A few weeks ago, a friend commented in passing that I hadn't blogged in quite a while. He wondered if I'd packed it in, or was suffering from "writer's block." I responded that I hadn't actually thought about it for quite a while, and that, no, I wasn't aware of any block or other impediment to my writing. We drifted into other areas of conversation, but, as I returned home, I began to think of his comments further. No, I hadn't blogged in quite some time: in fact, I checked my blog's archive and discovered, to my amazement, that I had only blogged twice all of last year, not including my Kilimanjaro journal.Hmmm, I thought. Maybe I am blocked. But there are certainly still many things I'm interested in, and care about. I know that I've thought about a great many things over the year. My opinions are as firm as they ever were. And God knows there's no shortage of things to write about: Trump, North Korea, the Leafs, family and friends, the economy, the future, hell even the return of Thug Ford. No, I wasn't blocked. Something else was at work here.
I began to look back over the past year as coldly and as dispassionately as I could. And, as did so, I came to a very startling conclusion: I was hung-over ! Not in the traditional sense, however .... more in a state of mind, state of life sense. Allow me to explain.
It's been exactly a year since my Kilimanjaro expedition with my brother. Everything before that was geared to that event. My mind was constantly thinking about the climb, researching it, planning what was needed to prepare, what gear to get, how much it would all cost, what kind of toll it would take on me .... total focus on the climb. This was several months' worth of thought. I also became more physically active, trying to improve my fitness levels, get into shape and get my aged body used to the demands the climb would undoubtedly have on me. The focus, the excitement, the commitment were all real and all-consuming.
We had two trips to the Caribbean before the Kili climb: our family trip to Mexico right at New Year's and our annual trip to Cuba in mid January. Both were fun and very active. When I returned from Cuba in early February, I had only a month to ramp up my training for Kili and lose the extra pounds I'd put back on at Christmas, in Mexico and Cuba. And I was successful: I stopped drinking, ate better, and managed to lose 15 pounds. I swam, ran, hiked with full backpack, hit the weights and got back into good shape. And then, the big day arrived: on March 6, 2017, we were off. The trip was the stuff of legend and I blogged all about it, complete with photos. We returned home, exhausted and triumphant, on March 19, 2017.
And that's when the hang-over began.
It's hard to explain what happened and why. Kili was such a high, such a major life event for me. I spent weeks back home trying to re-live it in my mind and soul. I tried to make sense of what we'd done. I could scarcely believe it had actually happened. In fact, one year later, I still think of it as some crazed dream that I had. And physically, the trip took a huge toll. I spent the next three months trying to heal. My feet were terrible and I lost all but two toenails on both feet: it took weeks for the angry blisters to go away. To this day, my feet still hurt and probably always will: there's some arthritis to deal with too, but the damage from the descent is the main culprit. My knees needed three months of physiotherapy to get range of movement and strength back, and to reduce the pain. They're mostly better now: I am back to slow jogging again and that, to me, feels good. But every once in a while, when I zig when I should've zagged, my right knee will buckle and remind me that I put it through a terrible ordeal a year ago.
Because of all this, I've spent a fairly quiet year. We were able to get into our garden this past spring and summer and enjoy all the benefits of gardening. We've socialized with our friends and family as much as we have ever done. We've done some small trips here and there. All the nice, pleasant things that being retired brings, they've all been there and I've enjoyed them all.
But I'm still not all the way back yet. I think I left a good chunk of myself on those wind-swept, scree and ice covered, cold and stark rocks. I feel proud of the climb, but I am constantly aware that I have paid, and continue to pay a price for it.
I feel good. I feel happy. I'm looking forward to the future as I've always done: with optimism and confidence.
I just hope the hang-over is done with me ..... as in a real hang-over, time will tell.
