Training: Rest and Rehydrate

 A shopping tour of Dock Square in Kennebunkport.  These benches are a great place to enjoy an ice cream cone in summer.

Catching my breath at the halfway point on my training ride Sunday.  10.5 miles.  34 degrees.  It didn't kill me, but I will need a different bike saddle.

Plans for Moving Forward, Part Two: MBTI and 20/20

According to the MBTI (Meyers-Briggs Type Indicator), I am an ENFJ.  An extrovert, energized by being around and interacting with other people.  It is important to remember that one is not completely one or the other, introvert or extrovert on the MBTI, just one more than the other.  I consider myself a pragmatic extrovert.  What is that you may ask?  Well, I am energized by interacting with people I feel comfortable around, and I have cultivated the ability to "fake it til I make it" when I'm around people who threaten or intimidate me.  Some people and many social situations really drain me, drain my energy.
I can be very shy, and I am selective about how much I reveal about myself.  I definitely cultivate a public persona.
When I started this blog, I wanted a place to express myself, and to share and exchange with like-minded people.  I worried about whether I was getting myself into something that I would regret.  Would viewers challenge me on what I express?  Would anyone target me with malice?  Would I be opening myself up too much just to gain common understanding of a few?
I can also be very shy about having my picture taken.  And by "shy" here, I mean vain.  I can honestly say that I believe myself to be prettier than I am.  You know those comparison pictures used to illustrate the discrepancy between reality and perception for a person who suffers body dysmorphia?  I have that in the opposite way.  My self-image is way more flattering than the lies that cameras and mirrors reveal to me.  It may be shallow, but I want to be beautiful.  So I use cameras and mirrors sparingly.  That is why there are at this time only 2 images I have posted of myself on the internet. (I can't help any that others have posted on FB on TBT from our high school yearbook.)
I took a face selfie for my FB page.  It was so hard to do.  I did my hair and makeup, chose my lighting, took lots of different selfies.  I wonder if I would have photoshopped my dark circles and wrinkles if I knew how.  I chose one, cropped it, and posted it on my profile.  I cringe when I see it.  That was about 2 years ago.  The second photo is the one heading up my last post.  My husband took it.  I made him take a few shots at different angles.  I am wearing no makeup, but I'm quite obscured by bike helmet, sunglasses and even earmuffs.  But even still, I cringe.  There is no camouflaging my overweight body and chubby cheeks.
Why am I putting myself through this?  Because I think it is part of a journey to improving my physical and mental health. It is said that to be effective in setting and reaching goals, it is important  to define where you are and where you want to go.  So, that photo is a starting line of sorts, and the starting line of the PMC will be a finishing line of sorts.  I am going to try to document my journey here.
On Monday, I started Dr Phil's 20/20 diet and took a bike ride, did some resistance work at YMCA.  Tuesday, I took a Deep Water Fitness class at the Y.  The weather took a turn to colder and windier,  so no bike ride; yesterday I exerted myself shampooing carpets.  I have already lost a couple of pounds, am generally more active around the house.  My muscles are complaining a little (okay, a lot), so I'm drinking lots more water, and doing stretches and even taking a little acetaminophen as needed.
I will try to blog other things too, so as not to bore you too much with this journey  Balance is good!
Hey, for fun, if you have stopped in today and ever taken the MBTI, will you comment with what personality type you are?

Plans for Moving Forward: Part 1 "I Must Be Mad"

Moving forward is such a good idea.  I like both parts: “moving” and “forward”.  Here, just now,  I am focusing on the cognitive and physical acts of “moving” and “forward”. 

I agree with what Miranda Esmonde-White says about aging and taking care of your body.   I catch her on PBS once in a while.  She stresses the importance of movement and gently challenging your flexibility, balance and strength.  I find that when I move my body, my mental health improves, too.

My mental health has been impacted by grieving, in addition to the annual winter blues (SAD), and an awareness of the toll age has taken on my mental agility.  I am increasingly aware of certain maladaptive patterns I have in response to things that hurt or frustrate me.  I mean sulking and a tendency toward self-pity.  And then there’s denial.  I now find that, when faced with life’s worst insults (the loss of loved ones), these flimsy coping strategies don’t serve me well.  I must be thoughtful, intentional, or better put, strategic, about “moving forward” with my mental health in order to salvage my functionality!

My physical health has taken a hit, mainly in the area of overall fitness.  Whatever healthy habits I developed were disrupted by last-minute trains to Boston when David was in one crisis or another.  Eating in hospital cafeterias, sleeping in family waiting areas, long periods of just sitting, pacing, worrying.  Hours spent ruminating on “what if” scenarios, making Plans A, B, and C, and then starting all over again as circumstances changed.  Oh my….suddenly a simple act like going for a walk borders on impossible, and unfortunately, unimportant. 

One thing I have found in my grieving process is that I am very angry, principally with cancer.  Cancer has taken my father, my brother, my stepfather.  My great-grandmother lost both her baby and her life to ovarian cancer when she was in her 30’s, leaving behind a husband with 5 children, 3 of whom survived colon cancer. 

It has finally dawned on me that grieving and healing will involve dealing with my anger.  So I'm channeling my anger to do what I can to defeat cancer.  My brother David was blessed immensely by his care at Dana Farber Cancer Institute in Boston.  They have a huge fundraiser to support cancer research, the largest of its kind.  Every year, they hold a bicycle ride across Massachusetts: the PanMass Challenge.  Riders can participate in distances that suit them, from “virtual” riding (which is fundraising without actually riding a bicycle, all the way to pedaling the whole distance from Sturbridge to Provincetown in 2 days (192 miles).  I’m pretty angry, so, throwing caution to the wind, I have registered for the full distance.  (Crazy?  Yup.  Mad in both senses: angry and crazy.)

The PanMass Challenge is first and foremost a fundraiser.  The money needed to keep cancer research funded is staggering.  David participated in a clinical trial for the medicine nivolumab, and later, for pembrolizimab.  The associated cost was overwhelming, but he didn’t have to pay because he was essentially donating his body as part of the experiment.  I can’t even imagine what the additional costs were in hospital stays, neurosurgeries (to remove spinal tumors), testing, testing, more testing, rehab facility, etc, etc, etc.

When a rider registers for the PMC, she commits to raising thousands of dollars to cancer research.  I have a long way to go, both in physical preparation and in campaigning for funds.

If you are still reading this, I am appealing to you to consider making a donation for this worthy cause.  Surely, your life has been impacted by this horrid disease.  Maybe you can donate in memory of someone you love and have lost, or in honor of someone who has waged war and won, or someone in the struggle.

I am riding in memory of David, Dad, and Jim, and 2 people I’ve never met:

1)  Tim Moore, who is the brother my friend Mary lost to melanoma 5 years ago; and 

2) (in honor of, not in memory of ) President Jimmy Carter, who received pembrolizimab at the same time as David did, and for the same reason (4 melanoma brain tumors). 

But my anger and determination, my ride is big enough to carry your will to beat this enemy too.  By the time I reach Provincetown, my driving force will be Hope.  And in such an epic battle, Hope is everything.

To donate online, follow this link: Donate here to my rider page.  You can donate anonymously or publicly; your amount can be confidential if you wish.  Either way, your donation becomes a tangible tribute.  If you make a donation or not, make a comment in memory of, or in honor of someone you love who has or has had cancer.  Many thanks.

For the Longest Time....

My brother David and his daughter Emma , summer 2013

For the longest time, I didn’t know if I would ever want to come back to writing this blog.  I had felt some inspiration the last time I posted, but then….

Life has happened and happened and happened…..

I can’t write a lot about it, because it is too painful, but my beloved brother David died from melanoma last June at 55 years old.  Horrible, devastating disease. 

David was a Golden Boy in our family.  Do you know what I mean?  Some families have them, and I was lucky.  I had him my whole life until June.  I had him my whole life longer than anyone else.  I have tried to tell myself that my loss wasn’t that…..important because it is worse for my mother.  Or it is worse for his wife and worse for his daughter.  And then I realize how ridiculous that line of thinking is, and scold myself for being petty.  And then I admit that I am trying to minimize my loss because to feel it all at once is too big and too painful.

I have spent so many weeks and so many weekends at my mother’s house, both before and after David died.  Mum & her husband and David & his family lived in the same tiny little town near the Maine-Canadian border.  David was very attentive to my mother, stopping in to make sure all was well.  Taking care of anything Jim couldn’t do.  Bringing sunshine and love and laughter.  There was plenty to do to help Mum & Jim and my sister-in-law get ready for the coming winter.

Then life continued……

Jim had for several years a condition called BMD (Bone Marrow Dysplasia), which often eventually degrades into a form of chronic leukemia.  He converted from BMD to leukemia a little over 2 years ago, had a round of chemotherapy, achieved remission, and had done reasonably well since then.  He was gradually getting older and more frail, but so gradually as to almost be imperceptible.  Then in late September, he became acutely ill, met criteria for additional chemotherapy, put it off and then died.  It was very sudden.  He was admitted to the hospital just not feeling well on a Saturday.  He got rehydrated and transfused and was resting comfortably by that evening, but in the wee hours of Sunday, he deteriorated rapidly and died.  It was four months to the day since David died.  We couldn’t believe it.  And in the months since then, it has been a journey of grieving, coping, and trying to orient toward healing and finding purpose.

That’s enough for today.  I have plans as to how I am moving forward. More next time.

Summer's End

Sunset over the Saco River

 "What good is the warmth of summer,                                  

                      without the cold of winter to give it sweetness."

                                                                                                     ------John Steinbeck

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So I consulted the calendar, and it told me that the last of day of summer this year is September 23.

This year, more than ever, I feel very rushed by the cadence of time passing me by.  

I don't tolerate heat well, and for years, by the time August rolls around, I am checking weather forecasts hoping to see cooler temperatures in the offing.

Not sure why, but not so this year.  I am more at peace with Summer.  I have embraced sweating perspiring, and learned to love a cool and refreshing afternoon bath.  And then there's the sprinkler to keep growing things going; make sure to wear flip flops, cool water on the feet always helps.

Oh my gosh, I just love these two sooooo much! (Evan and Christina)

 It probably has more to do with my Empty Nest.  The youngest has gone off to college, as have the older two, who were home for the summer.

Caution:  Wake

So, I'm going to eeeaase myself along through this transition.  First, I'll recap the summer, and get some of its stories off my chest.  And then, I'll strike out for the adventures the future holds.  

Coming with me?

Slideshow, Part 6 CMBG

 Won't you come sit here with me?  I've just poured coffee.  Do you take milk or sugar?

 I've given up looking for inspiration for this post.  I'm not quite sure what to write about.  

And so, I've decided to let the pictures do the work.

A Weeping Norway  Spruce...that's right, weeping, like a willow.  A genetic mutation apparently.

Looking back up the hill, as we stroll down to the lake.  You can see the rose arbor.

I can't remember what these are, I've seen them before.  I adore the lacy foliage.

The trail curves back and forth in tight hairpin loops down the steep hillside.

This picture came out poorly, too much in shade.  I had to take it though, because it reminded me of this.
Half Dome, in miniature.

Ansel Adams

 Rest here, in the shade, with this not-so-shy fern.

Looking down a dry stream bed, left behind from the spring snowmelt runoff.

That's all I've got for today.

Mary, Mary, Quite Contrary...or CMBG, Part 5

I should have been named "Mary", but as far as I know, that was never on the list of possibilities.

I remember, when young, loving so many different kinds of flowers, and being even a little indignant of the exalted position of the rose.  

I had the same reaction to diamonds, and gold jewelry, satin and lace and eventually champagne.....  Perhaps I was a champion of the underdog?  It just bothered me to have the beauty of non-roses be overlooked, even slighted.  I made it up to violets and daisies by cherishing them all the more, while secretly wishing they had fragrance like the lush lilacs outside my parents' bedroom window. 

While Lady's Mantle can stand on its own, it makes a gorgeous backdrop for ....

...Pink Roses!

 Eventually, my mother began to improve the row of arbor vitae and yew shrubs across the front of our ranch house by ordering roses from Jackson & Perkins.  First, the catalogs would come to the house in late January, along with Burpee's, Gurney's and Park Brothers.  J&P knew how to win me.  Their catalog came in a sealed envelope, which when opened released the glorious fragrance of their latest rose.  Over the years, Mum planted some lovely roses*:

Peace

Sterling Silver

Fragrant Cloud (!)

Irish Gold

Abraham Lincoln

Angel Face

are the names I remember easily, but there were more.  All so lovely, how could I not love them?

I was so happy to discover that Coastal Maine Botanical Gardens had a Rose Arbor.

And no doubt in years to come, there will be climbing roses making use of the wooden structure.

For now, clematis is doing its best.

And now, having allowed myself to fall head-over-heals in love with roses, I admit to having found the rose garden a bit sparse and actually diluted by companion plantings, however lovely in their own right. I hope to see, in time, an ever-growing variety of types and colors, and intoxicating perfumes!

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"We can complain because rose bushes have thorns, or 

rejoice because thorn bushes have roses."

-----Abraham Lincoln

* The images of the roses were borrowed from various sources, as identified in Google searches.

Images of CMBG, speaking metaphors (Pt 4 of the CMBG series)

 Today marks an event which shall live forever in our memories.  September 11, 2001 scars our collective history indelibly and infamously.   

In all the years I have had this blog, I have never written on or about this day.

I have never felt equal to the task.

 This year, I have spent a sobering hour or so looking up statistics, in an effort to grasp the enormity of the human losses suffered as a result of the heinous acts of 19 perpetrators.  I can only conclude that the actions of those 19 humans are the legacy of Hate.  Hate is the motivator and the fuel, and disproportionate lethal violence is its expression.  What utter waste. How absolutely futile.

The existence of hate in our world strikes fear in my heart; it is amorphous, pervasive, and universally accessible to all, emboldening the darkest designs of evil that the human mind can conjure.  

Perhaps because I am the mother of 3 sons, the youngest of whom has this year joined his brothers in registering for the draft, I am ever aware of the solemn and noble work of fine American military personnel to resist the forces of hate and evil propelled in our direction.  My sons are college students, and not serving in the military, which, I admit selfishly, gives me some peace in my heart.  But I respect and am grateful for those who do serve.  I pray for their safety and well-being.

We live in a beautiful but flawed world.  We are a beautiful creation, made in God's own image, but we are fallen from grace, and fall prey to the sin of hatred and violence, both as aggressor and victim.  Our salvation is brought upon us by God's mercy and compassion. 

His Love is greater than all the Hate in the world.  Today is a day to remember this and gather it into our hearts.

I hope you find comfort in God's eternal love today as you remember and inevitably re-live the horrors of that terrible day 14 years ago.  I know I do.

Things growing can be so satisfying, or BCMG Pt. 3

 Summer 1991.  I was pregnant with our first son, and for the first time in years I felt the urge to put some seeds in the ground.  Jeff and I lived in a tiny apartment in a tidy little complex in Akron, Ohio with our cat Andy.  The 2-story buildings were brick, and the interior walls plaster.  I think they were built just after WWII.  There were 2 tiny bedrooms and an eat-in kitchen, with hardly room for a tiny table and 4 small chairs.  But there were windows on 3 sides, and the buildings were fairly well-maintained, and they reminded me a little of the House I lived in on my college campus back in Western Massachusetts.

Mock Orange

 So, on weekends, I toiled away in the backyard up next to the building, making a  flower bed, probably about 2-1/2 feet deep, and about 12 feet in length.  I could hardly spare the time, and really didn't have the money to plant anything really lavish.  I guess it was really more of a cutting garden.

 I had no tools, so I bought only hand tools -- a trowel and a little, whaddyacallit, a hand rake of sorts. I got down on my hands and knees (pretty soon I learned to use a piece of corrugated cardboard to kneel on), and dug up the grass, and loosened up the dirt. I think I may have enriched the soil with a little bit of fertilizer?  I didn't have a hose, but there was a spigot on the building, so I got a watering can and moistened the soil.

 I bought only seeds, because it was cheaper.  I planted zinnias and snapdragons, and I must say they were a great choice.  Because both types of flower gave me a variety of colors.  The zinnias were the most showy, and the snapdragons delicate and endearing.

I 

 Mum and I thought my need to make things grow had to do with my gestating a brand new little human - the stirrings of a maternal self.

These days I'm feeling more ambivalent about growth and progression. 

 We are empty-nesters, and I feel like the victim of some kind of a dirty trick.  We drove out to Cleveland a couple of weeks ago to install the third and final son in college.  We couldn't be prouder of our boys, but I miss them so......

But of even more import, since my last update on my brother David, he has had more problems with his darn melanoma.  He has had surgery to remove tumors from his spine, received radiation and more immunotherapy, and a tumor in his brain is being irradiated today.  I am cheering for his non-cancerous cells, especially his immune system to grow and progress and destroy the cancerous cells.

I am hopeful, but still a little worried.  I find myself on my knees more, in prayer.  Maybe I should visualize myself on some cardboard, planting little seeds of immune cells to flourish fighting the melanoma.

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I'm sure no explanation is needed, but just to be complete, the above photos were all taken at Coastal Maine Botanical Gardens.  And there are still more to come.

Coastal Maine Botanical Gardens, Part 2

What is this flowering tree?

As we strolled the gardens, sometimes I thought to check the labels of the plants and flowers, but not always.  I have no idea what this tree is, but I thought the blossoms were so creamy and frothy.

 This reflexology labyrinth was a pretty cool feature in the Lerner Garden of the 5 Senses.  We removed our shoes and socks and meditated our way around and around.  

 Even if you wish to leave your shoes on, you can trace the route with your finger.

I wish I had taken a picture of the whole thing, so you could see that the smooth stones gradually decreased in size as you travel further inward, and the massaging effect on the soles of your feet changes.

 As you travel around the first outer circle, you can reach the soft and furry lambs' ears plants, and who can resist them?

 So healthy and gone to flower.  And look at that brilliant contrast with the plant behind.

 Next, while your feet are bare you walk between two pools, the one on the right has a weir about 3 feet high, and there is a cascade of cool water flowing over it, and across the walkway into the lower pool.  For real refreshment, I stepped right up to the little waterfall, and let the cool water splash on my feet and ankles.

I have no idea what this is besides pretty.

 Love the color contrasts....

A close-up of my favorite color contrast.

More next time.