Where I Haven't Been ...

It's been some time since I've made an entry to my blog, and that time has been full of upheaval and big decisions.
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First I aggravated the sacro-iliac part of my back -- both sides (don't ever do things small, right?) It hasn't really improved. Instead I have modified what I do and how I do it. Fortunately it tells me *exactly* what it will and will not tolerate. This has been going on since ... last August.

What it will and will not tolerate is decidedly weird. I can help a friend up a mast with no problems at all as long as I keep my back straight. However, bending over slightly to fold my laundry causes marked discomfort. As a result, I have to send my laundry out.

But -- if I can help hoist someone up a mast, I can sail, right? Yes, I can, thank goodness. And the knee I sprained right before Christmas has finally healed, and that is no longer an obstacle. Sailing on the boat -- yes. Living on the boat, no. The configuration of the interior of my boat allows for lots of storage -- as long as you can stoop, bend and lift while twisting. Which makes my back holler.

In addition there seems to be no pain medication I can take except for aspirin, and as we have become more aware of the dangers of aspirin (and having had a husband who landed in the hospital for five days over a baby aspirin daily), I'm not really keen on gobbling aspirin like candy. As it turns out I don't tolerate NSAIDS, and anything related to codeine makes me ... vomit. So ... I have to obey the back.

The sacro-iliac, I have learned, is a strange little joint. It barely moves. Its location is where the very bottom of the spine meets the pelvis, and it seems to be connected to, well, everything else in the back. It can cause pain in your hips, down your thighs, across the small of your back and up both sides like bolts of lightning. As I said, obey the back.

So, I am announcing here that I am moving off the boat. I'm not distressed by this turn of events, because I got to live on her for three and one-half years. I've had experiences and adventures that I couldn't even imagine ten years ago. I started sailing when I was 62. I didn't have to have that opportunity and I most certainly was never guaranteed the experiences that followed.

I won't stop sailing, of course. I hope to do plenty of sailing on friends' boats. I intend to ply them with beer, and wine, and rum, and escargot if that's what it takes, but I don't expect to stop sailing.

What I'm saying is that just because an adventure may eventually end does not mean that you should not risk anything. When I started on this adventure I knew it would have to end eventually. In fact, that's why I moved on board, shortly before my 65th birthday. I had already survived breast cancer, and it occurred to me: "What are you waiting for? Another medical emergency? Will you be more ready for this afte you've broken a hip or had a stroke?"

None of us know how many days we will have in this life. A refrigerator could fall on me tomorrow. If it does, that calamity will happen whether or not I made it a point to do some of the things I really, really wanted to do first. I've said this before: I'm not saying to be foolish. I'm not advocating what the young couple from California did, recently -- attempt to sail around the world with an inadequately equipped boat (or they would have had a backup steering plan), an apparent inability to make simple repairs to their engine, and with a 1 year old and 3 year old in tow. (Small children, once they get sick, can get very sick extremely fast. Having experienced that with one of my children, I would never take a small child into what amounts to a wilderness, far away from first-rate medical care.)

I'm not suggesting people cash in their retirement plans, quit their jobs and buy a boat. But if you're smart, you can start on a plan toward such a goal. Start building your sailing skills. You've heard me say this before, too -- go out there and sail, but each time you do, practice something that clearly expands your skills. Try steering your boat with a couple of drogues, or go out on a slightly rougher day than you're used to with your sails reefed and increase your heavy weather skills. Or go out for five days instead of two days. Go someplace new.

Build your experience -- not just time over water, which doesn't count for anything unless you're decreasing the mistakes you make and increasing your expertise. If you race, don't always race, because the things you do while racing won't be the things you do in a storm. Use your chart plotter, but use a bearing compass, a chart, and that log you've been keeping (right?) and make your best estimate first. Then use the chart plotter to confirm.

Take a class in meteorology. Do everything you can to get as well prepared as you can, but for heaven's sake don't make it all book-learning. Even if all you can afford is a little 12' dinghy, get a boat and sail it.

I think I've done pretty well for the short amount of time I've had to learn, but keep in mind that I was retired and could take my boat out any time I wanted. I got in lots and lots of sailing time because I could go any time I wanted. You probably have a job spouse, children, all making demands on your time. Be creative and look for ways to make this hobby something your family enjoys with you, and you'll get to do it more.

Don't be sad for me, because I'm not sad about this. Living aboard the boat has been a delight (it's been very windy tonight, and the boat has been rockin' and rollin' and I AM going to miss that!), but I'll still be able to sail.

The truth is that the day will *also* come when I can't safely sail, and I'm not sure how I'll deal with that, but moving off the boat is not a crisis. It's just another change. I was lucky to find BCYC and extremely fortunate to get to do what I have done. Just keep in mind that you aren't guaranteed good health by the time you retire, and ... be sure you enjoy the now while you're planning for the future.