As I was showering after returning home from my first-ever outrigger canoeing race and reflecting a bit on how much fun I'm having with this sport...I couldn't help but think back to where I was a year ago: in the hospital agonizing over an infection in my left leg that just wouldn't heal.
Many of you probably remember the entry I wrote after that night I spent in fear of losing my leg and the hope I had as I was slowly recovering. Back then I had no idea that my battle with the infection would flare up again while I was visiting Denver, or would last well into August.
So as the hot water poured over my head and back I cried a few tears of joy...they were just about as salty as was the water that I swallowed after falling into the San Diego Bay this morning (boo on that nasty red boat who steered their nose under our ama!). But you know what--it didn't matter that we tipped. We recovered quickly, got our wits about us, and still ended up passing many other boats to a solid finish in the race (and I tell you, when we came into the home stretch and heard hundreds of people cheering us home, it didn't matter one bit what place we were in that race). We paddled our best and gave it our all. We had fun. I wouldn't have wanted to be anywhere else but out there this morning! (note to self: adrenaline is a magical drug--I leapt right back into that boat with nary a thought about my inability to do a pullup).
As a Mother's Day/birthday gift John bought me a fancy new steering blade(!!!!). What a great partner he is--seeing me through thick and through thin for the past two decades. That man, he is pure magic--I knew if from the moment I first saw him and he proves it true again every day.
When I had my surgery at the end of last summer, my doc told me it would take at least a year before my leg would be healed through and through. But he was wrong. The healing...it's all done now.