Jill's Blog#6- Staying on Track

Yikes…It’s been a week since I last worked on moving my bike trip forward. I’ve been trying to juggle a big house renovation, family, and work responsibilities, but feel like I’m falling behind. I’ve tried to take control by micro-managing the family- a nonproductive use of time. An overwhelming feeling took hold thinking about what pieces for the bike trip need to be put into place. Then I start to count all of the barriers which will prevent me from moving forward. How will I figure out how to link my bike route to the Prouty site and my blog so people can see it? How do I negotiate the computer program to put the final details onto the bike route? How will I coordinate family and friends participating on the trip? Will I have enough support to make it happen? I want to crawl into my shell and make it go away.

Then I tell myself, "Whoa, what are you doing?” I drag out my bike trip goals to read. One is in particular is blaring at me. It states, “Model to my children my process in healing my mind, body and soul, including embracing challenges getting there.” One of my biggest challenges is the barriers I put in front of myself. They’re a huge distraction. I think of the mantras I tell my children, (which little do they know is more for me). Just do it, one day at a time, little by little, instead of making excuses why I can’t do it. So here I am, working on my 6th blog, getting back on track.

I reflect on the process that has already unfolded to make this bike trip happen. I’ve made connections with family and friends. It feels affirming. I’ve worked through the challenges of working on the computer to set up a blog and use a clunky computer program to create a bike route.

Last week I went to my sister’s house for several days to work on the bike trip. My plan was to make a few revisions on the computer bike route and then link together the Prouty site, bike route and blog. Best laid plans…we couldn’t figure out how to revise the map for the bike route, so for two days until late at night we slogged through remapping the route, but ultimately made new revisions with much better results. It made me realize that maybe I’m not quite as much of a Luddite as I thought because my sister had as much difficulty as I did negotiating the mapping program. In the process we began to figure out lodging logistics and revisited my trip goals to make sure I was on track. It touched me deeply that she too believes in my dream enough that she took time from work to make it happen. It also reaffirmed to me that to reach the most challenging goals that it takes deliberate work, flexibility, and persistence a day at a time; and as importantly, to celebrate the small accomplishments along the way to keep myself motivated.

Wow…an hour ago I was feeling overwhelmed after a number of days fretting about what I needed to do. Now I’m feeling grounded, knowing I’m back on track. Typically Todd helps me talk through these overwhelmed feelings, but today I did it with an hour of blogging.

Yeah, I’m just doing it, making my time count with deliberate work, and facing the challenges as they come instead of letting them become barriers. Later in the day I’ll revise the short Colorado leg of the bike trip and maybe will figure out how to link the sites. It feels good to be back on track.

Jill's Blog #5-Breasts are a Cultural Phenomenon

I remember when I was twelve years old with the physical attributes of a 16 year, and emotional maturity of a ten year old. I mourned over the loss of playground recess; one of the rites of passage of seventh graders. I would have given anything to be tearing around outside playing tag. (Throughout elementary school, recess was my favorite subject).

I distinctly remember pouring into a white cotton slip with a tiered full skirt. The excess material in the slip skirt bunched up under many of my dresses, but I thought it was worth it since the bodice flattened my breasts. The last thing I wanted was to draw attention to them. I remember my mom dragging me to the store to buy my first bra. I was totally embarrassed having to go into the dressing room to try it on. Breasts represented to me a loss of my childhood play and emotional territories I wasn’t yet ready to venture into.

After I graduated from college I headed to the Central African Republic with the Peace Corps. During our orientation, we were instructed on the importance of being sensitive to the cultural norms regarding dress. In the C.A.R. it was generally taboo for women to expose their legs. Even wearing pants, was considered exposure of the legs. I had to wear pants to ride my motorcycle to remote villages, but people made exceptions for me since I was Mungu (white). Interestingly, from the waist up, it was optional if women wore anything. During the child bearing years, many women were shirtless for easy breast-feeding of their infants. There was nothing taboo or forbidden about breasts. They were simply utilitarian food machines.

Fast forward ten years…I decided to breast feed Bryce, our first child. After some trials and tribulations getting started, I found it to be one of the more pleasant experiences I’ve had. While breast feeding, I was immersed in the moment and intimately connecting with my child. But, I also remember feeling ambivalent in my physical relationship with Todd, like I had to disassociate my maternal and sexual connection to my breasts. It makes me wonder if culturally, breasts became sexualized when many women stopped breast feeding and turned to bottle feeding.

Over the years, my breasts have been at the center of some very intense feelings. From rejection, acceptance, pleasure, nurturance, ambivalence, to a feeling of loss. It amazes me how this component of my anatomy has transcended my life experiences.

Jill's Blog #4-Facing Fear

I had an initial feeling of accomplishment figuring out how to post a blog, which then morphed into anxiety. My immediate impulse was to erase them. For the first time, I exposed my guarded secrets. What if people couldn’t understand what I was trying to express? What if they couldn’t relate to them, which was one of my motivations for posting them? What if instead of relating, friends and family felt pity reading the blogs? What if instead of a stronger connection, it made them feel awkward? I can empathize with the angst teenagers feel, wanting to feel like they fit in and connect with their tribe, wanting to reach out, but not sure how to…

So I’ve suppressed pushing the delete buttons to erase the blogs. Todd, (my rock), encouraged me to keep writing about my feelings and down the road I’d find my inner voice; to keep writing for introspection, staying true to my authentic self. He encouraged me to not worry about people’s reaction, as it’ll vary greatly, depending on where their coming from.

I suspect if I took a poll, people would say that I don’t live with fear and that perhaps I’m even fearless when they look at my adventuresome past. I’ve been a Sherpa for friends climbing Mt. Denali; trekked the Himalayas; volunteered with Frontier Nursing Service in Appalachian Kentucky for two summers; travelled the world on a shoe-string; been in the Peace Corps in Africa; biked across the country; and embarked on a biking trip in New Zealand/Australia with our 6 week old infant. Many of the trips have included friends and family.

What many don’t realize is that fear has ruled much of my life. Not an outward fear, but an inward, insidious fear masked by my stoicism. I would even venture to guess that a component of my love of adventure is a quest to better understand my inners fears. I can best pinpoint it to a fear of rejection and loss of control which manifests itself as anxiety. As I sit here reflecting, I am wondering if the root of those fears is my lack of unconditional acceptance of me- both my strengths and challenges.

The people who have been the most inspiration to me, and seem to be the happiest, are people who’ve had the humility and courage to accept, encounter, and learn to navigate through their challenges and use them to their advantages. They unconditionally accept themselves with no apologies. It’s the ones who move through each day, embracing the mosaic of events. It’s people who make interconnections as the core of their experiences; who nurture themselves; and are able to support others by having the strength to let go.

So I won’t push the delete button. For this moment, I am free of anxiety and am accepting and embracing my challenges. For this moment, I am unconditionally accepting myself. A step towards wholly healing…

Jill's Blog#3-A Luddite in a Technological World

The idea of a bike trip this summer suddenly infused me with vibrant, positive energy. I love to embark on journeys! My wheels were already turning, imagining Bryce and Mallory joining me on much of the trip and Todd linking in for the last week; and having friends joining us along the way. I was excited to have my children meet people who have been important at different points of my life, along with friends and family who are presently integral to our lives. They’d be able to hear stories from ordinary people we meet along the way who I remember back in 1979 were a great inspiration to me.

Then the reality set in. How could I make this happen? In 1979, Carol (my biking buddy), and I found a ride to get from Moscow, Idaho to Corvalis, Oregon. Then our bikes, (Wilma & Ethel) became part of our being for the rest of the summer. We had planned enough ahead to have maps of the Bicentennial Route sent to post offices along the way, but early in the trip, we abandoned the planned route, and instead picked roads recommended by local people. We had no agenda except to arrive in Williamstown, MA before we had to head back to Idaho for college.

Although very appealing, I quickly realized an impromptu agenda wasn’t going to fly for my trip this summer. Life now is more complicated. I had to keep in mind that potentially Mallory or I would need sag wagon assistance, and I had to leave open the option for the kids to abandon ship if this wasn’t the way cool experience that I thought they’d find it to be. Also, if it was going to open for friends and family to join us during the trip, we had to have a definitive route with stopping points.

Although I knew computer technology would allow me to integrate this trip and open the line of communication, how to do it seemed daunting. You see, I believe I was born with Luddite genes. I have often thought that I would have functioned much more easily if I had grown up in an era without all of the modern technologies. When I look at equipment which requires batteries, gas or electricity, I can feel myself immediately tense up. What is obvious to most people in the operation of equipment, I am totally alluded. Then, when a glitch arises requiring problem solving, I break out into a cold sweat.

Growing up, I gave up easily if I ran up against a real or perceived obstacle. It’s an attitude that as a parent, I haven’t wanted to model to my children. My natural inclination was to bail on the bike trip idea while trying to use the computer as a tool to plot my bike route map and set up a blog to journal my experience. I didn’t because I would feel like a hypocrite encouraging my children, to try harder, or find an alternative path when confronting obstacles.

So two and a half months after my decision to bike this summer, I’ve begun a blog; started a Prouty team; and have a rough draft of a computer map of my bike route. For most people, it would have taken a quarter the time it did for me, which was very frustrating and draining, but I do feel good that the trip is starting to become a reality; and I am grateful that people have offered to help me with the more technical computer logistics, which is my alternative path.

Jill's Blog #2-Assuming Responsibility for My Health and Well Being

I rode in the Prouty the previous two years to raise money for the Norris Cotton Cancer Center. How ironic that I was standing in line last September to register as a NCCC patient. I looked around the lobby and noticed that a majority of people appeared healthy like me, but by virtue of that fact I was a patient there, I suddenly felt I was labeled as sick.

I sat down and waited to be called to see the doctor. I picked up a magazine which featured an article about Lance Armstrong and his recovery from testicular cancer despite a poor prognosis. He told about his mind set to fight the cancer despite poor odds. I imagined his immune system blasting the cancer cells. I was determined to have the same kind of mind set.

I headed home, resolute to assume responsibility for my health and well being. After many years desiring to set up a regular meditation practice, I haven’t yet been successful in establishing one. Here was my golden opportunity. The positive energy would certainly curtail any aberrant cancer cells. I positioned myself on big pillows on the floor and had my watch on the floor next to it. I figured I’ll start out meditating for 10 minutes. Two minutes into it, I was already looking at my watch. I sat on the pillows with my legs crossed and my fingers laced with my palms facing upward. Like a toddler going through the motions with loud grunting sounds, but missing the crucial Valsalva maneuver during potty training, I was well positioned to meditate if only my mind would chill-out.

Responsibility for my health on food front I feel more successful. I haven’t had a Dr. Pepper or other sugary drink since starting my crusade to lead a healthy life style. I’ve also appreciably cut down on my sweets intake. I haven’t become less of a cheese hound, but figure it’s a relatively health vice.

On the exercise front, I was slow on the uptake, but I’ve a resumed strength training classes three mornings per week. Yeah for endorphin release through exercise! I don’t think I’d initiate a regularly exercise regime on my own, so I feel lucky to have one I can walk across the street to.

Onward to the beginning of December... I’m trying hard to not sweat the small stuff, which translates, that I’m not micro-managing (aka nagging) my family. When I assessed my nag meter, I had made some headway in this department. So although I wasn’t expending quite so much of my energy micro-managing the family, I found it wasn’t being redirected towards my emotional wellness. I was waking up a lot with hot-flashes during the night. I’ve found a direct correlation to night awakenings due to hot-flashes, with the level of stress I’m feeling. I was still ruminating about the cancer and feeling guilty about it since I was told I had been cured. I was turning towards my natural inclination to withdraw inward instead of reaching out to friends and family. It certainly wasn’t a healthy approach to wellness and heaven forbid if anyone saw my weakness.

Then, somewhere mid December I had the inspiration for my cycling journey this summer. I was volunteering at a H1N1 flu clinic. One of the nurses talked about a middle aged friend of hers who is on sabbatical riding her bike around the country. It instantly took me back me back to 1979 when I rode my bike across the country with a girlfriend from college. It has continued to be one of my most memorable life experiences. I was fueled by the authenticity and hospitality of people we met on our trip, as they took us under their wings and shared a momentary part of their lives with us.

As a journey back to physical and mental wellness, I decided to bike from Colorado back to Vermont, and invite family and friends to join me along the way. To keep me on track of the mission of my journey, I created following goals to in mind when making decisions during the planning process.

• Make connections with family and friends through a shared experience.
• Gain inspiration meeting people and hearing their stories.
• Heal my body and soul through exercise.
• Raise money for cancer research and supportive cancer care through the Norris Cotton Cancer Center.
• Keep a journal of my thoughts while planning and during my bike trip.
• Model to my children my process in healing my mind, body and soul, including embracing challenges getting there.

So step one, establishing a bike route.

Jill's Blog#1-How it Began

Wow, here I am, 53 years old and blogging... Despite my Luddite tendencies, I am venturing forth to communicate via a technology which baffles me, in hopes that it'll be more accessible. I feel compelled to document this particular journey in my life for the sake of my children. (And perhaps friends have had similar experiences they can relate to, or that blogging will have some cathartic affect on me). I want my children to see that at all ages we face obstacles for which we have a choice to confront or succumb. And that the path we choose, isn't always clear-cut or easy to follow.

My breast cancer journey began last August following a routine screening mammogram. I was called back to have a repeat mammogram which has been a common occurance over the years because of my lumpy breasts, (or in medical lingo- fibrocystic breasts). Over the course of a month I moved from one test to the next, in order to rule-out cancer. Depending upon my metal attitude du jour, the unknowing was a distant, worrisome nag, or on some days a consuming fret. I am certain that having children prevented me from falling into a wallow of self pity. As a parent, I feel I must put on a front as a pillar of strength and frequently a nagging inner voice tells me, "Jill whether it's positive or negative behavior, remember you're modeling to the kids." I wish my id would take over more often...

Last September, what started off as a biopsy, turned into a lumpectomy. It was determined that I had an early, noninvasive breast cancer. It was a great relief to have a diagnosis with an excellent prognosis. After a month of an emotional roller coaster, I figured I was back to relatively smooth sailing, riding high with a new lease on life. I was determined to start meditating; eat healthy; exercise; and stop sweating the small stuff.

Within a week, the road started to get bumpy again. I expected to see a 1 inch incision when I took the bandage off, and instead it was a 31/2 inch incision, and after the swelling had subsided, that breast was a cup size smaller. I didn't anticipate adjusting to an altered body image. Ping, I suddenly wasn't riding quite so high on life...

Then the feelings of ambivalence regarding treatment settled in…Since my breast cancer was diagnosed early on, the recommendations to prevent cancer recurrence were unclear due to limited research with outcomes to support treatment versus non-treatment. My options were radiation, Tamoxifen, both, or none of the above. I longed for the specialists to tell me what to do. Had my cancer been further advanced, they would have made a recommendation. After a month, my indecision was becoming a decision. I forced myself to arrange one more visit with the radiology oncologist, and after consternation decided for non-treatment since the benefits of radiation or Tamoxifen appeared to be limited. Instead I decided to focus on my life style.

Now the responsibility for my health and well being clearly rested on me. It would have been so much easier to have 5 weeks of radiation treatment and be blanketed in a false security that I prevented any chance for cancer recurrence. I wondered if I had made the right decision.