Kayakity Yak

When I take a moment to consider this new found zeal for physical movement, I find I am really enjoying the feeling of being in my body so that when I get to a point where I don't have a choice (which will happen no matter what) I will have some memory of movement. I will look back (unless I am brain-dead) and remember some of the things I did (post cancer) because I made a conscious choice to do those things. I don't know about the cancer; whether cancer will kill me. I don't know about the proverbial "get(ing) hit by a truck tomorrow". I don't know about an infection from lymphedema. I don't know about anything. That is definitely one thing that cancer taught me. I don't know (and for a former knowitall, that is damn hard to admit). But I don't know anymore than you know. That's something I find interesting. The only difference between you and me is chemotherapy, lymphedema, and a big ass.

I decided (with the support of Chris) that our next adventure will be kayaking. After my successful (alone!) morning bicycle trip on Saturday, we drove out to Moss Landing to check on kayaks, fees etc. All day, $30. per person - seems reasonable (especially if we get a (tandem) double and I sit in back, pretending to row the whole time). We will put kayaking on our list. Beginning of September will find us wending our way through Northern California on the California Melee (which isn't so physical for me as mental (putting up with those classic (read cheap) car-driving goobers requires tremendous mental energy). End of September we will be in Zion, Utah, bicycling.

When I was so sick from chemo most days I couldn't muster the strength to move except to the bathroom, and occasionally to put my clothes on for a forced walk up the driveway. Right now, I can move. I am extremely grateful and that is all that matters.