Time for a Bed Count and a Review of Peru

When I wasn't paying close attention, we reached a traveling milestone of sorts -- 100th bed slept in since March 19, 2014 when we set off from Chicago on our journey into this new phase. We reached this milestone while traveling in Peru, the topic of this post.
So beyond my eating difficulties (see previous post and the cute, edible Guinea pigs) how was the trip to Peru?

I'm going to answer that question in my usual round-about way because hey, I've got the time.

There were people on our tour who since their elementary school days, after looking at pics of Machu Picchu, had dreamed of visiting Peru and gazing at Machu Picchu. I wasn't one of them. Since I don't remember studying Peru, I was probably busy not paying attention in class or reading Nancy Drew or about Florence Nightingale. Either way, it wasn't my dream.
 Others on the trip considered hiking to Machu Picchu and around the ruins of the Sacred Valley experiences of a life time. I really didn't fall into that category either. As I too soon discovered in Peru, a few ruins, that are basically created from the same look-alike granite, go a long, long way with me no matter how tall, complicated or symmetrically perfect. Not to mention I still itch from those nasty, blood-sucking little flies.

    Ollantaytambo, Sacred Valley
    

However, R had long wanted to visit Peru and especially Machu Picchu so in the spirit of marital harmony, I agreed. More than one time over the years, a visit there was on the books and I found a way of wiggling out of the trip.

This time I did not wiggle.

Learning about the Andeans, past and present, was my favorite part of this adventure. I'm amazed that people live in an environment as rugged and in many ways as harsh as the Andes. I loved our peek into Peruvian countryside culture via the "Primitive Market Tour" as our guides dubbed it. I was fascinated watching three adults wrestle a huge pig into a bag for its trip to their village where he would meet his final destiny.  I was captivated in an American-grossed out sort of way by the Andean woman quietly eating her homemade (of course!) cow's head soup with the cow's teeth jutting out of her bowl. While the cloud forest mountains of Machu Picchu are beautiful, the chaotic, dusty, colorful, rural ways were what caught my interest.

   This guy went unhappily and loudly into a bag

    Market, Urubamba, Peru

With that said,

If Peru is on your list of must have life experiences here are a few ideas to consider before heading off --

-- Altitude sickness is a real thing and impacts some more than others. It usually manifests as both middle of the night wakefulness (resulting in fatigue the next day)  and a crushing nighttime and daytime headache. Oxygen, available at most tourist hotels, helps as does Ibuprofen.
-- The trip is strenuous, even if you only hike a mile or so on the Inca Trail. This is the land of stone streets, thousands of uneven, high steps, and soaring elevation. And just so you know, the Sun Gate is about 1 1/2 hours of straight up walking. You'll be visiting ancient ruins not modern structures with ramps and lifts. Wear sensible shoes.
-- During dry season, Machu Picchu is busy since 3,500 people are allowed into the site each day. You will not visit these sites alone, although you may wish you were.
-- Even if your tour guides don't suggest it,  WEAR BUGS-AWAY LONG PANTS (for the uninitiated, these are pants treated with bug repellent). During season, those nasty little flying biting nats BITE! Three and a half weeks post MP my bites, while healing still itch.
-- About half the folks on our trip fell ill at one point or another. Bottled water and a good supply of Imodium and possibly antibiotics, are your best travel friends. Also pack bite stick, hydrocortisone, Calamine lotion, and possibly Benadryl. This arsenal will win you friends and make you more comfortable.
-- Even though the economy and living conditions are much better than they were a few decades ago, Peru is a relatively poor country. Our guides emphasized that Peruvians believe that anyone who travels to their country is wealthy. You may be asked for money to take someone's photo or just because.

One aspect of travel I find wondrous is that different places are magical (or not) to different people. One person's idea of nirvana might be my idea of a ring of hell, or something like that. While Peru wasn't a top trip for me, it was a good one. But it wasn't magical. I still favor cycling trips over walking. However, my analysis of my Peruvian travel left me with a question I'd like to answer but seem unable yet to do so.

How does one balance exploring and trying out new adventures, including some that might disappoint, against sticking with what is known, tried and true, and previously explored?

Thoughts anyone?  Adventure Girl is listening.

Next planned trip -- Asia and the east coast of Australia -- by ship!
But first, someone will have a BIG birthday and we'll celebrate 35 years of ......marriage.
Stay calm and carry on!

   

    Fall in Bend

Food Wars -- Traveling in Peru as a Celiac Fish Eating Vegan

We've safely returned to the states after our Peruvian adventures, back to toilets that readily flush toilet paper, bug repellent that actually prevents bloody bug bites, and drivers who mostly respect car lanes. Before reviewing how the new food identity worked out, I just want to say -- Peruvians just may be the worst drivers I've ever encountered.

Last spring I thought Italians were the all time worst drivers and road time there certainly activated my fear (a.k.a screaming) response. But Peru, especially Lima, is a nightmarish tangle of horns, rusty metal, and screeching tires. Part of the issue is that about 11 million people live in Lima and 10 million of them drive cars. I'm convinced that all 10 million cars are driven at exactly the same time and usually crammed into just one lane. Simply stated there are just too many cars on the road. And then there are the loose interpretations of rules of the road.  One guide pointed out that "the lines on the road are just decorations" which allows drivers to creatively turn three clearly marked lanes into six or more chaotic messes, with drivers pushing and bullying their way through the muddle. Eventually, I stopped counting the number of near misses, almost collisions, potential wheels-off-the-
road-and-down-the-cliff experiences. It seemed implied that no space, alley, mountainous dirt road is too small or too crowded to attempt to wedge one more shuttle bus or car or both on through. The primitive part of my brain surprised even me with its new arrangements of panic cries.

Of course, none of this has to do with food and travel. I'm just providing providing a little 
warm up on Peru.

On to food. Here's my overall assessment of Peru-- a vegan would probably starve in Peru, 
especially in the Andes.

 While Andeans eat lots of vegetables, especially potatoes and tough, chewy corn, they
also love to add cheese to food. And they eat guinea pig and cute, cuddly looking Alpacas which they turn into steak.

We traveled from the states to Lima and on to Cusco for a walking tour of the Sacred Valley, Machu Picchu, and beyond. This trip was my test to see if I could travel and maintain a healthy gluten free, vegan diet that includes fish. 

How'd I do?

I'm happy to report that I did not completely fail, although I did not succeed 100% of the time, either. Prior to setting off, I thought eating in the land of quinoa, potatoes, and seafood would be a breeze. Now I know that I need to stop fantasizing about how I imagine something will go and become a little more realistic and strategic. Traveling in most countries with so many dietary restrictions will just be.....challenging.

For instance, Peruvians cook with butter so it took me a day or two to figure this out and to ask that my food be steamed or prepared in oil. Potatoes, which I ate frequently and are plentiful (4300 varieties of potatoes in Peru) could be roasted in oil rather than butter. This seemed like news to Peruvian chefs. Never did I imagine that innocent, healthy quinoa could turn against me. Sometimes it was prepared with wheat, sometimes with cheese, and at times with both or infrequently when I hit the jackpot, with neither, just vegetables.
While I was determined not to eat saturated fat-laden cheese, I did end up eating some grilled white meat chicken and felt, at those moments, that I was cheating on my pescatarian cardiologist. I had a couple of completely vegan days, mostly forced upon me because vegetables and rice were my only options when others were being served guinea pig, pizza, or jumbo sized burgers with bacon. You'd have thought we were in the states, except for the roasted guinea pig. Peruvian salmon trout and white fish, when prepared with oil were excellent options, when I could find them on the menu.

Guinea pigs. Usually home raised. I told them to make a break for it but they seemed content to chew grass and sniff one another. They are blissfully unaware of their fate.

I found myself frustrated with the tour company guides'  (VBT.com which on previous bike tours had done a stellar job) inattention to my food needs at group meals. At a highly touted picnic on the seventh day catered by Cusco's best restaurant dish after Peruvian dish were presented to the group, most all made with wheat and off limits to me. While group members stuffed themselves with Andean quiche, roasted Alpaca, quinoa patties, quinoa encrusted chicken and other specialties, I ate roasted potatoes, some kind of salad, guacamole, and sliced tomatoes and avocado. Not bad, but not what we paid for. Going forward, we'll think hard before booking a group tour.

Once again, Think Thin gluten free  protein bars saved me a few times. We flew overnight from Dallas Fort Worth to Lima. American Airlines provided meals for everyone on board but me. The customer service person graciously said I was "entitled to a flight but not a meal" and the airline held firm on that policy for they had nothing on the long flight safe to eat. Must say that LAN airlines did a much better job on the return flight.

What did I learn? Traveling with dietary restrictions is challenging and will always be that way. I need to accept that and work with it. But hey, just attending a party or going to someone's house presents eating challenges for me. The up side? I actually lost weight while traveling around the Sacred Valley and Machu Picchu and returned home, after eating in Lima, at my usual weight. Not bad.

    Ceviche in Lima. Gluten free and surprisingly good.

   Could have been worse -- this woman is eating cow's head soup. Notice the teeth.

    Machu Picchu -- land of biting little bugs and great beauty.

Forging a New Food Identity

I'm in the midst of a food identity crisis. Ok, crisis is probably way too strong a word. Perhaps it is more a transition. That's it, I'm in a food transition.

Am I a celiac vegan who eats fish and egg whites? A pescatarian with celiac who avoids dairy?  I'm just not sure; I just feel confused.

About eight years ago, I was diagnosed with celiac.  Mostly, I have figured out how to eat and travel with this autoimmune illness. But what the doctor is now saying to me.....Oops, I'm getting ahead of myself. Let me back up.

Not long ago, I was sitting in the exam room intently looking at the new, highly recommended doctor. I was fresh from an EKG and echocardiogram and I had my dreadful Cardiac Calcium Screening report gripped in my hand.

Then he spoke.

"This is the one time you get to blame your parents."

In a nanosecond, I pondered what he had said and considered possible responses to the doctor's remark.  I'm thinking that some part of me has wanted to hear someone say just this -- Yup, for  these crappy heart reports, you can blame the parents.

I even considered that perhaps my former patients at times wanted me to say this to them. That they too could blame their parents for their situations.

But this is not a therapy session for me or one of my patients. The man seated across from me dressed in a summer plaid shirt, Keen hiking shoes, and cargo pants -- the typical physician uniform in Bend -- is my new cardiologist.
And he is giving me the go ahead to blame my parents for my sucky genetics. Oddly, despite his delivering rather unpleasant news, I like him. That's the best part of the visit.

Once I've digested the less than appealing test results, we move on to discuss what can be done. It is this discussion that has led me to a food identity crisis.

Despite my having eaten a fairly healthy diet over the decades, the nice new doc is suggesting I switch to a modified vegetarian diet, one that includes some healthy fish.

Many vegetarians eat dairy (lacto-vegetarian) but I try to avoid dairy which is more vegan-like. But vegans don't eat fish or egg whites.....and both vegans and vegetarians eat grains and I don't because I'm celiac but I do eat legumes and rice.

May be you understand my confusion? 

And I haven't even considered how the new food identity, whatever it is, will impact travel.
More to come.....and to ponder.

Until next time Gluten Free Black Bean, Quinoa, and Corn Vegetarian Patties. Sadly, they were kind of crumbly but tasted great.

Part III -- How Am I Doing?

Figuring out a new daily life (and activities)  --  We moved from Chicago to a small town in the west. This means that we've been building our new lives from scratch which is quite a different experience from folks who retire where they've lived. Constructing a new life is a process, takes lots of time, and especially takes effort. We'll be tweaking our lives, adding, subtracting, all that for some time to come. I think of this phase like dating -- lots of trial and error, experimenting, drawing upon what you know works for you mixed in with lots of risk-taking

So far, I've figured out I'm more a poker playing kind of girl than a bridge player.   Actually, I'd play any board game rather than bridge.

Right now, any activity with too much structure makes me want to bolt. Chairs lined up old fashioned lecture-hall style at Osher Life Long Learning Center caused me to do a fast and fancy night-club two step right out the door without any thoughts of looking back. Granted my quick escape is partially rooted in having completed a fair amount of graduate education and thus having sat through lots of academic classes. At this stage I'm not interested in someone lecturing at me. Lots of better ways exist for learning. I'm all about having experiences.

However, I've found that taking fun, active classes is an excellent way to sort through, in an experienced based way what I like. Dance class -- just ok. Digital photography -- good. Nordic ski lessons fun, active, cold, and painful!  The basic skills in kayaking course sealed the deal in terms of "Do we like this enough to fork over the money for kayaking gear?"  We did and we did. See pretty photo of shiny kayaks hanging and another thank you to Gregg for hanging the racks.

I'm just plain not ready to undertake a new long term work commitment. I've deflected professional opportunities because I'm simply not ready to do what others want. If I took a job, secretly, I know I probably would just not show up.

As much as I love dogs and devotedly cared for three different ones over 28 years, right now I satisfy my doggie care taking need by dog sitting our niece/nephew's 80 pound furry ball of love, Lily (see commitment issues explained above).

    

     The sweet and lovely Lily.

Joining a weekly hiking/walking group, a monthly book club, attending wine drinking socials has yielded interesting new connections and budding friendships. But more is in the works for building a sense of community. The summer has been packed with music. We've seen The Dobbie Brothers and Pink Martini in Bend and took a road trip to Eugene to see the still fab Jackson Browne. We've enjoyed local groups like The Moonlight Ramblers and Honey Don't all around town.

More to Come -- Travel -- Right now most other activities take a back seat to travel and experiencing the world. Trips to see the wonders of Peru and the jungles of the Osa Pennisula in Costa Rica, new locales for us, are on the books. The Go-Go Years are precious and not to be wasted. But in the future, I can imagine volunteering, perhaps finding some kind of work, writing more.

ADDITIONAL THOUGHTS

The easiest fix for a life is to work. Work provides identity, money, work relationships, structure, purpose and more. I decided that for two years, working was not option because I wanted to push myself to build a life beyond work, to settle in and that takes time and effort. I gave myself good advice.

Other advice I've given to me -- process the disappointments. If you didn't think disappointments were part of post-work life, think again. They are part of all lives. Might be disappointments with others, yourself, a place, your vision of how you thought this time would unfold, your aging body....who knows. They are there. Process them and move on. Time is a wasting.

The two concepts that guide my life right now are -- Postpone Nothing and Say "Yes" to Just About Everything (within reason).

Did I ever hanker to play Mah Jong? No, but someone asked if I wanted to learn and I said "Yes."  While I find this an incredibly complicated game that I'll probably always suck at, my "yes" yielded an invitation to lake kayaking and drinks after and discussions about future outings including snowshoeing in the winter. And oddly enough, two of the women also do not have children. Taking chances is powerful. You never know what it will yield.

The most important idea I hold and remind myself of each day is that I'll never have this time again and I'll probably never be healthier than I am now. This holds true for all of you, too.

This week, I hiked twice, including the easier trail at Smith Rock, kayaked, took a Mah Jong lesson, attended a wine event that included couples, joined women for drinks (I see a pattern emerging), cycled with R, and went to the movies. We'll close out the week by dog sitting Lily and listening to music at the High & Dry Bluegrass Festival -- where the niece, nephew, and grandniece will perform. Not bad.

Smith Rock, Oregon

Part II-- How Am I Doing? Assessment of First 7 1/2 Months

This will be a two-part post. By-the-way, bed count is 94 -- but more about that in another post.


As they approach retirement, some people figure out that a big adventure, at least initially, is what they want and need. Penny and Eric at (cycle4retirement.com) decided to bicycle into their retirement (see New Retirees Head Around the World by Bike (WSJ Reports).  The Home Free Adventure folks (homefreeadventures.com) sold their home and most of its contents, stored what was left, then took off on international traveling adventures, renting apartments for a month or two at a time. They were on the road for four years. The Senior Nomads in Europe (seniornomads.com) rented out their Seattle home and set off for Europe (their home is now listed for sale) where they are enjoying year two of travel. While love of travel and a desire to see the world certainly bind these retirees, I think their stories reveal something more. These are adventure seeking risk-takers who so fully embrace the "Go-Go Years" that they, well really go! In many ways they are my heroes for they believe the phase that follows a life time of adult (and for some of us beginning in adolescence) working can be anything you want it to be. It is yours. It can be an adventure.

In 2012 after R retired and the possibility for longer travel (3 weeks! Who knew the wonders) opened up, my inner Adventure Girl was unleashed with her mission of seeing and experiencing as much of the world as she could afford. Out she sprang or leapt or flew and I've certainly been uninterested in reining her in.

While tracking how others model this phase is helpful, ultimately we must create our own model -- which is a process. R's and my entry into this phase included almost six months of travel on three cruises, two group bike trips, and visits to Portugal, Amsterdam, Brussels, Ireland, Faroe Islands, Shetland Island, Glasgow, Scotland, Copenhagen, Denmark, Oslo, parts of Norway, Iceland, Hawaiian Islands, French Polynesia (Bora Bora!), Australia, and the North and South Islands of New Zealand, not to mention a visit to NYC and other U.S. stops including a few national parks. Our model was to engage in some big adventures and then settle into a home.

Has this worked?

What has worked?

Let's find out.

WHAT HAS WORKED --

Housing -- We bought the right size house. I could have gone smaller while R finds this the perfect size. In hindsight, I could have and really wanted to live home free one more year -- that's how Adventure Girl thinks. The house works for us. Recently, we entertained 19 folks in our little cottage. We were a snug but comfortable group and told people to spread out wherever they could find space. It worked out. Want to know my two most favorite places in the house?

1. The utility/mud/laundry room that connects to the garage. Who knew a sink in a laundry 
room could solve so many of life's issues? It can't but it sure helps with laundry and other 
cleaning problems.

2. The garage. I know this space is usually loved and claimed by men but I love it. Perhaps it is because we were city dwellers for 10 years and therefore garage-less that I have such a love for our concrete space. We try to keep it neat and organized (thank you Gregg Morris for all your help and ideas).

Our town --  Bend -- We are more than pleased that we selected Bend as our home base. Many a morning, I step out into the cool desert air, look up at the beautiful desert sky and think how lucky I am.  And how much I love low humidity. It is a pleasure to observe and participate in the grandniece's growth and to spend time with her wonderful, talented parents. And despite what I thought, people (including the niece and nephew) were right about GEAR.  When we were in the midst of the house building process, locals would tell us we needed room for our GEAR. Since we were fairly GEARLESS at that point, except for our two well-worn Cannondale hybrid bikes that we'd schlepped from Chicago, I'm not sure we understood the concept of GEAR. Now we own new snowshoes, fancy, warm ski gloves, ski masks, hiking poles, hiking socks, new Trek hybrid bikes (which hang on the garage walls), an upscale bike rack for the car and kayaks (and all the necessary kayak 
stuff) which we tote with our sophisticated kayak rack. We own GEAR! As a minimalist 
wanna be, I'm certain this is not a good trend. 

Pretty kayaks hanging on their very cool racks. We own GEAR.

Next up -- Part III

Retirement Journey So Far Part 1: How'd I Do in the First Six and a Half Months?

About 15 months ago, we set off from Chicago on our initial journey into this next life-phase. R was fully retired and I was planning to live a mid-life gap year of fun and adventure. This journey included relocating to the Western part of the U.S., buying a little cottage in Bend, OR., and lots of planned travel varying in levels of adventure.

We've been living in our Bend house now for six and a half months so I'm over due for my six month check in -- to see how retired life is working for me, since I consider these six and a half months my initial retirement. As email-luck would have it, my friends at Vanguard recently sent me the article 5 Things to Think About on Your Journey to Retirement.  Perfect, I thought, I'm in the mood to think and analyze. More than half the article focused on planning basics --  when to start saving, figuring out your savings needs, calculating retirement expenses. Important stuff but not the focus of my six month evaluation. The last section grew more interesting with questions like What's your vision for the (retirement) future? Now we are talking, I thought -- let's start exploring how we want to live our lives. My interest built as I anticipated that the article's last section would help me assess and clarify how my own journey was moving along.

The final section opened with You're living life as a retiree -- finally! Is there anything about your lifestyle that hasn't met your expectations?

Great question, I thought as I read on. I'm ready to think about this.

"About five years after you retire, consider asking yourself whether or not retirement is what you thought it would be...."

Wait! What the f...? Five years? Wait five years to ask this question? Are they nuts?
Suddenly, my friends at Vanguard were not such good friends. Or at least not bright friends. They seemed to be ignoring one of the enormous realities of life -- that unforeseen events happen that can quickly change one's plans -- while at the same time suggesting that one diddle away a fair amount of precious time before evaluating how life is going. From my perspective, this is a big problem.

Let me explain.

As a psychotherapist, I'm a believer in development and developmental phases (infancy, childhood, adolescence, adulthood, etc.) in that life can be roughly and flexibly broken into stages, with attending tasks or events associated with each phase. This idea applies to retirement. Michael Stein, CFP, is often attributed with (though others may have espoused this) the idea that for most people living in retirement follows three separate age related stages -- The Go-Go Years, The Slow-Go Years, and The No-Go Years.  The related ages for each stage are somewhat loosely configured as 

Go-Go Years --ages 55 (or 60 or 65) to mid-70s. These are presumably one's most active and healthy years, when one has lots of get up and go.

Slow-Go Years -- roughly mid- 70s to 85 when for many dashing through retirement 
seems less appealing and health and general aging cause them to slow down.

The No-Go Years -- 85 to ........ when retirees just don't go much. These are more the 
rocking chair on the porch years. Ok I know what some of you are thinking -- you've heard 
stories of people in their 90s running marathons or cycling in the Senior Tour de France, or climbing the Himalayas but those folks are likely exceptions. I've also heard people anticipate their own life expectancies in retirement based on their parents. Some describe how long a parent, an aunt or uncle lived rather than how well they lived in retirement. Quality of life. My own father died at age 84 but I don't think anyone, including him, thought his last six to eight years were his best and most active.

Others never live to see retirement. My mother died at age 55 well before she could retire. I've known plenty of others who died in their mid to late 50s or early 60s never knowing retirement's pleasures. To my way of thinking, arriving at the Go-Go Years is a privilege, probably a gift and one not to waste.

Let's go back to Vanguard's idea that after five years in retirement one evaluate how retirement is progressing. Let's say Ms. Susie B., an attorney, retired at age 65 and following Vanguard's model decided at age 70 to assess her retirement satisfaction. I'm no numbers genius, but seems to me that would give her only five more of the precious Go-Go Years to adjust her course and more fully live her retirement vision. That's not much time, especially after a lifetime of work.

My advice, which is not about finances, is to spend the five years prior to retiring coming to know yourself, figuring out what you want from this phase, and creating your vision of how you want to spend those precious Go-Go Years, knowing that your ideas, wants, needs will probably change and evolve once you live in that phase. And then six months or so into retirement living (not five years!), evaluate your progress so you can adjust if needed to make the most of the 
active, healthy, Go-Go Years.  And periodically, keep assessing your life. You never get 
back any of this time.  Don't waste it.

Next post -- Assessing My Initial Go-Go Years.

Hiking on Orcas Island, WA

Life is Fun, but Sometimes Dangerous. Wear a Helmet and May be Sunglasses

In previous posts, I've proclaimed my love for Italy. Oh sure, I whined about those scary Italian drivers and my equally scary husband-driver. And about mosquitos, starting dinner at 8:30pm, limited availability of air-conditioning and several other minor issues that I can't readily recall. But Italy was fun. Beautiful food, intriguing ruins, gorgeous scenery, helpful people.  It is also where I crashed -- while cycling.

I'm a seasoned cyclist, though not a particularly gifted one. I'm what might be called an unnatural athlete, someone who enjoys a sport in spite of her varied limitations. R and I have taken many cycling trips over the past 12 years. Some were more challenging, some less so. Some overseas and several in North America. This was the first time I recall three people falling off their bikes, including me. Crashing was not part of my traveling plan nor was visiting an Italian urgent care clinic on a Sunday afternoon.

The first cyclist crashed on our first full day of cycling. She was upset, frustrated, and very bruised but she finished the ride and rode everyday the rest of the trip. The other cyclist crashed while cycling with her adult kids. She finished the day in the van but then was back at it, riding every day at least for part of the day. I must say they were more elegant "crashers" than I was, more able to take their spills out of view from most of the group, allowing their middle aged bodies their earned respect and just presenting their bruised and battered selves later for story telling during dinner.

I, however, crashed in a big, public way. Cycling along, I yelled a warning about broken pavement to the three cyclists behind me, slowed way down at the tremendously jagged, dislocated pavement, calculated how I would cross the narrow bridge in the middle and 
then crashed, full body and bike sprawled across the path. No one could miss me. Or did. I blocked the frickin path -- with my body and the bike.

R who from behind watched my terrible decent, quickly phoned the guide in the van while the guide cycling behind arrived to help assess my damage. All seemed ok until the guides, fluent in both English and Italian, switched quickly to Italian as they formulated a plan. I think the blood gushing from my face, the dent in my helmet and R's report that my head 
bounced were the ticket to a clinic visit.

I try to find the humor in the situation. Let's see -- sprawled on the path in the warm Italian sun, left knee propped on the spilled bike because I think I've broken my knee....Probably not funny. Blood gushing from my face, which I was fairly certain was from a broken 
nose....No, not overly funny. Italian soil in my mouth. Definitely not funny. Italian doctor, 
flashlight in hand, examining the inside of my mouth is see if I did bite through my lip. Oh, 
so not funny.

I guess what was slightly humorous was that I won the prize for the most public, inelegant crash as well as the one for the most noticeable wounds -- surgical tape above my lip, black eye, scraped face, scraped, painfully bruised knee, and bruised hand. Apparently, I'm 
competitive even with crashing.


But there is fear in crashing. Our bodies anticipate future experiences based on recent past experiences. Back at home, my body is hyperalert to danger, especially when I cycle.  Unlike the other two crashers, I did not cycle the last day of the Puglia trip, mostly because all my parts hurt, I was limping and unable to bend my knee.

To engage in life, to be active and participating can be dangerous. But to my way of 
thinking, it is much more dangerous not to engage, to hang back, afraid of what might 
happen.

Bits of old, probably wise, useful lyrics and sayings have drifted through my mind of late, 
including "I'm Back in the Saddle Again" "Pick yourself up, dust yourself off, and start all over again" and the just simple, plain, "When you fall down, get back up and try again."
I'm cycling again. So far not more than 15 miles. I'm on alert for oversized pot holes, risky drain grates, and mischievous gravel, in my overly active mind, dangers all. I fuss with and adjust and readjust my helmet, making sure it will not pop off if I spill. Several miles into a ride I begin to relax some and enjoy the sport again. I look forward to the day when I cycle without so much tension.

If we don't risk, we don't gain and if we don't gain....what is life?   Get back in the saddle is
 my advice to myself and everyone else, but wear a helmet and sunglasses and sunscreen, especially in Italy.

   Beautiful Puglia