Back on the dragon boat: The return of the Mighty Woman!

The Mighty Women on the Willamette River.
I'm in the back of the boat, port (left) side  and waving my paddle
with my bench partner, Joan Sanford, who encouraged me with every stroke.

This morning, I became a Mighty Woman again.

Seven months after crushing both my wrists in an ATV accident, I climbed back into a dragon boat with my team mates and paddled the Willamette River on a sunny Saturday morning. It felt glorious. Empowering. The river sparkled. I am quite sure I was glowing. And it felt as if I'd come full circle.

The last time I paddled a dragon boat was a Thursday night, Sept. 3. That night our paddling practice seemed magical. It happened to be the night of the Oregon Symphony's annual Waterfront Concert at Tom McCall Waterfront Park overlooking the Willamette River. So as Coach Jeanie Zinn led us through grueling race starts to prepare for races just a week away, we were serenaded by the symphony playing Mozart and Bach and had an audience of almost 20,000 spectators.

After our practice, I had lingered at the park so I could enjoy a free classical concert under the stars. Gripping my paddle, I ordered a slice of pizza from a vendor and struck up a conversation with a couple visiting from Australia. They asked many questions about dragon boating. I told them the sport had changed my life--and that I was a Mighty Woman. I saw the way they looked at me--as if I was a strong, adventurous woman. It was a night I'll always remember.

Less than 48 hours later, I was flying over an ATV's handlebars, somersaulting through the air and slamming to the ground. I recall gingerly sitting up and noticing the ATV had crashed just a foot from my body. And then I felt pain. That's also a day I'll never forget.

In the days, weeks and months that followed my accident, I did not feel strong, adventurous, or mighty. With both arms in casts and unable to do much of anything for myself, I felt people looking at me, sizing up my broken body, and feeling pity for me. But with grit and the help of many family members, friends, and medical professionals, I healed.

A few days ago, I went to my last physical therapy appointment. Carol, my therapist, had cheered me on for months. I had brought my paddle to my last session so that she could see the movement of my body when I held my paddle. She hugged me.

"I release you from therapy," she said. "But keep doing your exercises on your own. And please be careful in the dragon boat. Don't push yourself. If it hurts, stop."

When I told my newsroom colleagues I was going to try dragon boating again, many looked concerned. "Be careful," several people told me. "Don't push yourself."

I texted my coach and told her I planned to join the team on the boat Saturday morning, but I was concerned that I may not have the strength to hold onto my paddle to keep up with the team. She was excited I was coming back to the boat.

"Just do your best. Paddle ten strokes and rest ten strokes," she advised me.

I met my friend, Patty for dinner and told her the good news that I'd had my last therapy appointment. That first week after my accident when I needed so much help, Patty had been my caregiver. During the four months I couldn't drive, she drove me to countless doctor appointments and cheered me on.

When I told her I was going to try paddling the next morning, she again cheered me on: "Go, Mighty Woman!"

I smiled. And I hoped I'd have the range of motion and strength to paddle again. I really missed being a Mighty Woman.

Last night I was so excited that I placed my paddle and life jacket by my front door. This morning I awoke early. Too excited to stay in bed any longer, I ate breakfast and dressed quickly in my paddling clothes.

Before I left for practice, I texted the Mountain Man: "Excited but nervous about getting on dragon boat."

Knowing how competitive I am, he texted back: "You can do this. Just go as far as you think you should. Don't let competition or peer pressure make you go too far."

When I arrived at the waterfront, I was greeted with cheers, hugs, and smiles from my team mates. We did our warm-up exercises, then walked down to the dock, and climbed into the boat.

Coach Jeanie placed me on bench ten, the rear bench, with Joan, who also is recovering from an injury and surgery. Both Jeanie and Joan encouraged me to pay attention to what my body was telling me.

Would it hurt? Would I injure myself? Would I fail miserably and have to give up dragon boat paddling and the camaraderie of the Mighty Women? I hoped not. That thought has hounded me all these months as I've been doing physical therapy and recovering.

My first stroke was tentative--and wimpy. At first, I did paddle ten strokes, rest ten, and then paddle ten more. But toward the end of practice, as we raced from under the Marquam Bridge and back to the dock, I paddled with each stroke with every ounce of strength I had left. I did it!

The sun was shining as we pulled up to the dock. I was sitting on starboard side, so grabbed the dock while Shane, our tiller, secured our boat. The dock was busy with activity. Many paddlers from other teams were finding their way to their dragon boats.

A man holding the hand of a very tiny preschool girl walked slowly past us. I looked at them, smiled, and said: "You should come paddle with us sometime. We're the Mighty Women!"

The little girl smiled shyly at me. I grinned back.

The morning was golden. I am a Mighty Woman again. And I'm still smiling.

Starting the new year with an attitude of gratitude

Once my arms heal, I'll be back on the trail!

I love early January when we start a new year  brimming with possibilities. I'm starting 2016 with an attitude of gratitude, despite the hardships I've faced in the past five years:

• I got divorced at age 50
• I was laid off at work during the Recession when jobs were scarce and was unemployed for some months
• I had to sell my house in the worst real estate market in decades
• I quickly downsized from 2,400 to 600 square feet--and gave away most of my possessions
• I moved five times in two years because rentals are so expensive
• I lived for three months in a backyard shed with no heat, water or toilet (because I needed to save money for car repairs)
• I broke both wrists in an ATV accident, needed two surgeries, missed three months of work and incurred lots of medical bills

Some people might shake their heads and ask me: "Are you crazy? How can you be grateful after so many hard things?

My answer is: "How can I be anything but grateful? Isn't gratitude a better response than being depressed, angry, and wallowing in despair and misery?"

The biggest lesson I've learned through hardship is that the only thing I can control is my attitude. I can either brush myself off and be grateful, or I can become a sour, unhappy person. I choose gratitude and joy.

I have myriad reasons to be grateful. Among them:

• I reinvented myself at age 50. I joined a dragon boat team and found the joyful, adventurous woman inside of me. 
• At age 52 I started a new career as a newspaper reporter. I enjoy my work, and I've become a much better writer.
• I lost 40 pounds and have kept it off for four years. Once I get my last cast removed, I'll lose another 30 pounds.
• For more than two years, I've rented the 600 square-foot mother-in-law suite in the home of dear friends. At last, I am home. 
• After giving away so many possessions, I'm content with my lifestyle of simplicity and finding joy in simple pleasures.
• After living without heat, water, a kitchen--and especially a bathroom--I am grateful that on this snowy day, I don't have to walk outside 37 steps to the facilities.
• After my ATV accident, I am grateful for life itself. I am alive and planning great adventures in the coming year.

When hard things come your way--and they come to us all eventually--will you wallow in despair or will you adopt an attitude of gratitude? It's your choice.

5 reasons for gratitude after my accident

It's been three months since I crushed both wrists in an ATV accident. After two surgeries, multiple casts, dozens of x-rays and hours of physical therapy, I am on the mend. Here are five reasons I am grateful.

1. I am grateful my disability is temporary. I was not crushed by the ATV. I could be dead, paralyzed or have a brain injury. Soon I will be free of casts, splints and pain.

2. I am grateful for my job as a newspaper reporter at The Columbian. After 11 weeks on disability, I returned to work part time before Thanksgiving. Last week I returned full time. I am typing with a cast on my left hand, so it's a clumsy, slow process. It's challenging to write under deadline pressure, but I'm doing it. The people at work have been welcoming and supportive. I am riding to schools with our photographers because I still can't drive. The Mountain Man even crafted a leather strap that fits over my cast and holds my reporter's notebook when I.m out on assignment.

3. I am grateful for my medical insurance through my job. The most recent medical statement totaled services rendered so far as almost equal to my annual income. Thankfully, that's not what I have to pay.

4. I am grateful for people willing to help me. A long list of co-workers, friends and family have been driving me to my doctor appointments, to work, to get groceries and run other errands. I am grateful for friends who have picked me up and taken me to their home for dinner or out to eat. Three months without driving has meant way too much time home alone. It's a treat to be among people again.

5. I am grateful for the progress I am making each day. In the first few weeks, I needed help with eating, dressing, washing my hair, opening doors, putting on a seat belt, turning the water faucet on and off, cutting my food and so much more. I live alone, so it's been crucial for me to regain use of my arms/wrists/hands so I can take care of myself.

Three months later, I am still not driving, but I prepare my meals, do my laundry and take care of myself. This week I opened a zip-loc baggy with my right hand--instead of with my teeth! With my shorter, below-elbow cast, I can put my arm into the sleeve of my winter coat, Today I zipped a zipper on my vest. Perhaps I'll be able to wear dress slacks and jeans again soon instead of elastic-waist pants. Progress!

I appreciate everything now. May I never again take the little things in life for granted.

Although I don't get a ski season this year, I plan to be back on the dragon boat next spring paddling with the Mighty Women. Two broken wrists are a temporary setback. I can't wait for my next adventure.

Getting my arms back after my accident: Things I can't wait to do

Eight weeks ago, I somersaulted over the handlebars of an all-terrain vehicle and broke both my wrists. For the past two months, I've had casts and/or splints on both arms, which has kept me home from work and seriously cramped my adventurous spirit.

Here are some things I can't wait to do when I finally regain the full use of my arms and hands:

1. Paddling a dragon boat with the Mighty Women.

2. Playing my djembe drum again--especially around a campfire.

 

3. Hiking and backpacking adventures.

4. Alpine skiing! I took my first solo runs last winter, and hoped to improve this year. My orthopedic doctor gently suggested skiing might have to wait a year. But maybe x-country skiing or snow shoeing?

5. Paddling kayaks and canoes.

 

6. Regaining my arm strength to shoot my bow.

 

7. Riding a zip line with my daughter, Kate. We had a blast zipping last summer.

8. Spelunking! Looking forward to exploring more caves.

9. Dancing! I'm itching to get back to country swing, contra dancing with pal Brenda Cartino and take another belly dancing lesson with girlfriends.

   

10. Driving--and be independent! I miss taking solo trips to have adventures in the mountains, on rivers, to the beach. It is hard for a woman who is paddling her own canoe to be dependent on others for transportation.

11. Manipulating zippers and buttons so I can wear jeans, shirts with sleeves, coats, jackets and sweaters. And lace-up shoes rather than slip-ons. This week with cooler weather and rain, I bought a cape at Goodwill. Flamboyant? Yes. Practical? Absolutely. I can't get my cast in coat sleeves.

12. I can't believe the tomboy in me is putting this on my list, but here goes:Giving myself pedicures so I feel pretty and pampered. Wear earrings and necklaces. Wear a little make up again once in awhile. Make a pony tail in my hair.

!3. Working! Type with both hands. Write quickly--and drive to schools all over Clark County to write stories. I miss my newsroom peeps! I typed this post with one hand--and it took far too long.

Keeping a positive attitude even in hard times

My two broken wrists have slowed me down temporarily, but I have so many reasons to be grateful.

Over Labor Day weekend, I was having a blast riding four-wheelers with the Mountain Man until I flew over the handlebars, somersaulted through the air, and crashed to the ground. I crushed both of my wrists. Eventually, I required surgery in both wrists to install permanent titanium plates and screws to repair my shattered bones. Now I am the bionic woman.

Sometimes bad things happen. That's life. What I've learned in the past seven weeks since my accident is the importance in keeping a positive attitude. It's vital in my healing process and in keeping my spirits up.

Since the beginning of the year, I've written in my gratitude journal. Every morning, I write at least three reasons to be grateful. For five weeks after the accident, I couldn't hold a pen. I couldn't write at all. That was devastating. I am a writer, a newspaper reporter, a storyteller, and a long-time journaler. Writing my thoughts is how I make sense of the world. Not only could I not hold a pen, but I couldn't type either.

Although I still have a cast on my left hand, now I can type with my right hand. My one-handed typing combined with voice recognition software has allowed me to start typing again--albeit very slowly, Even sweeter, I can grip a pen in my right hand for short periods of time. I'm writing in my gratitude journal again. Yes!

Here are some of my reasons I am grateful:

1. I am alive, and with physical therapy, I am improving daily. I could have been paralyzed or killed.

2. It's true that I've hung up my dragon boat paddle until spring and likely will not be recovered enough to ski this winter, but I'll be back. I am not going to let my accident stop me from having future adventures.

3. Seven weeks ago, I could not turn a door knob. Now I can twist a doorknob without pain. I am no longer trapped and can stay at home without a caretaker.

4. After the accident, I couldn't lift a coffee cup or glass. I had to lean over the cup on the table and drink with a straw. This morning I made my own coffee and lifted a ceramic mug to my lips. No more straws!

5. For a few weeks after the accident, I could not hold silverware. I had the table manners of a Neanderthal. This week I cut steak with my knife. Last night with the Mountain Man I ate sushi with chopsticks! I was messy, but I wasn't thrown out of the restaurant for spilling a little rice.

6. During the first week after the accident, both arms had casts that reached clear up my hands and allowed only an inch of fingertips free. In the bathroom, I had to tear off toilet paper with my teeth. Now although I still have a cast on my left hand, my right hand is in a removable splint. Now I am fully operational in the bathroom. Enough said!

7. For six weeks, I couldn't wash my hair myself, but had to rely on friends, my daughter and my mom to wash it in the sink. Last week, I washed my hair all by myself!

8. For the first several weeks, I didn't have the stamina to stand in the shower. Instead, my caregiver wrapped both my arms in plastic bags and I took baths, but I needed help turning the water on and off and pulling the plug. Since last week, I've been taking a shower. And I can turn the water on and off all by myself.

9. For about a month, I couldn't open or close a car door or buckle my seat belt. Now I can do those things. However, it will still be some weeks before I am cleared to drive. I miss driving.

10. For about a month, I needed help getting dressed. Now I can dress myself, but I am living in elastic-waist exercise pants and free-flowing hippie skirts with leggings. I still can't manipulate zippers or buttons. I am looking forward to wearing jeans again.

11. Until recently, I needed lots of help preparing meals, opening food containers, and washing the dishes. Now I am doing my own simple cooking and can even wash dishes--while wearing my plastic bag over my cast.

12. I am grateful for the long list of family, friends and co-workers who have pitched in to help me through these weeks of healing.

Tomorrow I begin my eighth week of being on short-term disability from work. I am hopeful that my doctor will clear me to return to work soon.

Each day is a gift to be cherished and lived to the fullest. I know that now more than ever. What would you write in your gratitude journal?

Life's little setbacks

This morning, my dragon boating teammates are driving to Vancouver, British Columbia, taking a ferry to Nanaimo on Vancouver Island. They will be paddling in the Nanaimo Dragon Boat Festival this weekend. They'll be staying in the Painted Turtle Guesthouse, a renovated heritage hostel near the waterfront in quaint, downtown Nanaimo.

They'll be hosted by a friendly, fun-loving Canadian dragon boat team. There will be music, dancing and merriment after the races.

For months, I've been anticipating this mini-vacation to Nanaimo. Despite its relative proximity to home, I've never been to Vancouver Island. But alas! It wasn't meant to be.

Although my teammates have left, I am lying on my couch icing my leg and nursing an injured hamstring. Disappointment does not begin to convey my feelings.

But that's life, isn't it? As Mick Jagger and the Stones said, you don't always get what you want. In fact, we often get the opposite of what we wanted.

Was I injured dragon boating?  Skating in roller derby? Backpacking? Kayaking? Running a marathon? Running with the bulls? Sadly, no.

I wish I had an amazing, adventurous story about my injury, but here's the truth: I was climbing up onto the running board of a very, very, very high pickup truck. It was a long stretch for my short hobbit legs. Immediately, I knew I'd pulled something. I've been icing my hamstring and hobbling around like an old lady ever since.

Through the trials and tribulations of the past five years, I've learned a thing or two. First, life rarely happens exactly as we plan it. Second, the secret to living joyfully is learning to go with the flow and to appreciate the simple things when the current takes you someplace unexpected.

This weekend my unexpected adventure will be relaxing, icing my hamstring, reading a good book and savoring the juicy blackberries outside my front door.

And even from my couch, I'll be cheering for the Mighty Women as they paddle in Nanaimo.

Living small: Cutting through the clutter

So many books, so little time!

After spending $5 to buy five books at the library's book sale last week, I am now faced with tough choices. Because I live in 600 square feet, I have one self-imposed rule: one new item into the house means one old item from the same category must find a new home. The naked truth: It's time to let go of five old books.

When you live small, too much stuff quickly overwhelms your space. I don't have to look more than three feet from where I sit typing these words to see an example of needing to find space for something new. My lovely flaming dragon roller skates from my fresh meat roller derby tryouts a week ago are still sitting jauntily on the living room floor because I do not have a space to put them. I need to let go of another pair of shoes in my closet to make room for my gorgeous purple dragons.


I am proud of myself for limiting my purchase to only five books when other bibliophiles were filling boxes with books. I'm looking forward to immersing myself in my new book-friends including "The Sea Runners" by Ivan Doig, "Reservation Blues" by Sherman Alexie and "The American Indians: The Woman's Way" by Time-Life Books, which is filled with photos, artwork and stories about Native American women.

A Quaker friend, Wess Daniels, coined my downsizing of December 2011 as my "involuntary simplicity." He was right. That exercise was the antithesis of mindful simplicity. Circumstances beyond my control (being laid off without warning and having two months to sell my house at the real estate market's lowest point and move into 600 square feet) forced me to rid myself of more than half of my possessions in six weeks. It was a painful, but necessary step in my journey.

The process of prioritizing a lifetime of possessions changed me forever. I can't go back to being the woman who held so tightly to things that I missed out on the joy of experiences. When you live in a three-story 2,400-square-foot house with three humungous attics, a basement, a garage and a storage shed, opportunities abound to collect "stuff and junk" as my Grandma Lydia called it. I was the Estate Sale Queen and was always hauling home new treasures.


Now, five moves later, I am the Queen of Downsizing. I practice voluntary simplicity. Friends have invited me into their homes to help them organize their basements and closets and to determine what stuff to let go. It's much easier to help others get rid of their possessions because I have no emotional attachment to their stuff.

But here in my cozy, small living room/study/dining room, it is time to make tough choices. I know I can do it. Six months ago, my adventurous friends Kalyn and Mat MacDonald emptied their house and moved to Alaska. I chose 12 books from their library, which meant I had to let go of a dozen of my books to make space for them.

Now I must do it again. Am I ready to let go of "The Secret Life of Bees" by Sue Monk Kidd or "People of the Book" by Geraldine Brooks? They are among my favorites, but will I read them or refer to them again? I know I am not ready to get rid of my childhood copy of "Trixie Belden," the adventurous, mystery-solving, horseback-riding tomboy who inspired me in my geeky youth. I already let go of a dozen other Trixie Belden books in my big purge. Is it time to release "A Thousand Splendid Suns" by Khaled Hosseini? Decisions, decisions.

Although my too-many-books dilemma does not possess the life-and-death gravity of Sophie's choice or of Indiana Jones choosing the holy grail, it's still been painful to choose which five books I'm going to let go into the universe.

As I stare at my bookshelves, I hear the voice of the old grail knight: "Choose wisely."