I may not have any broken bones, but I’m battered and bruised. Several days of being tossed around in high surf. (Note to self: You may not be able to read what the warning sign says in Spanish, but when the red flag is up at the beach you probably should stay out of the water.)
A full day of zip lining in Puerto Vallarta. Stretching the shoulders, lifting the legs, flying high over the jungle and river over and over again. (Note to self: Remember to get to those high, long zip lines you will need to hike up multiple steep uneven paths and stairs and your knees might not be happy with you. And don’t forget you only have one lung working. That will really be a problem.)
A mule ride. (Note to self: Mules are amazingly sure-footed over super-steep rocky paths.)
Snorkeling in Cabo San Lucas from a Zodiac raft. Jump out over the side, climb back in. (Note to self: It is a heck of a lot harder getting back into a raft than getting out.)
Bruises up and down my legs, my arms and shoulders, and my hands. Rheumatoid-arthritic joints overused and swollen, leaving extremities numb. (Note to self: That’s the price you pay for working on being a suck-the-marrow adventurous person.)
Rheumatoid arthritis.
One lung.
Two knee replacements.
175 pounds lost.
(Note to self: Remember to keep pushing yourself, but not too much. Know when it’s time to take it easy.)
I’ll take a lesson from the sea lion in Cabo San Lucas. Just hanging out, waiting to the tide to come in. No worries.
