2009

“I no longer remember what it feels like to live without a bone deep exhaustion. For the past few weeks my bones have been sending out shooting pains a result of having to rebuild the red/white cells and platelets. Often this occurs in the larger hip and thigh bones, so it's fairly startling. Five years later, I confess, I continue to do battle with paralyzing despair. I'm just not ready to leave this special life of mine. I feel so blessed. This disease has slowly opened my heart, my self, my compassion to such extraordinary heights. I've acquired a treasure trove of wonderful rich memories. Would I have known enough to cherish these moments without the disease, certainly not on the scale that I do now. Exercise is my friend, from a peaceful yoga session or walk to testing myself on the bike or ski's or at the gym. I'm alive and kicking and I plan to remain that way until ‘the fat lady sings.’

Your friends confronted with a similar battle, I hold in my heart. We're all in this together.”

Barb sent me her “Bucket List” on July 29, ending with this thought:

“Now I have my hopes pinned on the 20 mile ride August first. It’s challenging to say the least when I’m working my way through another 14 days straight of chemo. It would be far easier to quit. Yet so boring! When my Lance Armstrong Live Strong Jersey arrives I plan to wear it every day if I have to, to keep my spirits up.”

Note:

I’m waiting to hear back from Barb about the triathlon. When I do, I’ll let you know how it went.

Donna

We Wii

Santa brought my family a Wii Fit program for Christmas. I’m not a hundred per cent certain who wrote him and asked for a Wii, but I’m pretty sure it was my husband. Jim decided it was time to take charge, get organized, lose weight, and just do it!! And he wanted to get his little crew on board while he was at it. A fit family sweats together, right? So under our tree on Christmas morning was a brand new shiny Nintendo Wii, balance board, and Wii Fit program discs.

Invasion of the body snatcher.

The first to become a pod person was Robert, who incidentally holds the family record for looking great, succeeding at all the tests, and humiliating the rest of the crew. The first thing you do with your Wii after hooking it up to your television is create your Mii. A Mii is a little avatar, or digital character, that represents YOU when you exercise or play games on the computer. It’s really pretty cool. You get to choose your total appearance from head to toe. You can have any hair color, length, or style, and any facial features and accessories you desire. The three of us, Jim, Robert, and I, being down to earth types, created Mii’s that looked kind of like ourselves. Jim and I even selected gray hair for our little characters, and I added reading glasses to my Mii. Then you get on the balance board, take your first “body test” and the gig is up. Based on your weight, the machine chooses your shape! Right before your eyes you watch your cute little avatar change into an avocado. Okay, you say. I can fix this. I’ll play this game and look like Robert’s Mii again in no time.

Resistance is futile.

Anyway, the guys went first and sounded like they were having so much fun that I joined in, created my own little Mii, and started my new electronic, computerized fitness program. One of the first things you do is perform some basic balance tests and then the machine tells you how old your body is. The machine told me my body was seventy-two. I knew immediately this was not going to be a love affair between me and the “Borg.” After my first session, the machine commented, “It looks like the balance test isn’t your forte. Do you trip when you walk?” I was indignant. “No!” I shouted back at the television screen. It suggested that I try the games that it selected for me to improve my balance. I did get the hang of the balance tests and I do much better now. Once on a good day the machine told me my body age was thirty-two, but I think it just needed to be recharged and rebooted when that happened. I’m referring to the machine now.

You might think the Wii is a good alternative to a live fitness coach because it’s just a machine and it won’t give you a hard time if you slack off. Believe me when I say this machine nags. It knows when you skip a day and it harasses you. It asks, “Too busy to work out yesterday, eh? Would you like me to comment on your workout habits? I resent it when I step on the balance board and I hear the machine announce, “Ooooh!” One nice feature though is that you get to choose your fitness coach. With the basic Wii Fit program, you only get to choose between two—a skinny broad around twenty years old or a hunky guy around twenty-five with a pony tail. I chose the hunk, but every now and then the machine announces, “Hope you don’t mind, but we’ve swapped coaches for you today.” Don’t mind? If I wanted to look at the skinny broad I would have chosen her in the first place.

I Spy.

Besides nagging, our Wii asks us to rat on each other. Imagine my surprise when it asked me, “By the way, what do you think of Jim’s posture recently?” Then it gave me four choices: Looks good, looks bad, is improving, is the same? Not knowing what the Wii might do to Jim—or me, if I didn’t answer correctly—I just said he was improving. I figured that way the machine would be reassured that It was doing its job well and we’d all be off the hook.

The machine is also a troublemaker. The other day it told me, “Someone made a comment that you’re looking slimmer. I can’t tell you where I heard it though. To my knowledge only three people use our Wii, so why the mystery? It also asks, “I miss Robert. Is he sleeping?” It doesn’t really give us an opportunity to reply to that question, but if I could answer I’d tell the Wii that Robert has better things to do right now than humiliate his parents over their weight and lack of athletic skills.

Honest, the darned thing is fun.

In reality, we’re enjoying our Wii Fit programs. We get “on the machine” every day if possible. “I’m going upstairs to Wii,” we call to each other. Jim works hard, uses many of the advanced programs and games, and is losing weight slowly but steadily. I, on the other hand, seem to go back and forth over the line between overweight and normal from day to day. That’s not the fault of the program—it’s the fault of the user, or in this case the slacker/eater. The Wii Fit program is being used in hospital rehabilitation and physical therapy programs, and in senior centers all over the nation. You can have a fun, gentle workout or you can work up a lather if you want to. I highly recommend it and welcome your comments or questions on the subject.

Donna

I Walk the Lane

One of my earliest running memories is of my brothers chasing me with a garter snake. In my teens I ran in gym class. You remember gym class? Our kids and grandkids call it P.E. now. In gym class we girls had to run sprints, 100 yard relays, and the 600 yard dash. The real “dash” was usually to the track sidelines to throw up. Back then, very few young women thought of running as something you chose to do. It was necessary in order to pass gym class and get out of high school.

In my twenties I began running like countless thousands of Americans when the jogging craze kicked in. I ran on the track beside Yost Field House, now Yost Ice Arena, on the University of Michigan campus in Ann Arbor. In my thirties I ran on the par course and track at Saddleback College in Mission Viejo, California and at Ala Moana Beach Park on Oahu. I’m the first to tell you I never ran very fast or real far, but I swear on my fifth grade white canvas high top gym shoes, I did run.

I was slowed down considerably in my forties, but I still ran—after my toddler, Robert. It was more like darting than running, but that boy kept me on the move and that kept my weight down. The countless trips up and down the stairs of my two-story house, carrying Robert or running up and down after him were great exercise, but those days are over. These days I walk the lane: Snakey Lane, the scenic, winding, asphalt paved road behind my house.

Lions and tigers and bears, oh my!

Even though I’ve seen my share of snakes on the road, Snakey Lane is named for it’s winding curves as it snakes alongside Lake Grapevine, in Grapevine, Texas. Putting the rattlesnake and water moccasin sightings aside, it’s still one of the most beautiful and scenic little walks in the county. Only a few cars and pickup trucks travel on it each day. Along the route I’ve encountered hawks, wild ducks, geese, roadrunners, herons, ibis, foxes, a coyote, and an occasional lake turtle. There are even rumors about alligators in the lake, but no one seems to know for sure if it’s true. The lane is lined with mesquite trees dripping their six inch long dart-like spines at passersby. There’s poison sumac, ivy, and oak, and an occasional prickly pear cactus. The wildflowers in the spring and the brilliant colors in the autumn are inspirational. But the wildest creatures of all, the ones I dread a close encounter with some days, are the other humans.

While I admit I don’t move all that fast any longer, it seems to me that I still appear to be a serious exerciser. I wear good athletic walking shoes and socks, sweats in winter, age-appropriate, modest shorts and tees in summer, and always a baseball cap to keep the sun out of my eyes. And I’m not strolling; I’m hustling. Apparently, others don’t see me as the jock I imagine myself to be. “Don’t get in the runner’s way!” a man on a bicycle shouted to his daughter one time. She promptly turned her bicycle directly into my path and cut me off in order to let a man jog by us. I was so stunned that I could not speak for a moment.

It’s not my fault, it’s the asphalt.

The city cleared several bike and foot trails in the nearby woods and built us a concrete trail for bicycle riders, skaters, and pedestrians between Snakey Lane and the lake. “Why are you on the road when we’ve got this trail?” an old man shouted at me one day from the concrete. “The asphalt is easier on my knees,” I called back. He just shook his head disgustedly and mumbled something inaudible. I felt as if I’d been chastised. I had a child-like urge to chase him back down the path and tell him that I’ve been running, jogging, and walking for five decades, all over the planet, and I’ve earned the right to walk in the road without being scolded like a reckless or unappreciative teenager. Actually I do walk on the concrete trail along the lake quite often, but when my knees are bothering me, it’s back to Snakey Lane.

Not all the runners, walkers, and bike riders are lacking in courtesy. Occasionally there’s a bicycler who calls out, “on your left” or rings a little bell on their bike. I always call out a thank you to those rare people, hoping that by encouraging courtesy, it might catch on. One of the most frustrating, unexplainable behaviors that I encounter are those folks just starting their walks or runs, who see you hustling along the trail or road, and step out in front of you instead of waiting for you to go past them. It’s kind of like pulling out from a side street onto the highway into moving traffic and causing all the drivers to have to stop or swerve to avoid a collision. You know how it makes me feel—it’s that “invisible woman” sensation again.

We're catching on.

Things have changed over the nearly twenty years that my family has lived in our home on Snakey Lane. The city built a beautiful community activity center with a multi-lane indoor track, and I use it when the Texas weather or pollens are at their worst. The folks from the older neighborhoods have grown accustomed to seeing runners and bike riders race up and down the neighborhood streets and roads. The drivers don’t swerve at us or throw longneck beer bottles at us any more, and most drivers give us a little extra yardage on the side of the road when they pass us. I haven’t seen a poacher’s sack full of discarded deer parts on the lane in years. I love my adopted town of Grapevine, and I love Snakey Lane with its wildflowers, wild animals, and wild people. If you drive along Snakey Lane and see a slightly past middle-aged woman hobbling along with a contented smile on her face, that’s me walking the lane.

Donna