Gonzo Girl

Getting sick is a little like a snow day. 

I have vivid memories of waking up as a kid, the radio going and my mom walking into my room saying, “School is cancelled. Snow day.” Then she’d slog back to the kitchen, prepping for the obligatory hot cocoa and endless, wet and muddy laundry. 

I think she was a little sad, but not me!  I’d jump up and look out the window. Sure enough, we had a full ¼ inch of snow and here in Washington state, that meant everything was on hold. So quiet and still, a whole day unfolding without much of a plan. Kind of like God looked down and said, “Man, I think they need a little break.”  

Of course, as an adult, the initial set-back of a snow day can feel like a huge inconvenience, if not an obstacle, to all the important goals of the day. 

So on Saturday, when Rick and I started to feel “a little something”, neither of us wanted to acknowledge the onset of illness. We just started mega-dosing Airborne and Vitamin C, kept a positive attitude (‘cause it was all in our heads) and by Sunday, we were both down for the count.

Huge inconvenience and an even huger obstacle. With our EUROPEAN CYCLING ADVENTURE looming in the near future, we had a VERY long list of IMPORTANT goals to reach along with a VERY long list of things to be ACCOMPLISHED.

But this illness was pretty intense. Sleeping most of the day, chills that physically racked the body. Fever, sore throat, runny nose, coughing. Can a cold and the flu have a kid? A Clu? 

I think we definitely had the Clu.

Add in the anxiety of losing precious days to get organized for the trip. Getting the house buttoned up for a month away, shopping for last minute items, pulling together documents, and finishing a project needed for our summer family reunion. I think the specific ICD medical diagnosis would be called something like, “Clu with Anxiety NOS (not otherwise specified)”.

But most concerning was our loss of training time. 

As I have aged, I find that the on-ramp toward a physical fitness goal has gotten longer and more gradual. I actually don’t mind that, now that I understand it. I’ve got plenty of time (or so I thought) in retirement to accomplish this, right?  And, therein lies the rub. We are very busy.  And, with the most important things in life. The people. This includes, but is not limited to, taking care of our 2 year old grand-daughter (Patient  Zero), being near to but, heaven-forbid, NOT taking care of our 14 year old grand-daughter, hanging out with family, neighbors and friends. So, our training has been carefully planned out to fit into our schedule.

Until it snowed. 

Of course not literally, stay with the analogy.

On the second day of illness, I was definitely improving but in no way fine. I had to confront the fact that there would be no training for at least a week.  

Did I say we leave in 12 days?

Freaked out, I decided to focus on what I could do.  

• All of those documents? Check. 

• Order needed items? Check.

• Read a book or two?  Check. 

• Finish that Family Reunion Project? Check.

• Write? Check.

• Blog? Check.

I immediately felt better. My need for control assuaged.  

Control. That long-time frenemy that pulls you in with a light compliment, saves a seat for you on the bus and then, the next day, doesn’t even talk to you. And dang, she pulls me in again and again. So, cool and beautiful. Funny and smart. Right before she whips out her pen and scrawls cruel words about me on the bathroom wall.  

She’s like an addiction.

So I guess you can say, I’m in recovery. Early stages. Still hopping on and off the wagon, just becoming aware that this is a problem at all. 

Control, that siren, keeps beckoning me into the future. So alluring. It makes trying to stay in the moment incredibly difficult. I find that writing helps. It forces me to look at myself with a level of curiosity that is otherwise, nearly impossible. The thing that continues to arise is that while I like to think of myself as somehow special, I am not. My imperfections and weirdnesses are not the problem. The problem is I don’t want to own them. But like everything in life, irony is the solution. It seems that in accepting, rather than hiding, my foibles, I am able to give them just a little grace. A little room to flop around and make themselves known, while I welcome them into the group chat, smile, listen for a minute, and then calmly press the mute button. 

Recently, I found a new friend named Foresight. She recommends we make a loose plan and hope for the best. With that, we will take a few short, easy rides this week. Just to keep our legs moving. Then we will see what next week brings. I’m hoping we can do a couple longer and more difficult rides. If we don’t get to do that, I am not going to worry about it. I am, however, interested to see how it will go. I’ll know more about that next week.

In the end, I’m inclined to think that EL Doctorow’s famous quote about writing, was really about life in general.  

Even still, I’d like to avoid another snow day, if at all possible.

“Writing is like driving at night in the fog. You can only see as far as your headlights, but you can make the whole trip that way.” EL Doctorow