My Summer of Surrender

I went for a bike ride last night.

That doesn't sound like such a big deal in itself but for me it was. It was the first time in several months that I actually felt like riding just for fun and had the energy to do it. Not because I had to. Not because it was part of my fitness plan. But simply because I had the desire to ride along the creek and smell the wet dirt after the recent rain and see the clouds over the buttes and get closer to the rainbow in the sky.

The day after I got home from my June weekend at USM, my doctor gave me the news and it wasn't good: I had anemia, adrenal fatigue, liver dysfunction, kidney imbalance, low calcium levels, low iron levels...and more. I was a mess.

Well, DANG! No wonder I was so tired all the time. No wonder getting out of bed in the morning was nearly impossible through my groggy fog.

But, dang, I was a mess.

It made sense, but, wow, it sounded really bad. Somehow the news felt like a blessing (I can finally justify slowing down and resting) and a curse (I am actually sick. How can that be? That happens to other people, not to me! I take care of myself!).

My first surrender was to my body. I slept 8-9 hours a night and lay down on the couch all day every day for the rest of the week. Lexi and Zane were stoked because they spent the first week of summer vacation watching all the movies and Disney channel shows their eyes could handle. I got up periodically to make lunch and snacks but immediately laid back down again and stared at the ceiling. I didn't even read a book, I just lay there on the couch. Even a book sounded exhausting.

My resting paid off. The next week, I had slightly more energy. I felt like walking to the creek (with a rest afterward, of course!). The following week, Lexi and Zane learned to ride their bikes without training wheels and we added short bike rides to the library and through the park to our morning routine. With plenty of resting in the afternoon.

Each week through the summer, I felt slightly better. In July, I added fresh vegetable juices to my daily routine and I started to have even more energy, another noticeable improvement. I started laughing more, enjoying the summer with my kids. When they went to summer camps a few days a week, I didn't do anything, I just rested some more.

My second surrender was the daily surrender to my body's wisdom and I surrendered every day of the summer. I surrendered to how it is, not how I wanted it to be. I surrendered to reality. I surrendered to putting myself first. I surrendered to my priorities. Everything else was on hold and I made no apologies for it. My health (and rest) came first, then came my kids, then came anything else, such as travel, friends, meetings, whatever. Everything took a backseat this summer and it paid off last night on my bike ride.

It paid off. But it was hard. It was hard to slow down, hard to not do everything I wanted to do, hard not to overdo it, hard to say "no" to fun things that sounded tiring, like going camping or to my cousin's wedding. This summer, I went deeper in my relationship with surrender than I have ever been before.

Through my fog, I had forgotten what it felt like to have the desire for physical activity. I'd forgotten the joy of just moving my body, turning those pedals, moving for the sheer joy of it. As the rain let up and I saw the rainbow hovering over Upper Park, beckoning me out into the world, I stopped myself. Would it be too much? Would a bike ride set me back? How long would my recovery be? I'd finally built an energy reserve that matched my daily requirements, I didn't want to risk going backward, back to the couch.

So, I sat with the idea for a while, waiting to see how it felt in my body to go out for a ride. The rainbow kept calling me, the hills wanted me to ride up them, the creek - I knew it would be gurgling - and the dirt enticed me with its fresh loamy smell. I felt good. I wanted to ride.

And so I did. I smelled the dirt, felt my thigh muscles pumping, watched the acorn woodpeckers flying between trees and felt the breeze on my face as I pedaled through Bidwell Park. I stopped in Upper Park to admire the view - the sky was dramatic with different shapes and colors of clouds, everything changing as the sun set - and watched a deer forage for sweet grass sprouts along the golf course. I took a deep breath, grateful to be alive, so alive, this alive.

I feel great this morning as I write this. I have my usual energy (I've already made breakfasts and lunches, dropped the kids at school, gone grocery shopping at two stores, picked up a bag of juicing apples at my friend's house, cleaned the kitchen and checked my email). I didn't set myself back with my bike ride. In fact, I think I set myself forward, back to the feeling I'd been looking for in March when I turned in my ideal scene about my health: I feel alive and healthy. I'm on my way to feeling vibrantly alive in abundant health as I described in my ideal scene. Right now, though, for the first time in a long time, I'm enjoying being in my body, enjoying my physical self-expression again. I feel like myself again.

I am still practicing surrender, especially surrendering to what is and what my limits are. I'm creating healthy boundaries for myself based on accurate feedback and wisdom from my body. (Mainly because I'm actually listening to my body!) I expect to learn a lot more about surrender in the future, but for now I'm happy with our current relationship. Surrender has gotten me healthy again and it got me back out on my bike.

Just for fun.