Zest -- It's more than soap!

O.K., so maybe you have to be "of a certain age" to recognize Zest as a soap.  After all, the once ubiquitous (♫You're not really clean 'til your Zestfully clean♫) bar has been around since 1955.  Zest's claim to fame was that it was not really a soap because it didn't leave behind a soapy film.  It had a bright (though mostly unnatural) scent that I still remember.  Zest had a place in the soap dish when I was kid.  Did you know most odor-cued memories are located in the first ten years of life?  No doubt, this is why I  still associate the smell of Jergen's Lotion and Juicy Fruit gum with my mom . . .   But hey, what the heck does all of this have to do with the Unexpected Journey?

Well, first of all, it's zest -- not Zest that's on my mind today.

Today I'm thinking of zest (lower case) the character trait, not Zest, the soap.  VIA describes the zest character strength (one of my top five) as:

. . . approaching a situation, or life in general, with excitement and energy, not approaching tasks or activities halfway or halfheartedly. People who are high in zest are excited to get up in the morning, and they live their lives like an adventure. Zest is a dynamic strength that is directly related to physical and psychological wellness. This strength has the strongest ties to overall life satisfaction and a life of engagement.

And I am zesty!

This morning was typical of most mornings in my life: I awoke full of anticipation for another new day.  I love mornings.  Morning is my favorite time of the day.  I love sunrises (and we get some humdingers over the Sangre de Cristo Mountain Range). 

Sunrise at 21 Chisholm today

I love breakfast.  It's my favorite meal of the day.  I make breakfast an adventure by choosing something different every day.  These days, the "put some weight on" order is allowing some crazy indulgences anyone would leap out of bed for!

Breakfast -- Bread Pudding from Dulce Bakery

I look forward to and love my morning workouts.  Right now it's just adding a few tenths of a mile to my walks -- but I am anxious to go a little further every day. 

Morning walk with Illy -- I'm up to 3.4 miles (yay!)

And you know, I don't wake up thinking about cancer.  I wake up anticipating the joy and adventure the day will bring whether in the mountains or at home.  I wake up greeted by two cold noses and one warm kiss.  I wake up with a smile -- too curious to stay in bed any longer because I just might miss something.

Who wants to half-step life when the opportunities are endless, the adventures bold and the smallest pleasures energizing and life affirming?  Not a zesty me.  Hello sunshine!

Quote of the Day:

How glorious a greeting the sun gives the mountains!

                                                            ~John Muir

 VIA FRANCIGENA, 2020!

Strengths

As a pack my gear for this unexpected journey, I'm taking inventory of my strengths and competencies.  Not of what I need, but of what I have, right now -- in this moment -- that will power my steps, one foot, one day at a time.

It's interesting to note that years ago, I would have spent a lot time worrying about what I needed to acquire or fix in order to succeed on such a journey (this would have been the same whether for school, work, sports or trekking).  These days, I like the idea of engaging fully with what I have experienced to be useful, empowering and life-affirming.  

So this business of packing (putting together what I need to succeed on this journey) got me thinking about my VIA character strengths.  As an executive coach and a student of positive psychology, over the course of nearly two decades I both have taken and used the VIA character strengths survey when working with clients. (https://www.viacharacter.org/account/register)  Check it out, it's free!

It seems at some time in all our lives, we may struggle to know our strengths (instead allowing (even for the briefest period) our attention-hog doubts and weaknesses to siphon our energy).  I know for sure that I have NO TIME for those showboating, kill-buzz nincompoops on this trip.  When we know our strengths, we can pull them forward with greater speed and efficiency than we ever can fix or acquire anew.  And they give us -- well strength, yes -- but also firm footing for beneficial progress.  So . . . 

SHOW ME THE STRENGTHS!

Reviewing my top five VIA character strengths (and they didn't change when I took the survey in 2007 and again in 2014) I was reminded of:  Hope. Honesty. Gratitude. Zest. Curiosity.  Recognizing and tapping into these strengths fortifies my resilience, powers my goals and boosts my optimism.   

And today, when I reached into my pack and felt around for gratitude; and there it was -- familiar, uplifting and motivating:

🙏Today I am grateful for walking 2.9 miles, gaining a pound and the gentle kindness of my trekking partner.  Now, that's a path I can move on!

Quote of the Day:

Acknowledging the good that you already have in your life is the foundation for all abundance.

                                                                                        ~Eckhart Tolle

 VIA FRANCIGENA, 2020!

Oh So Lucky!

O.K, so I know it may sound a little crazy to say I'm feeling lucky right now -- but really I am.  In our lives together (on any journey) Cliff and I have learned to make our luck by taking new paths, expecting great outcomes, listening to our instincts (even when a GPS may tilt our path in another direction), and by maintaining an attitude of resilience that can deliver joyful memories even on a rainy day. Here's how it works:

On Offa's Dyke (our latest long-distance adventure):

• We set off as we always do, full of excitement and curiosity, along a new path (it really didn't take that loop or two to get out of Sedbury to prove we were learning the route through our feet and experience).  We saw more -- and logged more miles.  How lucky were we?
• We expected a fun and demanding walk -- and as always, never made space for the notion of not reaching Prestatyn (at the end of ~200 miles) on our own two (four) feet.  We arrived happy and healthy after 14 walking days.  How lucky were we?
• We listened to our instincts more than once, whether encountering an unmarked intersection or traversing a field full of cattle.  Cliff to Donna, "Did you notice this entire field is full of only young bulls?"  Donna to Cliff, "Yiieeeee!"  We got neither lost nor gored.  How lucky were we?
• We packed our rain gear and cold weather layers each day -- ready for any eventuality.  And truly, the memory of hunkering down in a forest shielding our sandwiches from a steady rain with the bills of our hats is  unbelievably happy and vivid.  Oh the rain . . . how lucky were we? 
• How lucky we were each day to walk, see the wild ponies in the Black Mountains, sleep in a Tenth Century priory, meet amazingly kind and interesting people, share a chicken and leek pie, and sing 60s sitcom theme songs through giggles and gaffs as we headed home -- on and on the memories go. 
• This is in our nature. 

 On this unexpected journey:

• We walked all those miles across Wales, and this cancer didn't raise it's ugly head 'til we'd been home for ten days.  How lucky is that?
• I came back from the Offa's Dyke walk strengthened by a spontaneous decision to practice the Tibetan meditation on death as I walked (a decision I made about halfway through the walk).  Not at all morbid, this meditation is a reminder that at every moment, I am going to die (we all are) -- and in this moment I am aware, compassionate and present.  Deciding to use this meditation five times a day made a huge difference in how I experienced the walk -- and in my healthy mindset as I returned home.  Had this disease been diagnosed mid-April when I was mired in an unhappy job and looking only inward, I may have started this journey with a different mindset -- but it wasn't.  How lucky is that?
• Just 24 months ago, Santa Fe didn't have the depth of experience and capability that currently exists at our Regional Cancer Center.  Today, one of the world's leading experts in cancer research and medical oncology is the director of oncology at one of our local hospitals -- (the one where I was admitted in my emergency situation three weeks ago).  Today, that doctor is my oncologist, at our Regional Cancer Center in Santa Fe.  Did I mention he co-developed one of the leading drugs used in colon cancer treatment?  How lucky is that?
• In the world of colon cancers, some are more aggressive, more difficult to treat, more complex.  It seems I have the unexceptional (Cliff and I are calling it the "garden variety") colon cancer.  How lucky is that?
• One of the nation's most experienced and well-respected oncologic hepatic surgeons is just an hour away in Albuquerque.  He already has reviewed my case and if/when surgery is an option for me, will be my surgeon.  (Did I mention his great professional and personal relationship with my oncologist? ) How lucky is that?
• I am living in a place of supreme beauty and peacefulness.  I have here some of the best and deepest friendships of my lifetime.  I am surrounded by the positive and healing energy of pals living from coast to coast, and around the world.  That energy creates a healing space that is empowering and buoying.  How lucky am I?
•  So, yep, I'm feeling lucky.  It is my nature.

Progress update:

Since my last posting, I've gone through a slate of post-surgery appointments that affirmed I am healing exceptionally well, getting stronger every day and ready to head for the next pass on this journey.  The coming week is full of more appointments (further analyzing my cancer).  Then, on 5 September, I get my port (for chemo) and on 9 September, I start chemo.  I'll be on chemo therapy for six months (with or without a break for surgery to remove the mass on my liver -- more on that later).  My darling sister headed home to Florida today, but will be back for my first round of chemo in two weeks.  And hey, my doctor told me the first chemo therapy (which may be tweaked as we learn more about my cancer) won't cause me to lose my hair (lucky, huh?).

Quote of the day:

 Live as if you were to die tomorrow.  Learn as if you were to live forever.

                                                                                       ~Mahatma Gandhi

Proceeding along a new path after a rainy lunch along Offa's Dyke.  How lucky are we?

VIA FRANCIGENA, 2020!

Keep on Keepin' On

Day Seventeen (Since my cancer diagnosis)

Yesterday, while I read, napped, walked, danced with my sister and watched a movie, Cliff took on two major demo projects to get us ready for upcoming renovation work on a new pantry and a new laundry room.  For us, the day was meaningful, therapeutic and forward looking.

You see, when faced with my diagnosis, among the early conversations Cliff and I had regarded steps on how we deal with the immediate future:

• Who do we tell, when? Thank you, Cliff for making all those first phone calls.
• Who will help with the dogs? Thank you Craig, Martha and Lois.
• Where can I get the best care?  Sloan Kettering?  MD Anderson?  Mayo?  Something closer to home?  -- Still making that decision.
• And how about our big, already scheduled home renovation projects?

We quickly decided to keep pressing forward with our home projects.  We need them (if you ever visited our combined laundry/storage room, you understand).  We want them (they will harmonize form and function at our place).  And in some ways, these projects are a sort of metaphor for the unexpected journey: 

The projects: We are demolishing the inefficient parts of two rooms, parts that slow down our ability to get things done (old and cramped cabinetry, too small and limited function washer/dryer, etc.)  We are tracking renovation timelines and progress toward achieving our goals of increased functionality and improving the enduring quality of our existing structure.  We're excited and have a bright outlook of improvement!

Me: I already have begun to visualize the strength and power of the post-cancer me.  Since I walked 200 miles just before my diagnosis, how fast and far will I be able I go in the future?  It's an exciting prospect. Me: tougher, stronger and more powerful (an improvement on the existing structure 😉).  I can't wait!

Progress:  I'm walking over a mile each morning with my sister (approaching two miles at this point) -- recovering with speed and strength from my colon resection surgery.  I found out today that the oncological surgeon at UNM Comprehensive Cancer Center already has reviewed my case (still have to get that cancerous mass out of my liver), and says he wants to review my CT scan again after two months of chemo (that's a big yay -- no indication that surgery is too tricky to try to manage at UNM (and the surgeon has a fabulous CV and reputation)).  Saw my primary care doc today and the overall focus continues to be making sure I am as strong and prepared as possible before chemo starts.  Continued focus is on helping me to gain some weight (no worries, my sister, Deb, and hubby are on the case).  I have plenty of appetite, just can't manage too much food in any one sitting, so I am eating five mini meals a day (with scads of healthy fats).

Blog update: When I started this blog, I committed to including a cancer fact every day.  While on some days, I may include a relevant fact that informs and educates, I've decided not to do this regularly.  The facts to be mined from the medical community and national cancer organizations can be a little overwhelming.  The only night I couldn't sleep since coming home was after a visit to the Colon Cancer Alliance website, where there's an abundance of information on research, risk factors and survival rates.  At the end of the day, I can only be me -- not necessarily generalize-able to all or any of the information available.  As my pal Malissa pointed out: Even the survival rates don't organize information into any individual survivor's starting level of fitness . . ..  How do I begin to understand how the data may or may not apply to me?  I've decided not to try.

Quote of the day: 

I can hardly wait for tomorrow, it means a new life for me each and every day.

                                                                                             ~Stanley Kunitz

 

The sun rising on a new and beautiful day at 21 Chisholm Trail

VIA FRANCIGENA, 2020!

The Mind-Body Connection

As an endurance athlete, I long have tapped into the power of the mind-body connection to train (and execute) with increasing intensity, duration and discipline.  A good dose of self-efficacy, "I've done this, therefore I can do that," consistently has strengthened my ability to take on and succeed in the next greater challenge.  And now the "unexpected journey" is the next greater challenge.

My friends humorously are reminding me of what I've done, and how it can fuel my success on this journey:

• Chip texted that she's thinking chemo is nothing compared to high-altitude trekking in the very thin air in Bhutan and Tibet.  
• Malissa reminded me of my 30-day cold shower challenge (funny, I know, but it takes some steel to follow through on a thirty-day commitment to cold showers during a wet, cold spring in Pennsylvania).  
• And I have my IronMan self that says I can keep pushing.  Never has, "Pain in temporary, quitting is forever" been a more propelling thought.

So, with all that in my background, I suppose it is unsurprising that in completing health surveys, I continue rating my health status as EXCELLENT.  Know that I neither am delusional nor in denial.  I truly do continue to believe that my overall health and physical ability are very, very good.  And that faith in what this body has been able to do already is boosting my confidence in what this (strong and capable) body can do next: Survive cancer!  My backpack equally is packed with mind, body and spirit powers.  And I'm employing all three in the fight!

Process update:  Yesterday I had my first oncology appointment (and got my first opinion for treatment and prognosis) at the University of New Mexico Comprehensive Cancer Center in Albuquerque.  After the oncologist reviewed my current reports and laid out a possible treatment plan I asked, "Is this curable?"  Her answer was, "With surgery, yes."  Now, she didn't hand over a trekking map full of short cuts and easy ascents -- never my style anyway.  She laid out the risks, challenges and protocol quite clearly.  Still that response "yes" joined the strength of optimism and power of self-efficacy, which drive me.

Note: I know every cancer journey is different and difficult.  I am not espousing what I believe can work for everyone, nor marginalizing the determination of any other cancer patient (I refuse to say victim) -- especially those with certain cancers known to be less survivable (my father-in-law died of advance-stage pancreatic cancer).  Rather I am talking what I know about me and my diagnosis and packing my back pack and grabbing my poles mid-ascent to best equip myself to navigate and overcome the odds on this unexpected journey.

Cancer fact:

Cancer patients with high self-efficacy have higher intentions to quit smoking, participate in screening programs more frequently, and adjust to their diagnosis better than those with low self-efficacy (Lev, 1997). Further, they are more likely to adhere to treatment, take care of themselves, and experience fewer and less severe physical and psychological symptoms (Lev, 1997).

                                                                    Courtney Ackerman, 05-29-2018
                                                                    https://positivepsychology.com/self-efficacy/
                      
Quote of the day:

“People's beliefs about their abilities have a profound effect on those abilities. Ability is not a fixed property; there is a huge variability in how you perform. People who have a sense of self-efficacy bounce back from failure; they approach things in terms of how to handle them rather than worrying about what can go wrong.”

                                                                   ~Albert Bandura (the "father" of self-efficacy theory)

Donna Boltz, You are an IronMan!

Via Francigena, 2020!

Rituals

Day Eleven (Since my cancer diagnosis) 

When I was a second lieutenant in Schweinfurt, Germany back in the 1980s, I scrawled a Michael LeBouf quote on the inside cover of my platoon leader's notebook: "Waste your money and you're only out of money, but waste your time and you've lost a piece of your life." 

Waste your money and you're only out of money, but waste your time and you've lost a part of your life.

Read more at https://www.brainyquote.com/quotes/michael_leboeuf_104467

Waste your money and you're only out of money, but waste your time and you've lost a part of your life.

Read more at https://www.brainyquote.com/quotes/michael_leboeuf_10446

And I suppose that commitment to not wasting time (or losing any piece of my life) subsequently contributed to my love of rituals -- versus routine.

Vietnamese Buddhist Monk, Thich Nhat Hanh, explains simply that ritual is taking action with purpose and presence.  Hanh notes that a person can be preoccupied in routine and lose presence (wasting time (my words)), or choose to be fully present and aware -- living all life's pieces, in the moment.  Even among otherwise mundane actions like turning on a computer, washing dishes, or greeting someone (ever automatically inquire, "How are you?" without really giving a damn?), acts can become rituals when executed with awareness and presence. 

To be present in the moment (as on this journey) means being sucked neither into thoughts of the future (what next?) nor of the past (why?).  On this journey, I am concentrating on staying in the moment (and living each day fully).  I find it energizing to be aware and present for this oh-so-wonderful life.

Before my sister traveled to be with us (she arrived yesterday) I told her that there are two rituals I want to observe on this unexpected journey: 

• First, I want always to have and appreciate fresh flowers in our home -- Every. Single. Day.
• Second, I want to dance -- Every. Single. Day.

Last night, a dear friend brought us roses (along with a gourmet meal) and this morning, I danced with my sister.  In the rituals of appreciating the flowers and dancing with my sister, I find my feet firmly on the path -- fully engaged, venturing forward in the only way practically possible: One step at a time.  I am stronger every day post-surgery -- and while I'm not walking mile-upon-mile yet, I can manage the quarter mile from our front door to our mailbox and back each morning.

Together, Cliff and I are moving forward with presence and purpose.  We know fear and doubt wallow in the shadows of the past and the haze of the future, ready to waste one's time.  Presence gives these two murky characters no quarter, nor shall we!  We are living life in all its pieces.

Colon cancer fact:

Often, those who are diagnosed with colon cancer have experienced no signs or symptoms associated with the disease.                                                                                          ~Colon Cancer Coalition                   

 Quote of the day:

No time is wasted.  ~ Cantus Fraggle 

 

Dancing with my sister

Via Francigena 2020!

The Unexpected Journey

For twenty years, TeamBoltz has researched, planned, trained for, and executed some of the world's most challenging treks (to include):

• Crossing the Gosaikund in Nepal,
• Summiting Kilamanjaro,
• Trekking the unknown Choquequirao in Peru,
• Circling the Torres de Paine in Patagonia,
• Tackling the Haute Route from Chamonix to Zermatt,
• Conquering the 216 miles and eleven, 15,000+ foot passes of Bhutan's Snowman Trek,
• Crossing England; first Coast-to-Coast (Wainwright's walk) and later along its spine (Pennine Way),
• Realizing the amazing, magical, indescribable magnificence of Tibet along Heinrich Harrer's historic high-altitude escape route to Shan-gri-la (Lhasa), and most recently;
• Traversing the length of Offa's Dyke (Coast-to-Coast / S-N) in Wales, in one stretch.   

This next series of blog entries was, in fact, meant to cover Offa's Dyke.  That is, until we launched on the Unexpected Journey Friday night, a week ago . . .

. . . the night of 2 August was a long and sleepless one for me.  Agonizing pain in my abdomen left me with no way comfortably to position myself for rest.  Finally, at 2:00 a.m., I called our insurance-affiliated, nurse consult line to describe my symptoms and get advice.  This was the worst pain I ever had experienced -- agonizing twisting and stabbing in my gut.  Truly a 10 out of 10 on the pain scale.  

The nurse's questions seemed to focus on a cardiac event.  Did I have pain in my chest?  Was I nauseous?  Did I have cold sweats?  Her eventual advice was to wait until urgent care opened and go there.  For the next seven hours, I alternately wandered the house, and tossed and turned in pain 'til the sun rose.   

From urgent care, I was sent to the emergency room with extreme hypotension, intense abdominal pain and increasing weakness . . .

And nearly ten years after I became on IronMan, a year after TeamBoltz crossed an 18,000' pass in remote Tibet, and fewer than eleven days off Offa's Dyke (196 miles), our next challenge began to materialize: Stage 4 colon cancer.

What does a trekking team do when they discover themselves far advanced along what may be the most difficult trek of their lives with no prior research, no planning and no event-specific training?  We execute.  Without looking back, questioning why (or why me), we wholly open ourselves to the present experience, assess the situation, increase awareness of our new environment and go forward from the only point so far charted on this journey: the here and now.

⇒Why would I choose to blog this very personal journey?

1. For self-accountability and self-efficacy.
2. With the acknowledgement that it is a way to keep family and friends informed (without keeping the onus of that mission on Cliff alone).
3. On the chance that my experience somehow may serve another being who finds him- or herself on a similar path. 

⇒ And why blog it here, on the "We'd Rather Be Walking" pages?

• Because we truly would RATHER BE WALKING.  In fact, really we'd rather be doing almost anything else.  But this is where our feet have landed this time. 

Each blog entry, I plan to include a colon cancer fact (part of increasing my own education in a
safe space where honesty, reflection, connection and affirmation build ballast). 

Since the mid-1980s, the colorectal cancer survival rate has been increasing, due in part to increased awareness and screening. By finding polyps and cancer in the earlier stages, it is easiest to treat. Improved treatment options have also contributed to a rise in survival rates.

Survival Rates

• The five-year survival rate for colorectal cancer found at the local stage is 90%.
• The five-year survival rate for colorectal cancer found at the regional stage is 71%.
• The five-year survival rate for colorectal cancer found at the distant stage is 14%.

There are currently more than one million colorectal cancer survivors alive in the US.

                                                              Source: Website, The Colorectal Cancer Alliance
                                                              https://www.ccalliance.org/colorectal-cancer-information

Each blog entry, I plan to include an inspirational quote, starting with my true north Emerson quote: "Make the most of yourself for that is all there is of you."  I know, strangely redolent of the US Army's old, "Be all you can be," slogan .  . ..  To me it says: Tap into every resource within one's being to learn, grow, succeed, flourish, thrive (and survive).

And I'll always sign off with, "Via Francigena, 2020!"  That is, after all, the next TeamBoltz trek:  A 1,300-mile pilgrimage from Canterbury England to Rome, which we'll start in 2020.  I hope when you think of us, that you'll send us a "Via Francigena!" blast of best energy (and consider joining us for a leg next year).

Completing Offa's Dyke on the Irish Sea, Prestatyn, Wales (22 July 2019)

Finally, consider this: I apparently completed a 196-mile walk (quite a strenuous one even by Cliff's accounting) with Stage 4 colon cancer.  Any doubt I'm gonna crush this?

Via Francigena, 2020!