At Altitude

Halfway through round 5 of chemo. At this point in treatment, a full week of chemo really knocks me out. I’m tired, draggy, and feel like I’m moving in slow motion compared to everyone around me. As I slogged through yesterday, I was reminded of how it feels to move at high altitude.

In 2001, Chris and I cycle-toured through the Bolivian Altiplano. Chris left for the trip first, spending some time in Chile where he had lived for a time—then riding his bike up to La Paz where he met up with me. We spent the first week traveling around  by train, partly so I could adjust to the altitude before starting our ride.

It was a spectacular trip that we will never forget—I also will never forget my first attempt to climb the Altiplano on a modified mountain bike weighted down by fully loaded panniers.  Let’s just say the “adjustment period” really didn’t accomplish what I had hoped. Moving up that mountain, I felt completely betrayed by my body—I was weak, unable to get enough air into my lungs, and my pedals seemed to be circling at a snail’s pace.

Chris was continuously checking on me, and trying to find a way to make the ride easier for me, but after riding an absurdly small distance I had to get off my bike, and seriously question whether I could get up that first hill. I know Chris was worried about me, and that he knew how defeated I felt. He also wanted me to get up this first hill so that I could experience what promised to be an amazing trip. Without hesitation, he got off his bike, lashed my bike to his with some compression straps, and began to tow both bikes up the hill. I remember watching with amazement as he pushed two heavy mountain bikes up a 12,000 foot mountain, all with a smile on his face, talking me up that hill next to him, one step at a time. When I’d recovered some strength (and a little bit of dignity) I started to ride again.

And so, the last few months Chris has done the same for me, and for the girls. Carried the weight of what this treatment does to our family with strength, calm and class, all so that we can get through to the other side and resume our lives again as a healthy family. We are so lucky to have him.