I get up and slowly start to walk up the stairs. My knees hurt, and my arches. I can feel my quads, and vaguely consider googling shin splints.
Did I run a half marathon? Do a multi-day mountain hike? Have a spectacular surfing wipeout? No. I tried to increase my step count back up to 10 thousand a day.
For years I was fanatical about my 10K steps. It was my coping mechanism when my marriage collapsed, then it was a way to stay fit as I traveled, then it was just a habit. It fell off when I lived in Barbados, but there I was surfing most days, so I was still very fit.
Something always changes, though. The chaos of life intervenes.
When I was young it seemed like fit just happened. In university, the first few days of my summer field jobs were tough as I went from exam study and post-exam partying to work so hard I was too tired to eat dinner. But, voila! Less than a week and I was fit again. Before children I went to the gym regularly, and after children the stress of being a teacher, a parent, and the main keeper of the house and gardens kept me in shape. Living in Squamish I rock climbed, played ice hockey, and went to the gym to keep myself strong for my sports.
And then at 40 I fell apart for the first time. We’d moved to Chilliwack— no rock-climbing buddies and the nearest women’s hockey team was an hour’s drive away. I still gardened, but the gym would require a babysitter, so it rarely happened. My new, young doctor couldn’t figure out why I kept getting worse, and when a genetic test showed the gene for Ankylosing Spondylitis, he recommended I cut back even further on my exercise. The rheumatologist told me to give up all contact sports, and I went from fit to someone who couldn’t turn my head enough to shoulder check when I drove. They wrote prescriptions.
We moved again, and I began the process of getting back in shape. I started with aqua fit, then classes, then boot camps. Despite what doctors had said, I knew that I felt better when I stayed strong. It came and went, of course, often precipitated by stress.
I always fought my way back to fitness. I learned what worked for me and my body: activity, diet, supplements, prioritizing my mental health. In December of 2019 I hiked the Incan Trail to Machu Picchu.
And then— Covid. I went from hiking 4 days in the Andes to unable to walk up a flight of stairs without stopping. But I knew I had to persevere, and by the time I went to Barbados in the fall of 2020 I was in shape again.
My years in the Caribbean were the healthiest of my life, I think. Surfing, hiking, great friends, a new love, sunshine… And then, again, the wheel turned.
2024 started with a ruptured appendix that the doctor missed on New Year’s Eve. I scarcely left my bed for a month except for medical visits, including the dermatologist appointment that diagnosed both basal cell carcinomas and a melanoma. We returned to Canada in the spring, permanently. My recovery was well on the way until June, when I broke my arm and my son died. When we went to Hawaii in November, I had to paddle out on my knees to spread some of my son’s ashes, because I couldn’t move the paddleboard standing up. Surfing was impossible.
It took about 18 months after the appendix to feel like I was back to myself and fit again. We went to Bali and I surfed every day for two weeks. On three ski trips this season I felt like I was skiing better than I ever had. We finally visited Barbados again and had a wonderful time, and my surfing was even better than when we first left.
And on the way home, Scott caught a bug on the plane. He shared it with me and we are only over the cough now, six weeks later.
So once again I start. After two days of 10 thousand steps I am reluctant to do much, so I visit my daughter and bribe myself with a walk with her and Thor, her dog. The next day I can’t even bring myself to do my “Yoga for when you don’t feel like doing anything.”
But the sun was shining on the mountain across the bay, so Scott and I went and hiked up it. Getting the steps was no longer a chore as we powered up the trails.
This is why I do it. When we go to Switzerland I want to be hiking in the Alps, not looking at them through the window of a train or a gondola. If it keeps my heart healthy so I live longer, that’s the bonus. Doing yoga and using our balance board makes me a better surfer, but it will also help prevent the falls that are so dangerous as we get older.
Small habits add up. I re-injured my wrist 4 months ago and thought it was not healing. When I went to the hand physiotherapist last week I discovered that I have been holding my phone funny because of it, and that has probably caused the carpal tunnel syndrome.
I remind myself that good habits add up too. Daily meditation helps me through rough patches. Healthy eating and exercise make me feel better overall.
In some ways my genetic conditions are a blessing. For decades, I have never had the option of doing nothing and feeling fine. As I tell people, “I hurt every morning. I’d rather it be from doing something active than just because I woke up.”
I will take a break from my step goal today. My quads are tight and the arch on one foot hurts. But when I finish my coffee I will get out my yoga mat and exercise.
Because after all, what is the alternative?
Brave Travels 