How many times do you get up?

Friday I flew to Anchorage. I’ve never been to Alaska. Living in the Seattle area for 35 years, everyone goes. They drive the whatever it’s called Yukon drive, they take cruise ships in the summer and fall, they sign on for fishing boats for a season, they share their art - lots of cultural references are a deep part of the Pacific Northwest life.

So I knew I would be working, and helping a friend recover from too many surgeries and poor health. I would be in a foreign land and a foreign home and maybe tweak a memory or twelve of my childhood growing up in the frigid winters of Minnesota. I definitely have an adventurous bone somewhere in my body and jump on the opportunity to visit new and interesting places AND more importantly, feel the warmth and love that comes from supporting a friend in need.

I almost always bring supplies with me when I travel. Because of the way I eat, I can enjoy so much about living elsewhere by not worrying that I have to find my food.

It can be very challenging, especially being vegan. Airports generally are less than accommodating, and the long and sometimes delayed opportunities can be downright scary for those of us working so hard to stay healthy and strong and vibrant. The fast food poison eeks out everywhere…the lines at security make the timing so challenging, “what do I need vs what is available?” Watching others drink and eat as if their vacation is all about the food rather than their traveling companions brings a bigger gloom over eating.

So Jac, Ni and I made 3 batches of beans, a big batch of sweet potatoes, big batch of brown rice, a huge bag of roasted veggies and 4 pounds of sautéed baby portobellos, chanterelles and onion.

I double bag them, freeze some and they travel really well. Even TSA is fine with them. They may garner a really big smile but ironically, I don’t think it’s that weird for them to see these things on a flight to Alaska.

The other issue is the weight. These bags, total, weighed in at over 25 pounds. I hoped I could pack them in my suitcase but alas, that put my suitcase well over the limit. I say all this because the question is, “How many times do you fall down?”

Once I put the backpack on with the 20 ish pounds of delicious and nutritious food, the 5 pound computer and another 5 or so pounds of miscellaneous stuff so very necessary for my trip, I’m now carrying almost as much in my back pack as:

1.  most of my excess skin - about 45 pounds

2. 1/5 ish of what I’ve released

3. Half the weigh of Doug

4. 1/4 of my own body weight….

On my back.

I’m already top heavy, my boobs go on for days and days…. It was a very interesting challenge…. taking the backpack off and on was herculean, so I kept it on whilst peeing… which without grab bars, brought a new challenge to standing up - I may have giggled initially at the literal ridiculousness of my circumstances. And I may have tweaked a thigh muscle while rocking to get the momentum going…

And the concentration and pure brute force required to walk through the airport….wow.

So the question of how many times do I get back up…. I did not fall. That’s a big win. Yeah me. I was very aware that it could have been very dangerous. AND I am so very grateful for the bounty in the fridge, made even sweeter due to my beast mode yesterday.

I will always get up. Always. Some of them may take a beat.

Whenever the last time on this earth is, it will be sweeter for all the other times I’ve gotten back up.