Trying Out Those Legs

You know I've been pool walking for a bit. You likely don't know I stopped a couple months ago, for several reasons including recently having a cold I didn't wish to either share, or treat to a chilly drive home from the pool. At any rate, I'm not as active as I had been.

I wasn't sure how much of a detriment that may have been, Or what parts may have been fairly neutral. My balance was and seems to remain fairly secure, having been much improved by the pool, barring those times when the legs themselves go wobbly from overuse. My stride is back to what it used to be, most of the time. I have a much quicker stride than in the last couple years, back to normal if only for short periods. I get some walking in the club, especially when I have to assist in store sales and we get customers who want things out of several cases before making any decisions. All cases are locked until something is requested for a closer look or a sale, so I can spend some time on my feet these days. In that sense, I'm still improving without the pool walking.

I know there are still limitations. At the club holiday party I even got out on the floor with about a dozen other women and danced most of a couple numbers. This was "most of a couple numbers" more than any previous years of those parties. However, I had to leave the floor early because the legs started to wobble. Another minute and I would likely been down on the floor instead of dancing or walking off. Still, my normal activity load is done comfortably. But boy, was that fun!

Pool walking is different from regular walking, however, especially for somebody as buoyant as I am. I tell people I'm such a cork that as soon as the water level reaches 4 1/2 feet, I barely touch the pool floor and without traction can barely continue forward. They laugh, perhaps at how true that is. Even in shallower water, enough of me is supported that it is a particularly low stress activity, even at top walking speed. That's great for a developing bad ankle and arch, but not so much for muscle strength.

I decided I was ready for a real world test of my limitations. We had Minnesota company in town. The weather when they left to drive down here was awful, delaying their arrival and limiting  our time together. This morning they were heading out to Lake Montezuma, the first leg of their trip back home. Steve and I decided to head up there as well, taking two cars, guys in one, women in the other, for long conversations on the way. The goal was Montezuma's Well.

I've been there. I've taken pictures. I wanted to go back, show them what I loved about the place, and take - you guessed it - more pictures. Turns out there was a lot more up and down than I remembered, some as sloped paved paths, but lots as stairs. The way up, at least, kept stairs to about three at a time, railings on both sides for support and security in case balance falters. I haven't done stairs for, well,  I can't remember how long. For sure not since the knee replacements, and avoided as much as possible for years before that. Down here I navigate the curbs as the steepest steps around, and even that had taken a while to comfortable conquer. This was a challenge.

I wound up making it to the top by stopping at every other set of steps or so, holding on to the railing and panting for a bit, then continuing. For the record, Steve just looked at the route and decided his day was well served by sitting on the bench at the ranger shack and having conversations with his friend who also made the same decision, both of the rangers, and the occasional passer-by who wanted to contribute before starting the climb.

Upon reaching the top, I located a likely rock and plunked down on it. It had to be one high and flat enough that I could reasonably expect to get up off it again on my own power. There was a good one fitting those qualifications right in a great spot to get a few pictures. Then it started to get interesting. From that spot to the overlook railing was actually several steps down.

Sure.

If I don't do up well, I do down even worse. Add the complication that whichever genius planned the path managed to put rails along the upward path but none to assist with the downward steps. You know, where a loss of balance could result in a fall that would bring you right over to the lip. And from that lip, there's a whole lot of down. Sure, there might be water at the bottom, but who wants to try to see how much one can scrape off along the way, and just how deep that water is to gently stop your fall? Or not?

I readily took my friend Peggy up on her offer of reaching out a hand so I had something to assist any bitty insufficiency of balance. I didn't need support, just something to trust.

After enjoying the rim view, particularly watching the ducks weave trails through whatever that brown stuff on top of the water was that they appeared to be eating, we continued heading down around the outside of the Well to where the stream came out. Or at least that was the plan. The trip included a whole lot more stairs without any railings, so we stuck closely together for much of it.

I had recalled the ruins alongthe path that had sat there from enough hundreds of years ago that the stone walls were gone in places, and uneven where they had survived. Any roof had been gone so long that a tree had grown up in the middle, reached a venerable old age, and died. The dry climate still preserved it. Made a great picture, at least in my mind. I'll have to look at the several I took and see if reality makes a fool of me.

I shot fairly quickly and was again looking for somewhere to perch. While Peggy was taking her turn at taking in the ambiance of the ruins, I located a sitting rock where I waited. Those legs were starting to suggest the smoothest, flattest way back to the car was a good option. By the time I looked at the branching in the path leading down to the stream, all I noticed was steps heading down. far enough that there was no longer any "out" beyond them. Just "down." down. Oh, and railings? Maybe somebody in the National Park system thought those would mar the beauty of the place?

Peggy and I consulted. She would go on down and enjoy the heck out of what was there, which she says she did. Meanwhile I spied a bench another hundred feet or so beyond the branch in the path, aka the way back to the cars, where I could sit and stretch out for however long Peggy took. Which turned out to be maybe 20 minutes.

By no means was the time wasted, camera-wise or otherwise. This was a different angle on the ruins we'd passed, looking up at them instead of down, silhouetted against the sky, with scattered other trees around to add interest. There was a different sycamore than the one I'd shot from several lens lengths while at the ruins, and this one also had the lowering sun make the white bark gleam, a shout against the browns in the landscape and the deep Arizona blue sky.

Scattered groups of twos and threes passed by, all obviously having enjoyed their experiences. About the time it occurred to me to wonder how Peggy was doing, a hawk appeared, riding the thermals, circling in varied patterns over the trees and ruins. After watching it for about 5 minutes, it occurred to me that, while it was too tiny to make a still shot, it might show up in a video if I zoomed up on it a bit. Another thing to check out once I've downloaded the file. It hung around until about a minute after I finished the video shot, disappearing over the hill  to look for that next so-far-elusive tasty morsel. Within seconds, Peggy returned up the hill. I suspect she found that beautiful, peaceful bit of a stream in the middle of a dessert to be as much of a spiritual experience as I had many years ago.

From there back to the car the path was all wheelchair accessible. The rest had given my legs the respite needed to make it without too much stress, but when I hit the car it was about all I could do to stand long enough to stow the camera and relocate a few other items needed for the drive back. That hundred miles was no problem at all. No aching. No quivering. No problem responding to the need for speed or braking.

All in all, the test run (test walk?) was both discouraging and reassuring. It was difficult, I rejected doing the part I most had wanted to do, but I did manage to complete the most challenging walking I've done in way too long.  Even with its limitations, I think it's time to get back in the pool. And maybe see if I can dig up some stairs to practice on. There must be some somewhere.