Adventure, Vulnerability, and Pain

Yesterday morning I was all, "Yeh! Vulnerability! That's where it's at, Baby!" ...even posted a link to a wonderful speaker giving a talk on the subject. And then I went out to live my day, and had an experience that reminded me that living vulnerably isn't always easy and it doesn't always feel so good.

As part of my quest to live expansively this year, I responded to an email that told of a trial being conducted at the nearby University in the Kinesiology and Sports Medicine Department that was seeking manual wheelchair users as participants in an experiment to measures the energy out-put expended by a chair user at different rolling speeds and on different terrains. (As a result of this research, a device may potentially become commercially available that would allow wheelchair users to measure their daily activity level much the way able-bodied people use pedometers.)

Because I've been working out for the last year, I was able to approach this opportunity with a bit of daring and confidence. I thought it would be a simple matter of rolling up and down a hallway a few times, which for somebody who rides her Nustep an hour a day and uses resistance bands, it would be a cakewalk.

When I pulled onto campus at the Health Physics building, I felt remnants of old anxiety about gym class. I sat there telling myself, "Lynna, remember this is an adventure. It's supposed to be fun. What do you need to tell yourself to reclaim that joyful sense of adventure?" For 15 minutes I simply breathed... "Breathe in Joy" "Breathe out Dread" "Breathe in love of my body" "Breathe out hatred of my body" "Breathe in Mirth" "Breathe out Anxiety" ...

That calming breathing relieved alot of my anxiety, and I had my sense of humor and adventure back when I met Scott (the PhD candidate who was doing the research) and Stacey (a grad student assistant). I did have a moment or two of thinking, "Lynna, why have you willingly submitted yourself into an environment that is so athletic. So full of people who are stunning physical specimens of athleticism. So full of young, strong, able, athletic bodies?" It was more anxiety inducing than I anticipated.

One of the preparations for the experiment included being weighed. Blessedly, they said my weight in kilograms. (I googled the conversion factor later at home where I learned that even though I haven't been weighing during my weight loss journey, I am "spot on" as to my actual weight and I'm sliding into the 100s, almost there.)

After hooking me up to a slew of monitors and strapping on a mask that covered my face from nose to chin to measure CO2 output(I felt like I was being prepared for a space shuttle launch), we headed outdoors for the building where we would conduct the trial. I was so intent on wheeling across the bumpy terrain, negotiating street crossings, etc. that I was completely oblivious to the fact that I was on a university campus wearing a face mask in a wheelchair. I have no clue if people stared or if they even noticed. Interesting.

When we arrived at the athletic center, I learned that we would conduct three indoor trials. I was asked to maintain a constant speed circling the hallway for 8 minutes. I'm not used to pushing my wheelchair using the outer rim only, (I push against the rubber tire, too), but the experimental data required all the force to be against the outer rim. During the first trial, I was concentrating so hard on going the correct and steady speed while wheeling correctly that I unknowingly rubbed the skin of both thumbs against the rubber tires and rubbed away enough tissue that it was bleeding.

I joked about being willing to bleed for the sake of science, and we began the next trial at an increased speed. Interestingly, a group of about 50 ROTC students had assembled in part of the hallway for a drill, and we had to pass by them as I wheeled harder and faster, huffing and puffing in my sexy face mask. Fun.

Scott suggested we skip the third and fastest indoor trial (perhaps realizing that the highest speed would exceed my ability, and we set out for the outdoor running track about a block away. With its rubberized surface, it would provide additional data regarding increased energy out-out against more resistance. Within twenty seconds on the track, however, we realized I did not have the strength to complete that trial at the speed for which it had been designed.

We headed back to the office, and I felt how I used to feel in gym class when I gave my best effort, but still fell short... ashamed, inadequate and weak. Back at the office, I disengaged of all the monitors and Scott cleaned and bandaged my wounds. I was being paid a small stipend for my participation, and I joked that was the going rate for donating a pound of flesh. Fortunately, the data obtained during the first two trials was useful, so all was not in vain. (That was salve on my guilt of not contributing what was expected or hoped.)

This morning, as I'm reflecting on yesterday's experience, I realize that there is wisdom to be gained from this.

Adventure can be painful, and it's usually not what we expect it will be.
Even when it's not what we expect it will be, it can be valuable.
I'm not as fit as I thought I was, but now I have a much better benchmark against which to measure future gains in fitness. (One day I may be able to wheel around that track even faster and longer than the trial parameters.)
I need to alternate my Nustep work with outside exercise in my wheelchair. Scott used the term "specificity of activity"... if I want to be competent and athletic rolling my chair... well... simply, I need to practice rolling my chair. The river pathway would be the perfect place to do that... nice, level terrain in a gorgeous setting. (Twice a week to start...)
Stacy showed me more resistance band exercises and I am incorporating them into my routine.
I'm emotionally healthy enough to roll around on a campus in a goofy looking mask. (How many people have the self-esteem to do that!)
Sometimes pushing yourself to do something that feels awkward is a win.
If you take a risk and fail, it's still a win.
This adventure was definitely a win, and I'm so glad I did it, even if my arms are aching, and my thumbs will take a few days to heal.

I love this goal of mine to try different, wacky, out of the box adventures at least once a month in 2011. I love stretching myself and reaching for new horizons. Good stuff, even if it can be a little bit painful or uncomfortable at times.