This Is Where I Breathe

Stopping for some hydration mid way through our trail route that day, in between the panting after that last climb, I turned to Alex and heard myself saying: “Kabsat, this is where I breathe.”

No words. He just looked at me and, being there since the time I learned of Cecille's prognosis, understood what I meant.

This current journey through cancer tosses so many questions into the mix. While I chose not to be afraid, there are times when my reserve starts to ebb. This is when I gear up, fill my water bottles and head towards my favorite trail where I am sure to find my bearing, have my fill, feel life up close.

Things can get busy in there, with so many things to remember. You have to remember that before you commit, you need to define your line. You have to remember to keep your balance and momentum at all times. You have to remember to focus or else risk injury. You have to remember to stay active and loose on the bike. Importantly, you have to remember to enjoy.

The trail can yield a lot of surprises and what you think you know may end up on your face. Literally. That crest ahead may appear innocent and manageable but can, in an instant, cause your rear tire to lose traction and slide. Believe me, the aftermath hurts.

Or when on that most critical turn your fork decides to rise by itself and for a second there, lose all traction. It can cause massive panic.

But there are also times when like a little child, I let her rip. Up that berm, through those fire roads, over those ruts and roots no matter if my bottom takes a severe beating. The rush is worth it. The back side may be sore but the impish grin will always be there.

Right now I am learning to bunny hop over obstacles. I may be too late into my biking years to be trying this. Nonetheless a personal achievement considering a wrong fall can seriously hurt this soon to be 54 year old.

I think the most fun comes when discovering a new singletrack. At first a sense of hesitation but I know that as soon as I've done something once, I will be fine. And so I pedal myself into the path, rolling down several drops and then conquering the steep step-up that immediately followed. I triumphed!

Somehow I find all these encounters, specially from where Cecille and I now stand, mirror life. Just like threading into the unknown singletrack, the earlier days were filled with uncertainties and apprehensions.

But Cecille and I, in spite of the odds, chose to pedal on into the unknown and roll over what ever obstacle that will be in front of us. Our hearts know this struggle is temporary. Our hearts know we will overcome.

Someone once said what you believe about yourself and about your world is critical. I totally agree. How we see ourselves is essentially how we will see our world.

In this particular place, with all it's ruts, gnarly roots, sudden climbs and jolting drops, the believing in myself takes a renewal. It brings back my bearing, it fills my cup, it makes me feel life up close.

It is here where the seeds that makes me braver than brave grows and become forests.

It is here where I breathe.

Cancer

I love writing, I love telling my stories which is why I love this blog.

But life suddenly threw something so heavy that stumped me, broke me. Nothing made sense. It was so unreal.

October last year Cecille was diagnosed with Stage 4 Adenocarcinoma. It is lung cancer at its worst. The prognosis was severely devastating. It was life interrupted. I lost all enthusiasm to write, to tell my story.

No symptoms. One day she was healthy, the next they accidentally discovered this tumor as big as a tennis ball in her right lung and metastasis has occurred. They took tissue samples for biopsy on the nodules that has already grown on the base of her neck. It spread even to her liver.

I tried to hold on to anything that would make me understand but nothing above that which was dreadful would come. Some relatives and friends from whom I was counting for strength were the very ones insistent in finding out how soon all this will end. Some even encouraging me to start sorting our affairs, to prepare for the worst.

Cecille and I live healthy lives. We never indulge on processed food particularly those that comes in cans. We consume vegetables and fruits more than most close acquaintances. We would rather eat in and enjoy our cooking than eat out. We have no vices.

I bike till I drop while Cecille is among the few in our village who does not take the trike from the village main gate to our home preferring the good 150-meter walk.

We love life and have made it our advocacy to help those who are stricken with cancer, those with less, those just wishing to have a little more time with ones they love.

Now it is Cecille who is sick. An irony.

This person, my reason for my writing, my inspiration, my strength, is sick. I thought we were through with this sort of journey after Carmella. I thought we were done with the aches, the anxiety, the bouts with hopelessness. I thought I would never be afraid again. I wanted to be angry.

But there is so much goodness Cecille has brought into my life. She made me complete. She is my joy. 

So I chose to believe.

"Look where you want to go next, and don't focus on the rocks and bumps immediately in front of you." as one biker mom wrote in a mountain biking magazine I recently read.

“Look where you want to go next.....” Indeed, it is not about the journey, with all its struggles, but where Cecille and I wanted to be at the end of this road.

So rather than be afraid, I chose to focus on healing. Rather than be disturbed by the uncertain, I chose to look, with enthusiasm, towards our plans and hopes. Rather than doubt, I chose to believe.

Down this path, this particular gnarly single track, I have chosen my line and I have committed.

I know I will see my self through.

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As of this writing, Cecille is currently on her fourth chemotherapy session. Middle of February she will have another CT Scan to assess the progress of her treatment. Her last scan revealed that after two treatments the tumor has shrunk by 46% while most of the nodules have disappeared. We believe that come February we will see ourselves through.

Would I Have It Any Other Way?

There are times when discouragement sets in. Frustrated because of the limited space one operates in, he gets choked by what he perceives as a continuing want. He begins to notice that everyone had ran past him, leaving him to ask if it was complacency or the absence of freedom, like those enjoyed by others, caused his timid pace. All the unanswered questions breaks him.

But in the middle of his distress, he turns to see his sleeping daughter and begins to ask.

Would he really choose personal freedom over her? Would all the synonyms of success come close to the 7-letter name of his child?

Would he rather be that father busy building his empire or would he, instead, choose to be present and available for every little victory she achieves, be awed by another original and built-up-from-scratch art project, listen to each story she wants to share?

Would he rather spend the day in the company of people he views as artists, endlessly indulging with them in hope that what he learns will give him the empowerment he seeks? Or would he prefer hearing his daughter read him a story?

Would he chase every opportunity that will bring him esteemed stature among his peers or would instead choose immersing on the experience of living and laughing with his child?

Would he aim at working to have all that his heart desires or would he settle for what is basic because the endless pursuit of want may take him and his time away from her?

Would he rather have the personal space to pursue his passions in exchange for the chance to witness his child's journey from leukemia to recovery?

Would he have it any other way?

Nothing can be as eternally precious as this child, he remembers.

Joy flows and he begins to smile.

When You Say Yes

Photo Credit: Wikipedia

You commit.

Otherwise you would have said “No”, “I have to get back to you on that.”, “I am super busy!” or my personal favorite: “Let me check Cecille.”

When you say “Yes”, you are essentially saying “I Can.”

When you say “Yes”, it will often be understood as “I deliver.”

When you say “Yes”, you are soliciting an “I Trust” from your audience.

When you say “Yes”, all who gave their “I Trust” will start holding on to your every word. Nothing less for one who has freely given his “I Trust.” Everyone awaits the fulfillment of your “Yes.”

The only choice is to deliver, to keep your promise, to live up to your “Yes.”

When you say “Yes” you have to commit for whether you like it or not, your “Yes” talks loudly about the brand named “ME”.

Now, if I only knew they will suddenly take that object of my “Yes,” that led to my “I Can,” that was understood as “I deliver,” that elicited an “I Trust,” off the shelf.....

One Is Fun

This afternoon, our Sky Cable Digibox was delivered and installed. Though our TV is from the prehistoric era, our viewing has now become digital and with a few more channels added as bonus. Yes, finally it is Asian Food Channel festival for yours truly.

The technician may not be impressed with my TV but he was blown away by the good cable signal we are getting. He said that compared to the many other installations he did before this, ours was way above average.

He further explained that signal strength is inversely proportional to the number of television sets connected. Ours was strong simply because this is a one television household. Others are weak because they decided to have as many viewing sets as there are people in their homes.

Listening to him talk, I can't help reflect on the possible reasons why folks would want to have so many television sets. Is it because the best viewing position, when most information is assimilated, is while the head is propped against a pillow and our back rested on our beds? I need to Google this.

Or is it because the more TV you have, the more you will be perceived as a success? Hmmm....

But as parents do we complain that our children are more interested on things other than us? Could it be because we have allowed more television set than necessary?

I have long decided that we will only have one. More TV equals more distraction and the more distracted we are, the lesser we tend to communicate with each other. It separates us, it leads to even less caring.

Indeed, one is enough. It allows the three of us to communicate, to enjoy as a family, to laugh as one, to care. Not distracted is who we are. Yes, we are having fun with one.

A Parable On Grief

A relative and her family was in deep mourning. A well loved member of their home was suddenly gone. What compounded everyone's grief was the way the beloved died. A son, for sometime, believed there was foul play and resorted to surfing the internet on ways to get back at the one he thought caused the anguish their family were then going through. Everyone was inconsolable.

A few days after the incident, we were there listening to all of them speak. Everyone has a special story to tell. It was obvious how much they cherished the presence of the deceased. Everyone wept while recalling the good times.

But before I get any further, it was not a person that died. It was their pet rabbit. And the suspect? Well, everyone believed the neighbor's cat that did it. It was, however, a theory I find deeply suspicious and was eventually quashed after hearing the complete story.

Photo Credit: Larry D. Moore

Bunny Rabbit was everybody's favorite, far more than the family's black Labrador. Bunny Rabbit entered the family after a successful school project. Everyone has grown fond of him, even Carmella herself. And as a consequence, here was one overly pampered bunny.

There was something about his cuddly nature that comforts. It must be the “Awww” factor, the one I hear from Carmella every time she sees something cute and cuddly. And even if Bunny Rabbit was getting bigger each passing day and has become messy, he still occupies a space inside the family's abode where everyone can see him from any point in the house. In his short life he never experienced spending the night outdoors.

It is no wonder then that everyone blamed the neighbor's cat for the demise of their favorite pet. The anger was so deep that someone started to Google means to get rid this supposed menace once and for all. Everyone wanted to point a finger at the reason for their pain. Everyone wanted to pass the blame.

The truth is, Bunny Rabbit died because someone decided to bring him out for a dousing of free vitamin A, inside a cage, in the middle of summer and then forgetting about the poor creature. So there it was, with no additional water and no additional food under the blazing sun the whole day. Bunny Rabbit died, not because the neighbor's cat did him in but due to heatstroke.

Still everybody insisted on blaming the neighbor's cat. The good thing was no one organized a posse to pursue the innocent suspect. It still freely roams the neighborhood to this day.

Even better, the anger and suspicion died soon after hearing my opinion on the matter. But I never heard anyone blaming themselves for their oversight.

Isn't this typical? Isn't it true that most of the time, we'd rather blame others for all the sad things happening to us than taking full responsibility for our actions? Isn't it true we'd rather accuse someone for our misfortune even if it was a consequence of our decision to remain miserable instead of choosing action and seek a better path? Isn't it true we would rather blame the causes of our addictions even if it was ourselves who willfully allowed our passions get the better of us?

Maybe it's time to stop blaming the neighbor's cat.

Purposeful Purchase

 Photo Credit: Austin Kleon

As an avid mountain biker, I am continuously awed by the leaps and bounds bike components have evolved. 21-speed was, once upon a time, more than what a mountain biker needs to get him up that hill no matter how gnarly and technical that single track is.

Considering the founding fathers of the sport started on a 1941 heavy steel framed BFGoodrich by Schwinn and running on single speed drive trains with no suspension at all except that provided by its sprung saddle and smooth balloon tires, 21-speed bikes back then was thought of as the future. That was until 24 then 27-speed drive trains arrived.

Today we either have a 30 or 20-speed drive trains as choices. This apart from the dizzying other possible upgrades on forks, shocks, wheels, hubs and so many other which qualifies more as a bling rather than a move towards pedal efficiency and all of them promising to make better mountain bikers of us.

What I personally discovered out there on the trail was what you have on your steed does not create for you a brave spirit. Engaging those ruts, roots, tight switchbacks, rock gardens, uphills and, steep drops will all depend on how big your mountain biking heart is and not whether you have a SRAM XX or a Shimano XTR.

A friend would constantly tell me that “wala sa pana iyan, nasa Indian” or loosely translated as “it is not the arrow but the archer”. I think so, too. But I also have to admit that it does provide some level of confidence having state-of-the-art working with you; like that remotely adjustable seat post for example. However, without commitment, without a biker's heart working for you specially out there on the trail, there will be no engagement and we may as well call ourselves posers and not bikers.

This brings to mind my biking mate Alex.

Alex, on the left, inside our favorite trail with Ram

If identified by the region he comes from he will surely be labeled a tightwad. But Alex has always been my mentor when it comes to purposeful purchases. He is my walking specifications expert, my component and upgrades evaluator and, my product specialist. All these qualities and more makes him someone you would want to listen to when that upgrade bug starts to work its poison in your system. He would not hesitate to give you an honest opinion complete with the necessary technical computations if need be. And yet with all his unbiased views, there are still those who insists they are thoughts of an Ilokano. Ah, it can get hilarious sometimes.

The thing that I most admire about Alex is his willingness to suggest what he loves to call as “bang for the buck” items. A Fox fork maybe the bees knees or even that XT Servo-Wave Disc Brakes. But for Alex everything is relative and whatever is efficient and gives you joy when you pedal, no matter how entry level it may be, will always be of premium value.

For example, a Duro wire beaded tire for him is of tremendous value. It may pale in comparison to a folding bead Schwalbe Nobby Nic, may cost pennies and, may be scoffed at by those who think expensive is better. But that it exceeded his expectation is good enough for Alex.

After all, what others think does not make him a less of a mountain biker nor his rig less of a mountain bike. What will happen on our next trail ride, whatever it is that we will overcome, be it our fear or that intimidating rut, or the feeling of success after conquering that drop without ever uncleating, will be a reflection of what is truly in his heart as a mountain biker. That goes for the rest of us as well, inside those trails for the sheer enjoyment of the sport we come to love.

And I just can't wait for that next time.