Stinkers everywhere!

I've suddenly been getting lots of visits from stinkers at my trail cameras. I've never photographed a skunk before the past two months. The one shown below is the classic striped skunk that most of you know.

We also have spotted skunks.

This is a view that you never want to see in person! Thank goodness that he didn't spray my camera.

I've had a stinker of a few days with the news about my spine degeneration depressing me immensely. Before deciding what to do about the serious lumbar spine degeneration, I'm getting an MRI of the entire length of my spine. Having the big picture might help with decisions.

I've really needed the sunny mornings in the golden aspen groves to keep me sane. Even when I feel down and simply exhausted from the never-ending saga of my spine, I go out and seek my happiness. After shaking off a few yawns, K and I usually end up happy to be outdoors and together.

When I dive into one of the golden aspen groves on my mountain bike, it feels like I've entered an alternative universe. I took this photo while rolling along on my bike so it's slightly out of focus. I wanted you to feel what it's like to ride fast through an aspen grove in autumn.

I desperately wanted to take K to visit these groves but I made a mistake a few days ago. I let K go across her agility teeter-totter, and she did it with far more verve than I expected. She came off the teeter-totter holding her 3-toed paw off the ground in pain. I thanked my lucky stars that the paw pain seemed to abate quickly, and one dose of Rimadyl had her galloping around like a puppy the next morning.

So, thanks to that good luck, we visited the grove together! You can barely see her ahead of me on the trail in the next photo.

We also gazed at a spectacular view of storm clouds over the craggy peaks of the Divide, all accented by golden aspens.
For me, the natural world is a soothing balm for my soul. I feel so lucky to have this beauty all around me. This was the sunset that the Labraduo and I saw within an hour of my depressing doctor's appointment. Woo!

A brighter outlook

We are emerging from a dark period, still unsure of what the future holds, but happy that both K and I are, at the moment, feeling better than we were a few days ago. We're still grieving over our friend J but we're trying to live with his joyful spirit guiding us.

During the dark period when K was sick and I was both in pain and sick, we had a couple of days of rain. We are spoiled here in Colorado with 300 sunny days per year - so we are shocked and dismayed when it rains *all* day.

However, I must admit that the rain does paint pretty pictures.

During the rainy dark days, a fawn visited a wildlife camera and glittered with raindrops. Doesn't she look as innocent as Bambi with her huge soft eyes?

As the rain stopped, we started getting some good signs. K's cultures of her urinary tract turned up clean so we will try, for the sixth time since April, to take her off of antibiotics next week. If she immediately gets sick again as has happened the last five times, it will be time for some serious tests.

My back, neck, and leg pain has eased enough that I can function again. But, I have an MRI scheduled so I'll be forced to find out what's happened inside my spine since my last MRI. I've had many spine MRI's in my life, and I don't ever remember the news being good - not even once. But, perhaps it will be decent enough that I can avoid surgery for a while longer. In the meantime, I'll keep enjoying the forest in my favorite style.

I try to imitate K. She never complains about her loss of a toe or her UTIs. A dog's spirit is unfathomably strong.

In fact, today, K was so excited about mountain biking with me that, when we reached my planned turnaround point, she refused. I've shortened her mountain bike rides with me this summer due to her paw and her UTIs. But, today, K put her paw down and said that we were "going for it"! Her enthusiasm convinced me to venture over to the vast aspen groves that sit a decent distance from our house. She was right - we had a blast!

Tomorrow, I'll post some wild cat updates for the bobcat mother and kitten, and for a much bigger kitty. As you'll see, it's good that Bambi was vigilantly looking over her shoulder.

Keep Moving

Storms have chased me everywhere recently, it seems.

I've been going through an extremely bad phase with my spine. Jolting electrical pain down my legs has made life miserable. It's been tough to keep moving but I know, from many years of experience, that motion is the best thing.

K joins me for easy mountain bike rides every morning. Look at that sky over the Divide even early in the morning! It's rare to be rained on and hear rumbles of thunder at 8 AM but it happened yesterday.

The Divide almost disappeared behind swirling and angry clouds a little later in my ride.

The stormy skies seem to reflect whatever is going on in my spine. I've done something, although I'm not sure what, to make my nerves very very angry. It wasn't the epic odyssey that I wrote about in the last post because I was fine for more than 2 weeks after that ride.

So, I'm keeping moving and trying not to let the word "surgery" creep into my thinking. I know that another fusion is sitting out there in the future waiting for me (my MRIs show a host of disintegrating discs) but I'm trying to delay for as long as possible to protect the remaining unfused parts of my spine. As soon as more joints are fused, the stress increases at the adjacent ones and degrades those discs. Thus, a fusion tends to increase in length as the remaining discs fall like dominoes.

Yesterday, during my easy ride, I ran into a friend who has a young horse. Her horse is inexperienced around bikes so we joined together for a combined horse and mountain bike excursion for a short loop. We were quite a sight - a mountain bike in front, a young and peppy trotting horse with a rider behind me, and finally a loose horse running along next to us. My friend and I giggled the whole way!

After saying farewell to the horse brigade, I spotted a mother wild turkey with TEN babies. I captured a photo of the mother and three babies but the others were nearby. The babies look almost ready to set out on their own.

Getting out and moving is the best thing for me. And, along the way, I see so many beautiful things that I briefly forget the pain - a very good thing!

Storms nipping at our heels

Storms have been nipping at our heels all week long. Even first thing in the morning, the columnus clouds have puffed up above the Divide.

Then, during my bike rides, clouds move in from all sides.

The high peaks spawn the storms which usually hit sometime after mid-morning.

I finished my bike rides in pleasantly chilling rain many days this week.

On some days, the sun would reemerge and dry the flowers like this Western Spiderwort (Tradescantia occidentalis) that I found blooming in a pocket meadow on a steep hillside. I'd never seen one before but I loved its delicate details.

We often hiked under ominous skies in the evenings this week. You can also see in the photo below how fast R's "brindling" is transforming his face. Today, a stranger questioned whether he was truly a Lab. An outrageous question, don't you think? R was mortified.

All of the storms and clouds have painted stunning sunsets.

You'll notice in my narrative that I'm continuing all my normal activities, except really hard alpine hikes (which are not "normal" for me), despite the intensified spine pain. Like my commenter, Marilyn, I find that staying active is the key to dulling the pain and preventing its escalation.

Many years ago, when my spine staged its first horrendous rebellion, my doctor prescribed bed rest. It was the worst thing that I could've done but I didn't have any wisdom about managing spine pain yet. I've learned, through trial and error, to keep moving, no matter what. Even after each of my spinal fusion surgeries, I've started nagging the nurses to let me try to walk the hospital halls within hours of waking up. I think that I was the nurses' worst nightmare patient but moving is my answer to pain!

The joy is in the journey

Sprinting out the door and actually making it up to our viewpoint before sunrise is getting harder and harder. Longer days... I love them but I shall miss most sunrises when they are too early for this sluggish coffee hound.

Based on our early morning snow bike rides together, I have an impression that K has made a leap in her recovery from the long bone infection ordeal. For a while, she seemed like a shadow of her usual self. For the past few days, she's been scrambling among boulders, sprinting, and playing with an abandon that shouts that the ordeal is history.

One thing that remains is that she gained lots of gray in chocolate fur. I did too.

Although she has a predilection for action now, she still likes to stop and soak up the sun.

Out on the trails, she lives in the moment - running hard, sniffing carefully, and rolling in the snow. When we're in the forest, we generally have no destination. We are simply enjoying being in nature together. The joy is in the journey and not in a goal.

Although sometimes it might look like I'm pedaling hard to get someplace fast, that's usually not the case. In my dreams, I'd love to race bikes again someday. My bike racing days came to an abrupt halt when I ruptured a disc during a race in my early twenties. So, I know that a return to racing will never happen - my spine precludes it.

Now, I read about ultra-long distance snow bike races (like the Iditarod going on now) and mountain bike races, and I get these wild ideas that I should throw common sense to the wind and compete again. But then I remember - I'd be risking everything if I raced because I'm incapable of doing anything halfway - especially in a competitive atmosphere. I can't risk my precious early morning rides with K and my sunset hikes with the Duo. No way. I'll simply enjoy what I can do, here and now.

Now, I ride at a pace that lets me notice the small bits of beauty, like these purple catkins on a small tree growing next to a frozen creek.

One of my recent sunset hikes with the Duo featured spectacular skies. The sun dipped below the mountains, setting the blowing snow ablaze.

Snow billowing off nearby peaks glowed like gold dust.

Then, our world turned purple - the sky, the snow, and even the grass.

After the purple, gold took over. I've walked this trail a thousand times but it's never looked golden like this in the past.

The show ended as the cloud bank over my head caught fire against the eggshell blue sky.

What did those skies whisper to me? Chase your dreams but within reason. Figure out what you love and hold onto it. This message feels especially poignant these days as I'm scared by my spine's rebellion and by the frown that I saw on my PT's face as she examined me. "Not good" - her expressive face told me. So, I'll keep doing what I love and realizing how tenuous life is. Each day is worth savoring. K and R remind me of that every single day.

Better to live fully with some risk than to let life pass by.

PS Your comments about our pepper spray incident left me laughing out loud! Thanks for the grins. We're still battling the spray and residue. All windows and doors are open and fans are running - with a 30 degree temperature outside (and inside)!

So there, pain!

I've had a rough 24 hours. Something caused my cervical (neck) spine pain to escalate beyond my threshold. This morning, the muscles between my neck and head still spasmed relentlessly, even after a full night's sleep. It's a sign that something's not right in the section of my neck where I had surgery a year ago.

As I tried to decide how to spend my day, I looked at the thermometer and it read -7°F. Snow whipped out of the gray sky. I was sorely tempted to give up the never-ending battle, take my pain meds, and go back to bed.

My rational side has learned over the years that the "go to bed" strategy makes me feel worse, both physically and psychologically. So, when the Runner and the Duo invited me to cross country ski with them early this morning, I accepted. I'm certain that I wasn't delightful company but the outing started shifting my attitude in a better direction.

The Duo didn't mind the extra load of snow that fell overnight, bringing us up to a deep snowpack, that varies from 6" to 3' depending on where you stand after yesterday's wind. The combination of fresh snow and the arctic temperature made it a 'white face day' for the canines.

I stopped to enjoy their goofy snow-decorated faces.

They worked hard, galloping like wild mustangs through almost bottomless snow.

K was ready to go home after a relatively short outing. At excruciating low temperatures, her paw bothers her.

Selfishly, I felt sad that she couldn't join me for more time in the forest. Her companionship cheers me immensely. I take care of her and she takes care of me. It's a two-way street.

So, I wrestled with how to do some biking - since cycling is always the best medicine for my spine. Given the unrideable trails, the extraordinary cold, and the snow still falling out of the sky, I debated whether to ride a stationary bike indoors or try to ride on the snow-packed dirt roads. After hemming and hawing for much too long, I decided to "go for it". I took out my snow bike and rode to a couple of narrow and quiet private roads. I did a short ride, to the end and back of each of them.

I'm so glad that I went out into the arctic world. One reason is that I met the elk herd, spread out over an endless meadow. Most of them lay in the snow, not bothering to munch on the tall dry grass still protruding from the deep layer of snow. A few elk were up and about, lazily chewing on their low calorie diet. I honestly don't know how such massive animals survive the winter with so little food available.

This guy is a calf, born last spring in the high meadows of our mountains. It's his first winter. I wonder what he thinks of it?

He turned to examine me - and I found that he had a white face just like the dogs!

I delighted in watching the herd who seemed very relaxed despite my presence. It brought home the lesson that it's almost always better to go out into the natural world rather than sitting on a stationary bike in my house. But, it's not always easy to overcome the "victim perspective" that chronic pain tends to produce and push myself out the door. The relentlessness of the pain wears me down, making it harder to get moving. By going out and doing something that I love, I feel like I defeat the pain in a small way. I actually think "So there, pain!". And, I feel happier, even if the pain doesn't go away.

I'm sorry to focus so much on pain in this post. Spine pain is with me every single day but usually I can overlook it. Not today.