Plan, Prep, Pace

I hiked among the larch trees last fall. According to the reviews on AllTrails.com, it was considered moderate, yet kid-friendly. "If a six-year-old can do it, surely I can do it," I thought.

At that point in my health journey, I knew that physical activity exhausted me, though I didn't know why. It was a hike that I tried to take slowly and gently; yet, it still left me exhausted for a full week afterwards.

One year later, with a diagnosis in hand, I hold the gift of hindsight.

For those with ME/CFS, it's not only physical exertion that sucks mitochondria dry and frazzles the nervous system. Turns out that cognitive, social, and emotional exertion add to the load as well. When I thought of all the activities surrounding the actual hike, it's no wonder I crashed.*

With a strong disposition of persistence, I considered what would need to happen for a successful hike this year. Peyto Lake was a spot I had yet to see with my own three eyes (the two on my face, and the one on my camera), and I wanted the autumn colours against the aquamarine water.

And I did not want to crash.**

(c) Photos by Gina

• So, instead of a day-trip, it became an overnight trip.

• I worked from home the day before.

• I did not take any Airbnb bookings upstairs in the days leading up to my trip, so that I could be more blasé about cleaning and tidying.

• I did only necessary chores.

• My friend and I agreed I would not do any of the driving.

• And, though I didn't ask, she carried my backpack of snacks, water, and camera gear the whole way.

• We took a slow pace with lots of breaks.

• I monitored my heart rate the whole way; I kept my breathing measured and steady.

• And upon returning home, I didn't rush to put everything away. (My car is still half full of gear.)

All this, on top of the regular, daily things I do to keep my system stable.

...Now, the deceptive part about crashes is that they can be delayed by 12-72 hours after the activity or event. I had 3 crashes during the summer, and two of them I wasn't expecting. It's delightful. (#sarcasm). And so, as I went to bed on Sunday night, I wondered, "did it work?" 

...It worked.

As I type this at the 72-hour mark, a smile creeps up my face. My first pacing success.

Next to actually getting my diagnosis earlier this spring, this feels like the biggest of wins. 

* A "crash" is the term in the ME/CFS community to describe overdoing it. The clinical term is post-exertional-malaise (PEM), which means a worsening of ME/CFS symptoms after any sort of exertion. For me, a crash looks like a dysfunctional 24-48 hours on the couch, with brain fog that would make London jealous.

** Not just because a crash feels extra awful, but also because crashes can contribute to overall decline in the long run. 

SOTC 61/365

 
"Somewhere between the bottom of the climb and the summit is the answer to the mystery why we climb."

-- Greg Child

Fairness and Sameness

Traveling with a family with a child with special needs is a unique experience. My friends are veterans at modifying activities and schedules to accommodate each of their three children, including the eldest, eleven, who has a complex disability.

The language of special needs and inclusion is everyday in their household. The other two little ones (currently seven and four) have been able to pronounce their sister's five-syllable diagnosis since they were two.

Earlier this week, we visited Qualicum Falls as part of the day's activities. We discussed which adults would go with which children, because wheelchair accessibility only went so far down the trail.

I was one of the adults that went with my younger niece and nephew down the winding, stairs-and-hills trail to the falls. At one point, my nephew stated, "dis is not really uh-sess-ible* for P." We had a brief discussion about how it's really hard to make nature fully accessible because in nature, things just grow where they grow, and rocks and things just are where they are. At this point, the conversation ended for the 4-yr-old, but it still had me thinking a bit.

We try very hard where I work to encourage and implement universal design, so that communities, schools, playgrounds, and education are accessible for all individuals. Every stair case has a ramp or elevator near by; every book has a Braille or audio version available in the same library; every classroom is laid out and supplied to meet the unique learning styles of all its students.

Obviously, this is easier said than done sometimes. But on the whole, I generally think we're getting better.

And then there's nature.

The conversation with my nephew made me consider the idea that universal design and Universal Design might not necessarily be the same thing. The magnificent Creator--the Universal Designer--has blessed us with mountains, valleys, white sands, rocky beaches, a myriad of life on land and in the waters. Tall trees and low-lying shrubs. Calm winding creeks and rushing waterfalls. He has created it all for His glory. And yet, clearly, not everyone can access even such simple things as waterfalls and hiking trails

Would He really create a world that was not accessible to everyone who passed by?!

I stand at the edge of the trail, atop the gorge where, at the opposite end, a waterfall crashes. It's not a very big waterfall, but it is still mesmerizing to watch and oddly soothing to listen to. My niece in her wheelchair is maybe 500m away, down a 'lesser' trail, unable to take in any of it. And she's not the only one, I'm sure.

How is that fair?!

And then something my mother used to say to my brother and I echoed in my head:

"'Fair' does not always mean 'the same.'"

Sorry?

"'Fair' does not always mean 'the same.'"

My mother used to remind us of this when one of us would exhibit envy over the other's invitation to a birthday party, or one-on-one time with a parent, or something like that. We were two very different people, and so we engaged in different activities and were shown love and care in different ways sometimes.

And in effect, universal design operates similarly. It's fair, but not necessarily the same. A child with a visual impairment may need to listen to a book on CD, while the other has a hard copy with pictures. And yet, I would never say that the audio version is the 'lesser' book (in fact, if it is well narrated, it may have an advantage over a book that a child reads inside his/her head). Fair does not always mean the same.

So why did it bug me in regards to the waterfalls?

Because I don't see the same outcome.

The child who listens to an audio book and the child who reads her own copy both still end up experiencing the same story. By the end, they both know that the Hungry Caterpillar ate a lot of food one week and turned into a butterfly. They both know that Harry gets the Philosopher's Stone before Voldemort does. They both know that Romeo and Juliet kill themselves to be together.

But P doesn't know the waterfall that I know. So she didn't see the falls--OK. But she couldn't even really hear them from where she was. Totally not the same outcome.

But fair does not always mean the same.


Not the same means, but certainly it should mean the same end?


Fair does not always mean the same.


I don't understand.


She should be able to see the falls. She should be able to hold the starfish at the beach. These are relatively simple, yet meaningful, things.


Meaningful to her or to you?


Well, there's that. But certainly there is someone, somewhere, in a wheelchair, who can't see the falls and wanted to.


...Fair does not always mean the same.

I still don't understand. I don't understand why You would paint a glorious sunset that not everyone passing by the beach that evening would be able to see. I don't understand why you would reveal the knotted roots of a massive fallen tree that not everyone walking by could leave the trail to touch.

But I do have peace knowing that, while experiences of God's creation may not be the same, they are fair.

That is good enough for now.

*accessible

Lovely Weather for a Snowshoe AND 229/365

We were spoiled this winter. Temperatures sat around -5C most days, and very little snow. While farmers are already complaining, my snow shovel certainly was not. Still, without any snow, Edmonton lacked any sort of winter aesthetic quality that it could have had. Also, there was no snowshoeing.

Snowshoeing is generally a weekly excursion in the winter--a chance to catch up with friends and be physically active at the same time. Not so much this year. I snowshoed in Edmonton four times. I gained eight pounds.

So, when it was suggested that we go snowshoeing in the mountains, there was actually a fair bit of excitement about the idea. Factor in a great deal on Expedia, and you've got the makings of a good girls' weekend. It seemed like it had been forever since I'd had a girls' weekend. Really, it was only last summer, but we only ventured about an hour and a half from home on that trip, so I guess it didn't really feel like we "got away." A five hour drive to the mountains (complete with awesome 90's music and a Gasoline Alley pit stop)--now that feels more like a getaway!

We opted to trek along the Chester Lake trail near Canmore. I was actually worried there wouldn't be enough snow--how easily I doubt! We were quite thankful that we didn't have to break trail. There was plenty of the fluffy stuff--everywhere.

Conversation on the trail happened in small doses, in between the uphill climbs requiring a larger lung capacity. I always have the convenient excuse of stopping to take a photograph whenever I want a break. As such, I generally 'bring up the rear', and this hike was no different.

Up the hill, through the meadow, and down the trail a bit more to reach Chester Lake. ....We didn't actually see the lake, but we're presuming that it's there, under all the snow! We stopped and ate there, regardless. The lunch break was shorter than it would be in the summer. Snow pants are no substitute for the warmth of the sun on bare legs. We all started cooling off fairly quickly, and pretty much started heading back down the mountain after the last bite of sandwich had been swallowed.

Often throughout the year, but especially when I travel to the mountains, I remember how blessed I am to live in this province. Alberta is so rich in scenery, and the mountains sure hold the upper hand in that respect. I have to admit, the only thing more perfect would have been to see it against the backdrop of a blue sky, but the contrast of green conifers covered in lumps of snow against the white sky was eye-catching, too. Especially the vastness of it all. And the way the mountains seemed to almost hide in the snowy background--not prominent, and yet definitely present. There was a soft, muted quality to the wintry surroundings, and yet, a fresh fragrance akin to the one I breathe deeply each summer. 

By the time we reached the bottom, my thighs hurt with every step, and the snow was falling thicker and faster. It was definitely time to head back to the hotel's hot tub. We threw the car into reverse, and it satisfyingly cut through the snow drifts of the parking lot like butter. Considering we had just covered an advertised 4-hour snowshoe hike in roughly 3-hours, I was feeling a similar satisfaction myself.

"Unusual travel suggestions are dancing lessons from God."

-- Kurt Vonnegut

Quiet and Contemplative AND 188/365

Our Theologizers group wanted a retreat weekend, where we could gather in friendship and fellowship outside of our bi-monthly Wednesday nights. To lay aside the intellectual book we were discussing, and just BE with each other in a more casual atmosphere. As a result, this entire weekend was spent at King's Fold Retreat Centre near Cochrane, Alberta. And we actually were on retreat.

Our agenda delineated the meal times of the centre, a sunrise chapel service Sunday morning, and that was all that was set in stone (or, more accurately, set in pixel--the agenda was e-mailed as a .PNG). S's remark after the staff had introduced us to the building was, "go do what you want."

And it was SO lovely. I'd say we couldn't have picked a better weekend, but really, we couldn't have been blessed with a better weekend. It got up to 12C (53F) on Saturday, and not a cloud in the sky! I spent the majority of my day outdoors. Right after breakfast, I took some pictures of the view, and then just sat and enjoyed it. The air was fresh, the sun was warm, the view was simultaneously majestic and peaceful.

Partway through the morning, I did venture over to the centre's solarium. It used to be a greenhouse outright, but was converted into a warm sunroom for people to take in the view from an indoor space. The solarium encourages quiet reflection, and artistic creation; there is an art centre set up at the back. I decided to try my hand at a different art medium than my familiar photography; watercolour. My mom has experimented with watercolour in the last several years; I figured perhaps I might have some natural skill in this more than the pencil crayons and pastels that were also available. I kept the art piece simple--the mantra, "stick with what you know" reigning over the piece. I know I love my reds. I know these mountains and its wilderness. And I know sunsets. All in all, I was impressed at my own skill for my first watercolour. I did try a smaller, second piece, but I don't like it as much. Still, I think that if I ever wanted to get into it, I'd probably do all right with watercolour.

After lunch, a group of us were enthusiastic about hiking down to the valley and walking along the shallow river. I had shed my winter clothing by this point, and found myself reflecting that this winter hike in February was warmer than a similar hike I'd taken with friends when backpacking one summer in August. Only in Alberta.

Upon return from the hike, there was still a significant chunk of time before supper. I walked the centre's labyrinth. I sat on the bench swing and read more of my new book. I took more pictures. I pet the cat.


Supper fed us well (every meal fed us well), and by that time, the sun had disappeared behind the mountain. I sat around the campfire until I started to feel cold for the first time that day, and then retreated back indoors to continue reading quietly until I was tired enough for sleep.

Retreat, indeed. :)

Summits AND 35/365

I continue to learn from my mistakes. The photo I really-really-really wanted for today's photo-of-the-day was a group shot of my friends and I at the first summit of the Balding Hills trail at Maligne Lake. Unfortunately, in changing lenses, I failed to remember that the last time I had used the lens, I had used manual focus instead of auto focus. Suffice it to say, every single take of the group shot is unrepairably out of focus. SIGH.

But let us pause and talk of summits. Balding Hills had three. The guidebook, which described the hike--as a whole--as "trifling", said that the first summit appeared after 35-50 minutes. After 65 minutes, we agreed that it was "the longest 35 minutes ever." And while I have hiked much harder and longer trails, I'm not sure I would refer to this hike as "trifling". I would refer to it as a decent day hike. The trail to the first summit was a shallow-ish grade, but completely up. No downhill breaks, and few flat spots (granted, those few were much appreciated and taken advantage of). Every now and then, a break in the trees afforded a good view. It was not awful, by any means. Nevertheless, we arrived at the first summit happy to take a break in the sun, drink water, eat, and take in the view.

Sometimes, even with glimpses of beauty and loveliness along the way, we just need a break from the uphill trek.

As we downed our trail mix, we discussed with the idea of turning around at that point, or continuing onto the second summit "to see what we could see." The guidebook promised even better views from the higher vantage point at the next stop. We chose to go for it.

This leg of the hike was much shorter, but also much steeper. The side of the hill was mostly shale, rendering our steps slow, short, and very purposefully placed. Mostly because I stopped to take pictures, my friends all reached the top before me.

Sometimes, it's okay to just stop briefly to take in the whole of what is before you.

The view at the top WAS better. The first summit still had us surrounded by a lot of trees. Not so much on the second summit. As a result, we were greeted at the top by full sun and a much more panoramic view. It was great.

Admittedly, we didn't stay long. Dropping temperatures, wind, and other pressing activities rendered us back down the trail. We were able to take a different trail for part of the way down, offering still more diversity, even as we were descending back to where we had started.

We cannot stay the top indefinitely.

But it was a good view while we were there. None of us regretted not having time to check out the third and final summit. Knowing the potential of the path not chosen did not diminish the goodness of the path we were on.

It was enough just to be where we were.