We'd Rather Be Walking: Waking Up On A Glacier . . . at 18,500'

Top of Kilimanjaro, 2006

Through the years (and many treks) we have found that high altitude uniquely (with its crystal clear, near-forever views and profound quiet) can hush our inner-voices, and open our awareness in ways unique to the eminence. We also have reached, on some climbs, that extreme elevation mark where the air thins to a deprived soup, and malaise begins to curl her reptilian claws along the seam between land and sky. And just when it seems we'll hardly find the energy to break camp, we steer gratefully back to an oxygen-rich level -- the challenge having revived and steeled us for the next climb.

In the summer 2006, while on terminal leave from the army (as our actual retirement day approached), TeamBoltz embarked upon our first guided trek: To Summit Mount Kilimanjaro. In Arusha, Tanzania, we joined nine other trekkers and soon headed east . . . to "De Mowntain". The trek was not our first high altitude adventure (we naively had managed to stumble into that in Nepal in 1999) -- and it certainly was not our last; however, it remains to this day our greatest elevation achievement (though shortest actual time spent at peak elevation among high-altitude treks).

(July 2006) . . . Coming down from Uhuru Peak at 19,341 feet was a rush. We'd made it! We'd summitted the highest freestanding mountain in the world. Well-trained and conditioned, we found our approach exhilarating and fun. Waking up in a glacial crater camp fewer than 1,000' below the summit the following morning was . . . not quite so exhilarating, and really not so fun. After a restless night when just turning over in our sleeping bags left us breathless, we were eager to leave the brain-fogging, nauseating heights in the shadow of our objective. It was with relief and increasingly greater gulps of thickening air (and some childlike hooting and laughter) that we charged down a scree-field, notwithstanding over-the-shoulders glimpses of "Kili"

(March 2020 -- 224 days since my diagnosis) This weekend, as I emerged from my second week of my post-surgery, adjuvant chemo therapy, I felt like I relived that transitional morning on the Roof of Africa. Turns out, resuming chemo three weeks after a liver resection makes for a pretty steep climb. While descending the heights of chemo happens not as rapidly as hiking/running/sliding down a scree field (with no real comparison to the jubilance), the start point feels startlingly similar (no doubt why I woke from a crater camp dream on Saturday morning). Coming off another week of intense nausea and lassitude was a welcome relief . . . once I got away from that darned 18,500' glacier!

Out walking yesterday with Cliff, Illy and Munro

So today you catch me cruising into Week Two of Chemo Cycle Eleven. The welcome respite of clearheaded breathing as the path extends before me is awesome. And best of all, there by my side is my intrepid trekking partner (now of 40+ years) and my pups, of course! How blessed am I? The unexpected journey continues to unfold before us with each life-affirming step.

(Years ago, when I finished my first marathon and pointedly described it as my last, a marathon veteran assured me I'd be back. He was so right. Whether he saw something innate in my being, or it was a predictable pattern for first-time marathoners, I'll never know. I do know that I have a keen knack for heading into challenge after challenge. I love the fight. I love the recovery. And I'm always heady with enthusiasm to begin again. Today, I suspect that way of being is part of what is saving my life.)

Quote of the Day:

“On the other side of a storm is the strength that comes from having navigated through it. Raise your sail and begin.”

~Gregory S. Williams

Progress:

This is colon cancer awareness month.: Wear blue. The "blue crew" below: My hero sister and her husband, Greg; Cliff and me (first time I'd worn jeans in 218 days (belly getting back to normal)); super pals Joshua and Malissa, trekking wunderkind, Beth; and the world's best roommate/pal forever Chip, with her son, Kenny

Attach navy ribbon to your lapel.
Share some colon cancer facts (140,000+ Americans will be diagnosed with colon cancer this year, it is the second cause of cancer death among cancers that strike both men and women)
Share my story.
Together, we can save a life.