For the first time in 82 days

Hunker down, kids, because we have a lot to cover today.

Full disclosure: being cooped up in this house 24/7 is killing me; I NEED a change of scenery. I thought about going hiking, but honestly, so many people are out and about on the trails, and ignoring social distancing recommendations... it just doesn't seem like a very smart move. Then I thought, kayaking! That's something I can do that will get me out in nature, but allow me to keep away from other people. Remember how I didn't think it was feasible, given my car situation and my lack of experience? Well, I found a woman in Castalian Springs who gives kayaking lessons (and she has great reviews), in which she also lets students try a variety of kayaks (to help them identify what to look for before shopping). And so, I have a kayaking lesson scheduled for Thursday morning. If I like it as much as I expect, I'm gonna be on the hunt for a kayak and a trailer pronto (so, you sporty types who've offered your assistance the past few months? You're up!).

But wait, there's more

I was idly scrolling through Facebook this morning, as one does. I've noticed, lately, that the sponsored posts I used to get about upcoming 5Ks (remember that I did a 5K approximately 300 years ago?) have been replaced by sponsored posts for virtual races, where you log your times and distances (they synchronize with any number of apps to do that automatically, but you can manually enter your stats as well), and where you do the race any day or days you want. I typically roll my eyes and scroll past them, but then I saw THIS:

For a minute, I couldn't breathe (bet you thought you'd seen the last of that old chestnut, didn't ya?) Then, I burst into tears; deep, gut-wrenching tears.

For those of you who haven't been playing along, Doug and I spent a week in Kauai (where we were married), and then a week in Maui. One of the highlights of those two weeks was the Road to Hana. I haven't written much about that experience, here or on Facebook (we'll save that for another post), but I have to explain a bit so this will make sense.

The Road to Hana is actually 64.4 miles, but the early part of the drive is in fairly industrial/non-scenic areas, so the race is the last 59.5 miles. What distinguishes the Road to Hana is that it's a trip that takes HOURS to make. That's partly because you'll stop - a LOT - at food trucks, chocolate farms, and shave ice spots. But it's mostly because the Road to Hana is a bitch: in those 59.5 miles, there are a whopping 612 switchbacks and 56 one-lane bridges (many of which are on blind curves). Yes, kids, I drove that road out and back, so that's 1224 total switchbacks and 112 trips over one-lane bridges in a single 10-hour day. To say that it could be a harrowing drive would be an understatement. But BUT BUT: If you take it slowly, use the pull-outs to get out of the way of the locals, and just BE IN the experience, it's like an exercise in Zen. Truly, it was spectacular. It was positively TRANSFORMATIONAL. 

And when I saw this ad, well... I traveled back in time to that trip: the huli-huli chicken island tacos (our first exposure to the magnificence that is huli-huli-chicken), the waterfalls, the rainbow eucalyptus trees, the chickens, the feral cats, the "is this a serial killer trap, or it it really going to be a huli-huli chicken stand?" in the far outskirts of Hana, the chocolate farm... (Off topic, but Hana Gold sounds more like a strain of weed than a chocolate, IJS. But their chocolate was divine. It was so good, in fact, that we ordered a whole lot of it after we returned home, and gave them away in various Christmas packages. And you KNOW I handed that shit out like candy - yes, I know, it IS - to every doctor, nurse, and technician who walked into Doug's room when he was hospitalized.)

Those tears were for that trip that we loved so much. They were for all the trips we took. They were for all the trips we'll never take. They were sadness, and loss, and fury at a future turned to dust. And I could almost hear Doug whispering in my ear, "You know you have to do this, right? This means we can take that trip together again! I can't be there physically, you're carrying me in your heart, so we CAN do it again." And then I cried harder, because carrying him in my heart isn't good enough. And then I signed up to do it.

What really sold me on it was the race map that lets you visualize your progress against a Google View picture of your location. And I wanted to test that out, so yesterday afternoon I set up a 1.6 mile route on MayMyRun, and used Tabata to set up the first week of what I'm calling a Sloth-to-5K (5 minute warmup, then 14 cycles of jogging 30 seconds/walking 1 minute), and I hit the road. Mind you, I've been the ultimate slug for nearly three months now, so it's not surprising that the result was less than pretty: I did 1.6 miles in 33:01; I was able to jog(ish) the first three cycles, then I skipped a couple, did one more, skipped a couple, did a couple... you get the drift. And my left knee isn't too happy with me right now, so I'm glad today is just a walking or elliptical day. And here's where I ended up on the Road to Hana: after today's unimpressive stats:

Like I said: the early part of the trip is... let's say unremarkable

But the real fun happened on my way back, only four houses from mine, when a car was headed my way and was WAY too close for comfort. I was trying to get the hell out of the way, when BOOM! Down I went, onto my RIGHT knee (because why fuck up one knee when I can fuck them both up, right? always the overachiever, I am), scraping the hell out of the knuckles of my right hand, and damaging the corner of my phone's screen protector (but not the screen itself, so YAY). Right in someone's driveway. And the someone was outside. With company. Sigh... On the bright side, while they didn't LAUGH (which would signify that I look quite young), they also didn't come running and asking if I was okay (which would signify that I'm OLD, bitch). They just stood there, watching me sit up, laugh my ass off, and then get back up (signifying, I suppose, that they think I'm a clumsy idiot?). Indeed, most accidents DO happen close to home. 🤦‍♀️

I've experienced 80 days of constant misery. On Day 81, I FINALLY had a day when every second was not heart-wrenchingly painful, AND felt Doug close to me. Does that mean I've rediscovered my will to live, and I'm determined and eager to make something of the shattered remains of my life, so you can now view me as the Inspirational Widow that the general public would expect me to be? Ummmm, no; I went to bed last night, hoping against hope that I wouldn't wake up today, just like I have every other day. All it means as that, for one day, I didn't feel like complete and total misery every minute. While that's a relief, it's hardly cause for me to celebrate. Not-constant misery does not equal happiness or fulfillment. 

Still, at least I have a couple of things that I now want to do. That doesn't make my life worth living, but I guess it's something.