So It Took a Pandemic to Write a Post?

AB24 Comments

It’s been a while. Almost two years. And yes, it does appear that this pandemic and the mandatory “shelter-in-place” orders that I and many others (and probably all of us soon) are dealing with was the kick in the butt for me to share an update. It’s not that I haven’t had anything to say, because I most certainly have. It seems that having a dog and a cat wasn’t enough of a challenge for Brita and me, so we decided to add another being into the household. (Why only pick up poop for two animals when the smelly world of diapers awaits!)

Last year we had the incredible joy of welcoming our daughter, Yara, into our family. I won’t even try to describe the feeling of becoming a father because, frankly, I can’t. No post or update could even begin to sum up the magnitude of this monumental experience. All I will say is that all the cliches I’ve heard are true. It’s beautiful and transformative and magical and challenging and humbling and everything else. More than anything, it’s given me a new purpose, joy and objective in life.

I started writing this blog simply as a means of keeping my family and close friends informed of the steps in my recovery from spinal cord injury. Unexpectedly, it grew and turned into something so much bigger than I ever expected. Throughout this growth, I promised myself that I would only write and post my thoughts here when it came from a genuine place and a true desire to share something that I felt needed to be shared. Nothing forced or contrived and no posting just for the sake of posting.

As it turned out, the impetus for me writing my book was the feedback and comments I received from so many of you. I would have never had the idea of pouring countless hours into trying to publish a book – a truly insane and financially stupid endeavor – had it not been for the reception I received from readers of this blog. I’m forever grateful to all of you for that. While my book is not in the top 10, or 100, or 1,000, or 10,000 on the bestseller list, I have zero regrets. Completing the book and getting my story out there has been fulfilling in and of itself.

But the truth is that after publishing the book, finding numerous ways of seeking press, giving book talks and interviews on my story, all the while continuing to do speaking engagements, I was TIRED. Tired of chronicling everything, tired of putting myself out there, tired of trying to reach more and more people, and tired of hearing myself talk (17 hours in a studio reading and recording the audiobook version of my memoir magnified this to another level…).

Self-promotion just doesn’t come naturally to me which – I’m well aware – makes me an awkward fit for our current time. It’s also why I participate so little in social media. Condensing my thoughts into 280 character tweets, or snapping “perfect” instagram shots with clever hashtags, or competing with puppies, babies and semi-coherent political rants on Facebook… just ain’t my thing.

Which brings me to this moment. I still choose this medium for sharing because I like it the best. For the record, I’m still working hard on my recovery, doing everything I can to get stronger everyday, and seeking the most effective ways to do so. But I’m no longer certain that my posts and updates can be limited to the state of my physical recovery from here on out. And I’m not sure I want them to be. There’s a lot that I want to share beyond my injury or my physical body and this seems like a great opportunity to expand the scope of my website to be something more.

My love of cooking and my passion for food as healing; my experiences traveling near and far; my challenges and successes with fatherhood; my impressions on a society where – despite what we’re led to believe – people seem further and further disconnected from each other, and from the planet – these are some of the themes I look forward to exploring and sharing more about here.

I guess it’s fitting that on this 100th post of my blog, I’m changing things up. Blame it on the pandemic and I hope you’ll stick around for the ride.   🙂

*****

Like everyone else, I’ve been doing my best to remain sane and healthy while staying at home and praying that COVID19 doesn’t get me. For years now, swimming has been my main form of exercise and I’ve never gone more than a couple of days without getting in the pool. The water is my happy place, where I can clear my mind, relieve my daily physical pain, and where I have the most physical freedom. (I’ve written about it many times like here, here and here).

With all the pools closed for weeks, and unable to turn my bathtub into a workable substitute, I had to get creative. Despite the fact that I live next to the ocean, I don’t love swimming in it. Waves and currents are difficult with how I swim and the water is bone-numbingly frigid at its very warmest. But desperate times call for desperate measures. So the other day Brita and I dusted off our wetsuits and thermal caps and decided to jump into the bay. Within 30 seconds, I had that familiar splitting headache across my forehead from the ~55°F water, but it receded with every stroke and I was able to focus on the birds and sky above, and take a much needed mental break from anything having to do with quarantines, hand washing, and impending economic collapse. No need to worry about social distancing when the only thing around me are seagulls and kelp. It was joyful, necessary and extremely fulfilling.

I hope all of you are able to find your own little version of this for yourselves, and create some space and calm during this surreal and bizarre time.

So much more than just a swim

AB23 Comments

I’ve always loved pushing my physical limits.

There was a time, before my injury and the compromised state of my entire neurological system, when working towards a physical accomplishment like a marathon or a multiple day trek through the mountains was a significant accomplishment on its own. Now, with the daily challenges that come with life in a completely different body, it would seem logical that merely dealing with these challenges would be enough, that taking on anything beyond those day to day struggles would seem unreasonable.

I have to deal with how my body functions in its present state, even as I continue to recover function and to work towards my ultimate goal of getting back on my feet. But challenging that present state and pushing myself way past what I thought was possible is inevitable. It’s a part of my personality. I can’t suppress it and just because I’m dealing with a compromised body doesn’t mean that I’ve lost the desire to figure out where my limits are, and challenge myself further. I just can’t help myself…

Tomorrow, I take on the biggest single day physical challenge of my life. I will swim five miles around Donner Lake, at an altitude of 6000 feet, surrounded by the mountains that I’ve known, explored, cherished and loved for my entire life. Three years ago, I was too weak to get my head out of the water to breathe and could only use a snorkel to swim for a few minutes. Two years ago, I was able to swim in the pool, but I would have to take a break after every 50 meter lap and catch my breath. A year ago, I worked my way up to a 2.4 mile open water swim in a lake. And now, this…

At each of those moments, the thought of achieving the next accomplishment seemed nearly impossible. But my love of being in the water fueled me forward and my insatiable desire to prove that no one would set my limits for me but myself kept me motivated and committed to keep working towards my objective.

So after months and months of training, countless trips to the pool following my already intensive rehab schedule, innumerable occasions where I visualized how this would all go down, here I am, ready to take this on. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t at least a little nervous, because I am, but more than anything I’m excited.

I know that swimming around a lake is not the same thing as walking independently, but I also know that being able to tackle and achieve this smaller goal gives me the confidence to continue working so hard towards my ultimate goal.

Donner Lake: I’m thrilled to see you tomorrow.

image1

Swim like a cannibal pioneer

AB18 Comments

Throughout my journey of recovery from spinal cord injury, as I’ve maintained my focus and commitment on reaching my ultimate goal of getting back on my feet and walking, I’ve learned the value of setting and working towards smaller goals. The proverbial mountain I’m trying to climb is bigger than anything I’ve ever experienced and I have been, and continue to be, in it for the long haul. I’m proud of the progress I’ve made and the accomplishments that I’ve achieved (all of which I was told I wouldn’t do) but I would be lying if I said that my journey has been anything but arduous, full of challenges, breakthroughs, moments of immense frustration and moments of unparalleled hopefulness.

Because of the immensity of my goal, I have found focus and comfort in setting smaller, more attainable objectives and working towards those. The best example of this was the months and months of hard work I did that was dedicated to the moment I would be able to finally stand up on my own and ask Brita to marry me.

I’ve previously shared my newfound love of being in the water and swimming largely because of the freedom I feel from the weightlessness and the relief of pain from not having to deal with gravity and its impact on my body. Last summer, I set a goal to complete a 2.4 mile open water swim and I thoroughly enjoyed the process of training as well as actually completing the swim. But I remember that the moment it was over, I was already looking ahead to the next challenge. A couple months later, during a trip to visit friends, Brita and I swam in Lake Tahoe’s smaller, slightly warmer, less sexy and well-known but still gorgeous neighbor: Donner Lake.

Since I was seeking a new swimming challenge and wasn’t quite able to find an existing event that could serve the purpose (the swims weren’t long enough or they were relays with too much distance or the water temperature and other conditions were too challenging), I decided I would make up my own event and the answer couldn’t be more obvious.

Though I toyed with the idea for quite some time, it’s only recently that I finally put the pieces together and decided that my new challenge would be to circumnavigate the perimeter of Donner Lake, which by my best Google Earth estimates, comes out to 5.8 miles.

Yes it’s more than double what I did last summer, yes it will be at 6000 feet of altitude, and yes with my steady but very slow pace of swimming it will likely take me the equivalent of a cross-country flight, but I couldn’t be more excited about it. I want the swim to be about so much more than just my personal commitment to work towards this goal (I’m going to do that no matter what) so I’m inviting friends and others to join me in this endeavor. Whether swimming is completely new or a familiar activity, working towards a personal goal, whatever that may be, is what I want to encourage.

The non-profit that a few friends and I recently established (more to come on that on a future post) will be organizing the swim and raising money for our mission. If you’re interested in participating, you can join as a swimmer or non-swimmer (there are options to kayak, paddleboard, or just simply hang out, cheer and support), just comment on the post or contact me individually.

Because it’s in Donner Lake, near Donner Pass and everything else named Donner, the swim is the Donner Party Swim. For those of you not from Northern California who didn’t hear the story of the Donner Party pioneers (yes there was cannibalism involved) a thousand times as a child, educate yourselves here.

Before my injury, with a fully functional body, I could barely swim a quarter of a mile in the pool before gasping for air and calling it quits. Two years ago, I could swim no more than a couple hundred meters but only with a snorkel and many rest breaks. A year ago, I thought it would be nearly impossible to swim 2.4 miles in open water. Now, it’s time to work towards something much bigger and more challenging, to prove that I can do it, but also to remind myself that this will be just another step in my larger journey of recovery and reaching my ultimate goal.

Walking on water… I mean… IN water

AB36 Comments

Finally a new blog post! Yes it has been a while and I’ve received more than a little flak for not posting a recent update so here I am.

Last summer I wrote a post about my newfound love for swimming and for being in the water. At the time, I had trained for, and completed, a 2.4 mile open water swim and since then my love for being in the water has not only remained steady but increased.

At the end of most of my swims, I usually spend the last few minutes standing, doing squats against the pool wall, bobbing up and down and playing around, and just trying to move my body in an upright position and challenge myself in ways that I can’t do on land, for fear of gravity getting the better of me and tumbling into the ground. In the past, I would try to walk in the pool by leaning my hands on Brita’s shoulders for balance (and in turn challenging her balance with my sloppy grabbing/leaning/pushing/pulling motions) and she would step my legs for me with her hands and keep me upright with her knees as I tried –and likely didn’t succeed– to look somewhat competent. Not too long ago, one day when Brita was out of the pool and I was lingering in the water, soaking up (pun intended) every last bit of the floaty, weightless, aqua goodness, I tried to give walking a go by myself.

In chest high water, I was able to keep my balance by thrashing my arms and pushing the water around as I would lean forward, back, or to the sides. Then I could concentrate on trying to take steps, which is still the missing piece of my walking abilities on land. It was ugly, and I was probably straining way too many muscles and contorting my body like a slow motion Frankenstein, but I was able to take a few very labored steps. While this has improved a bit over the last few months, it’s hard to work at it consistently because of the logistics of the pools I’m in, the varying depths of the lanes, fatigue, etc.

Recently, I spent a few days at Neuroworx, a state of the art non-profit neurological rehab center that I went to shortly in 2013, not too long after my injury (my posts here and here) and had the great fortune of using their incredible therapy pool. With parallel bars in the water, underwater cameras at every angle, and a floor that raises up and down and functions as a treadmill, this thing is BADASS. After doing some core exercises, we decided to turn on the treadmill at a very slow speed and see how I could walk.

Now let me take a moment to be clear and avoid any misleading or false hope.

I am still cranking and pulling with my back more than I ever should. Pulling my legs forward is extremely challenging and takes all of my effort. I’m holding onto parallel bars for balance. I’m supported by the water and the lack of gravity makes it a lot easier to move. At this time, I am NOT able to replicate this on land. You can’t see my upper body but my walk is still ugly and slightly less, but still undoubtedly Frankenstein-esque.

So with all of that said, here’s my water walking.

Not great, but not bad right? I’m pulling one leg through and maintaining support on the other leg, I’m not falling over (mostly thanks to the parallel bars) and once I get started and in the rhythm, I can keep this going for a couple of minutes.

Everyone always asks me what this feels like, does it feel like I’m walking and the answer is simple: I don’t know. It doesn’t feel completely natural or controlled but it’s also not a random, disconnected, spastic movement. I know that I’m compensating my weaknesses by walking in a very unconventional way, but at the end of the day, I’m taking steps. I’m propelling myself on my own two feet. And it still feels pretty damn good.