First Descents: Graduation Day Part 2: Onward & Upward

“Real friends are very special, but you have to be careful because sometimes you have a friend and you think they are made of rock, then suddenly you realise they're only made of sand.”
- Maria Callas

I wasn't expecting the burn. No, my muscles weren't burning, nor was my skin burning. It was my shins and calves. They were scorching with pain as I scraped the flesh off bit by bit against the rock. I hear some of my friends referring to it as the "cheese grater." But I have no choice - my legs are so much thicker, and carrying a much greater burden that I have to use every inch of flesh on them in the climb - whether it be kneeling and pulling my way up, dragging the skin against the rough surface of rock, or standing up straight, allowing the razor to shred skin off. I wince with every maneuver, but there is no choice. I must go up.

By now, we're between one third to halfway up the rock. We climb section by section in a rotation - grey ropes first, red ropes second, green ropes third, purple rope last. I'm the first red rope - red stripe - so I'm the third to climb each section. Some sections go smoothly and swiftly - my climbing skills have increased since Day 1, and I'm not afraid of any of these rocks. Some I struggle with, requiring McStillin to boost me by either placing a foot or two onto an invisible foothold while I concentrate on holding my body up over a ledge or by, gawd bless him, using his hands to shove my sorry ass over a hump in the rock.

At the moment, there is a pine tree whose wiry roots have woven a nest for itself in the crease of the rock. A light purple rope with loops tied into it every few inches dangling my way, hanging off the tree. A teal mesh ladder hangs down from the tree as well, and my left foot is trying to stabilize itself. The ladder is loose - closer to a net, so my weakened ankles keep rolling from one side to the other, putting me at the risk of a sprain or worse every time I put pressure on it. Poor McStillin, whose nose, I'm quite certain, is halfway into my anus, is trying to position my foot in such a way to prevent that rolling so I can take the pressure off my forearms, now mantling this ledge.

"I think this counts as our third date, McStillin."

"Yep."

"Am I good to go?"

"I think so. On the count of three. 1... 2... 3..."

I stand on my left, slowly, feeling another ribbon of skin tearing off my leg and I place my right foot next to my right hand, allowing me to take my right hand and wrap it around the purple rope in between loops. In my mind, I repeat, "Happy little tree!" as I watch the pine tree ache, with roots quivering, and tiny bits of grit sliding my way. I drag my left leg up in a similar fashion, and I reach up, over several loops knowing that the rope will give a bit, and pull with every inch of my body. Little Bits stands over me, cheering me on, and I see Spare Parts pacing, in what appears to be impatience, looking over the rocks above me, his jowls taught until he retreats back to the cluster of ropes. In one move, I swing my left arm around the base of the pine tree, dislodge my left foot from the ladder, swing my right arm around the tree, and schmear my right foot while my left foot flattens against the rock. I rise, standing, and I hear some clapping.

"Yeah, Hit 'n' Run! Yeah!"

"Whoop, whoop!"

"Thank you, little tree," and I lean over and hug the tree. I toe my way to the left, then up, then to the right and join Mermaid, Hot Pink & Spare Parts. At this point, despite the slightly mirrored lenses he wore, you could see the ballet of multicolored ropes Spare Parts is choreographing in his mind as each climber, associated with yet another rope in his tangle of ropes and caribiners, makes progress up the rock. McStillin comes up next, and he tells him to go under one rope, stand over another, untwist another pair of ropes, and then help belay so he can get ready to set up the next climb.

I apologize again to my new boyfriend, McStillin (after all, I think it's safe to say that after our third date, we're exclusive), for making him have to shove his hands into the bulbous mass of my ass. He laughs, shakes his head, and says it's a pleasure. I purr and tell him I look forward to our fourth date, but I think I have to introduce him to my parents next. Lilac crests the rock next, and Spare Parts bounds down, shouting placement instructions to Lilac and McStillin. Lilac and McStillin dance around the ropes until they take their places.

I sit back, and find I'm still struggling to breathe. Could the chemo have caused this much damage to my lungs? This week, surely, has tested my aerobic threshold more than anything since last October, but this is absurd. My concern grows as I feel that rattle that my son gets when he's on the verge of a major asthma attack. Earlier in the ascent, McStillin took my backpack with his, and he's in the middle of some double-belaying - I can't ask him to give me my pack yet. Unfortunately, that means no water. I close my eyes and try and slow down my breathing - in through the nose, out through the mouth.

I clap and cheer folks on as they tumble over the last ledge, regroup, and get ready for the next ascent. Little Bits, already anticipating my need for the ladder, sets it up. Mermaid & Hot Pink head up - I see Hot Pinks delicate hands and feet start to quake - she's starting to fatigue on her right side. I cheer her on, even giving her butt cheek a boost McStillin style. She and I have a lot in common, not the least of which is that we're the most recently out of treatment. Hot Pink's hair is a little bit farther behind mine in progress of regrowth, but we're both still feeling the effects of chemo. It wasn't until this trip, actually, that I'd realized I was still recovering - I mean, I knew it would take a full year for the toxins to leave my body, and that the weight gained during chemo would take a while, but this is different. I think there was a mutual empathy at the realization that our hairstyles were not lifestyle choices, but still the aftereffects of a battle thrust upon us, ready or not.

That's kind of how I was feeling on this trip at times - that there were challenges thrust upon me, ready or not. The difference was that I invited this adventure, barbs and all. I was not, however, thrilled with this breathing situation.

The next ledge was deceptively tricky. I literally held myself up by the boobs (the real testament to Dr. Nordberg's skills - would they, literally, hold up?). You see, my fingers slipped from the handholds, my feet couldn't find anything to grip, and the rope had gotten tangled and caught in a crevice in the rock. So I hung by the tatas. (Good thing they are silicone - good grip!)

"McStillin - Time for date number four!" and, without missing a beat, he was there, helping me get my feet into a place from which I could boost myself up, grabbing onto the purple knotted rope and hoisting my sorry ass over this ledge. I crawled up, yay more grated skin, and got to the next climb. There was Spare Parts, pacing, muttering, grumbling in between the rocks, but I also saw some of the other gals from another group! We were nearing the top and regrouping! Cool! They were sitting, backs against a large rock, relaxing. Sidetrack was there... Three J... and I think Snapjacks?

I don't even bother telling Spare Parts that I'm climbing at this point - he seems to know that as soon as one rope quivers, it's time to tighten the slack. Besides, I keep getting that command wrong. "Red rope climbing... er... red stripe... on belay? Oh, hell, I'm coming up, Parts!" is usually all that I ended up blurting out. This climb was easy except for the last bit. I pull myself up, must have looked a bit like Kilroy, and no one is paying attention.

"Hellooooooo? What's next?" Nothing. I shrug (at least in my head, I'm a little occupied,) and I climb over the last bit, sitting in the clearing. I look over and see Whatevs and Three J kind of meditating on this landing they found, Sidetrack bubbling as usual with Hot Pink, and I realize I'm hungry. And thirsty. McStillin comes over and I ask if, for our fifth date, he can take me out to lunch. He gets my backpack out of his and I pull out my cheese sandwich and apple and my water bottle. I scarf down the sandwich, despite the near choking I experience as I literally inhaled my food, start drinking (but it's not going down), and pull out my apple. I'm feeling good - quite good - despite the trickles of blood dripping down my legs. But that's no biggie, despite the gawks I get from the others. I tell them the truth - that I'm so used to bleeding that I don't even notice anymore. (Like, at the beginning, when Ranier insisted on putting a band-aid on the first cut. I laughed and told her it wouldn't be the last and that it wasn't worth it.)

I'm just about to have something to drink and eat my apple when we're told to get up and keep moving. We look off to the distance and we see that strange grey streaking in the sky - there's rain in the mountains. (I'd never seen anything like that before this trip. I'd seen rain clouds - heavy, dark, pregnant with rain, but I'd never seen what it looks like with the clouds birth the sheets of rain of a storm). Where there's rain, there's going to be thunder and lightning. I reluctantly close up my water bottle, of which I've had 1 or 2 swigs at the max, pack that and the remaining lunch back into my backpack and McStillin snatches it away. I do decide I am going to keep my apple, so I start eating it as we casually walk on some soft ground towards the next bit of climbing. This doesn't look too bad at all, with the exception of a short slope around a tree - there are two paths to take - one to the left and one to the right of the tree's girth. The more advanced team is going on the right, whereas Parts & Bits have laid our ropes to the left. From where I stand, the right looks easier, but I've learned to take their words for it.

Soon enough, it's my turn. I already have my fair share of pine tree sap globules clinging to me, including a nice blob on my ass, so it's no surprise that I now have some under my breasts, where I had to wrap both arms around the stump jutting out of the side of the rock, as I climbed my way past the tree. I realized this is the closest I'd ever gotten to climbing a tree when I use that same stump as a boost up the rock. Now, I'm in familiar territory. It's an oversized rock garden - no biggie - I just have to pick which rocks to use as my steps. I hope from rock top to rock top in ascension with as little struggle as I would on a water hike at camp, going from one dry rock top to another, crossing this invisible river of mountain air.

Finally, as I reach the last wall of rock to climb over, I peer over and see Spare Parts, who is encouraging me, (I hear Little Bits also sounding surprised at my agility in this last bit), and a few more folks from other teams. This is the top. I've done it. I was elated, or at least I should have been, but once I get to the peak, something is off. I'm woozy. I'm cold. I'm coughing. I'm shaky. I'm quivering.

Which is just plain stupid. I reach into my backpack to get my 2011 LIVESTRONG Ride for the Roses pullover jacket, and in horror, I realize I left it in the van. My breathing feels so labored, but I'm not tired - yes, I worked out, but I didn't work out. It has to be the altitude - there is no other reason for this. I shake as I pull on the long-sleeved dri-fit top I threw in my pack for some protection as the cold rain starts. I'm not in a good way. I make my way down some rocks to sit, and I try and find something to eat that I find appetizing, but nothing really appeals to me. I look to my right, and I see Spare Parts setting up the rappel.

CRAP! I'd forgotten about the rappel back down! Ugh.

I see folks starting to line up. I look up to Lilac and say, "So this is how a lemming feels..." No response. Oh, dear. I've lost my funny.

A couple of people get hooked up and repel down. I'm not even sure who, because I'm distracted by Little Bits making direct eye contact with me and drawing me to him with his index finger. In true Hollywood fashion, I look around me to see who he's looking at, point at myself with a quizzical look on my face (like I didn't already know the answer), and ask, "Me?" Little Bits nods and my heart jumps out of my chest, through my throat, and into next week.

"Dead Man Walking," I say to myself in my head as I walk past these well-meaning individuals cheering me on. Two Dogs, our camp dad, is suiting up. He's supposed to go down along with me. It's a blur of flesh tones and identical shoes until I am nearly blinded by the glimmer of light beaming from Spare Part's grin. I can't tell if this is meant to be reassuring, or his sadism creeping through as he is about to spin me down another rappel. My heart has returned to its home, beating like a hummingbird's wings and I feel all the blood rush to my fingertips. I have a sudden urge to poo. I start quivering, ever so slightly, from my bowels to my chest. My hairs stand on edge.

Little Bits puts his hand gently, reassuringly, on my shoulder, and it feels as though he's Freddy Kruger digging razorblades into my flesh, as he asks if I'm ready to do this. Through a clenched jaw, I say, "Not really." He smiles - he's such a kind soul, he's trying so hard to make this easy for me - and says it's ok, that I can trust them, it's going to be great, etc. I grit my teeth harder, which I think is mistaken for a smile, and I get the sensation that all of my inner organs have just been swallowed up by a black hole and are no longer in my body. At this point, the body quake is slowly making its way through my pelvis and shoulders. My clavicle is chattering. Before I know what's happening, Spare Parts and Little Bits have me clipped into things, I'm attached to something else, and McStillin is there.  I just keep looking at the rope, onto which my fingers are wrapped like wires melding into a tree they were wrapped around for too long. I hear voices, but they aren't making sense. I just see the rough, multicolored textures of the granite slabs I'm on and that are surrounding me. The sun must have come out, because things are more golden and less steely now.

I hear Little Bits tell me to walk backwards. I take a step back. It's a decent step - a good 4 inches. I think he wraps an arm around my shoulder - I'm not sure - as now all of my skin is as numb as the tissue now enveloping the silicone implants - I can feel a semblance of pressure, but not much else. More words of encouragement, now coming from all directions, but I can't really tell which direction I'm in. McStillin's face comes into focus, and just behind his is Spare Parts, who, for the first time since I've met him, shows a bit of concern - the cockiness has fallen away. I feel a spin coming on as something starts dropping onto my lips, my chest, and sounds come out of my mouth that I can't recognize. The saltiness tells me that I'm now crying, and I don't know what I'm saying - I'm deafened by the silent spin I feel. My feet - I focus on my feet, which feel like they are filled with lead, and all I can manage to do as I near the edge is shuffle backwards 1 inch.... half an inch... maybe a quarter inch... are they moving at all? Have my feet melded into the rock? Voices are getting louder, and I just get more and more confused.

"NO!" Did I just shout that? "I can't! I can't! I can't do it!"

Who the hell said that? It must have been me, because now there are shadows coming around me, telling me I can, that it won't be so bad... and that's when the burning from the black hole of my bowel starts to surge upwards. There's a rush of nothing good. I feel like I'm going to choke. I don't know if I'm crying or screaming or silent, but all I know is that the next thing I'm off the ledge, with Snapjacks by my side, the monkey, which had been attached to my harness all day, in my hand, shaking.

My brain is still in slow motion, processing what happened moments prior to me being back in the clearing - I just now hear Little Bits say, "If you promise to go the next time it's your turn, we'll let you get off now." I think I said that I would. Shit. What was I thinking? Oh my G-d, I did - I promised him - I looked him in the eye... oh no... I scramble to get up as I start to cough and cough. I can't breathe and I start to heave. Snapjacks holds me as I throw up invisible rivers of fire, phlegm, apple, my sandwich, and water in between a few rocks and some bushes.

I need to lie down. I am having the most horrible out-of-body experience I've had. I can't make sense of where I am or what's happening.

Things start to come into focus a bit more. I'm lying down, sideways, on a rock. It's not comfortable. Snapjacks is off to the side. The guides are by the ledge. I feel the sun on my face. I feel like I've been punched in the gut by The Thing over and over and over again. I think I'm still breathing, but it hurts when I do.

I can't remember if I get up on my own or at the prompting of someone else, but I manage to stand. When I become aware of what's still ahead of me, the heaving begins again. I'm then reminded of my promise. Snapjacks offers to go down with me, and I shake my head. She can't handle this.

I overhear voices... "panic... threw up... not good... only way... " and I don't like any way those words and phrases can be pieced together. My head feels like it weighs 500 pounds. Little Bits tells me it's time, and like the bobble head that I feel like, I start to walk over. Spare Parts now has his sunglasses off, and I can see in his eyes his dry humor is nowhere in sight - he's got his game face on. This is serious. Little Bits light eyes are glistening, and his brow is furrowed in thought. Two Dogs isn't there - he must have gone down before me.

I have McStillin on one side and Little Bits on the other, and I become aware of ropes connecting the three of us. That fine line between reality and fantasy blurs again and I think someone explains they are both going with me - one in front, one in back. I don't remember the purpose. Spare Parts is belaying us down. I think I'm nodding in response to something, but I'm not sure. Everything goes numb again. I start walking backwards. At least I think I am.

And then there's a tug at my back. Like someone is pulling my underwear towards them. I scream - I don't even know what. Another tug, and now I am nothing but a giant reflex. I plant my feet, drop my weight, and lean forward as hard as I can. There's more tugging, and I lunge for a hole at the tips of my toes. I dig my fingertips as deeply as I can and pull. More tugging and yanking. I'm screaming, "NO!" at the top of my lungs.

Body weight on me. I'm completely helpless under him. My shoulders are pinned. I'm screaming and nothing is happening. His hand is over my mouth and no one can hear me. I can't breathe and my mind escapes through the ceiling of my dorm room.

Wait. What the fuck was that? I'm holding onto this rock, but my finger tips begin to slip. I leap forward, chest first, at another rock, and I am able to wrap my arms around it completely, almost locking my fingers together. There's another strong pull from the back. Men's voices are shouting.

Each one has a limb - one has a leg, another has an arm, a third has my other leg and a fourth has my other arm. They are pulling me down, forcing me onto a gurney. One comes out of nowhere with straps and buckles.

I get dizzy and I'm back in that dorm room, his shadowy figure above, with no air for me to breathe. I can't believe I've been overtaken. I've never met anyone from whom I couldn't wrestle away. But he's so overwhelmingly strong. Am I even fighting him? Everything goes black.

"We're so sorry - it's the only way to get you down!"

"Please trust us!"

The sun is on my face, drying the water streaming, but the screams aren't stopping. "NO!"

I press my cheek into the rock. I don't care if I shred my face, I'm not being forced into this.

The officer tries to swipe my legs out from under me. I outmaneuver him. Another officer comes from the side, but all I can do is break free. Four in all are keeping me from that bridge. I'm stronger than this. I've taken greater than this. I'm jumping off that bridge if it's the last thing I do. Two on each side, and I'm the Incredible Hulk, dragging them along towards the edge. I just want to go over. I just want to fall. Metal snaps and my wrists are being cut to shreds.

"I SAID NO!" I screamed, as I hear the metal of the caribiners rubbing against the rock, and the tugging continues around my waist. To my right is a small hole between the rocks. I slide, as though it weren't gnarled chunks of rock I'm slipping my already torn up legs through, but a child's water slide. I wedge myself in and find another rock to hold tight.

I just want to die. He kicked me out of his house. Of his life. Despite his protests that it will just be a matter of time, I know. I know it will never happen again, in my gut. I'll never speak to him again, rather, he'll never speak to me. Our friendship is over. The man who taught me so many years ago the mantra that kept me moving forward through so much, "Trust your feet," who had become one of my closest friends, who promised to never break our friendship, broke every promise. He broke everything. He shattered my trust over nothing. And he was so "over it" that his eyes were cold and callous. Those same eyes that made me feel safe time and time again were full of vitriol and hate. I was done. I just got so foggy...  

I didn't really want to die. But I didn't want to disappoint him. But I sure as hell didn't want to die right now. And jumping off that ledge? It's suicide. It's the bridge. It's that night. No. I can't face what I was going to do. I don't want to die anymore.

 These men are holding me down, forcing me in the direction they want. It has taken more than one to do it, but I'm yielding despite every inclination I have. Every muscle in my body is lurching forward, but theirs are heavier and greater than mine. Darkness.

I won't be overtaken.

I can smell the vodka. And who knows what else. I can feel the palms of his hands forcing my shoulders down. He seems to have grown 3 feet and 1,200 pounds since we met at the bar. I can't move. I can't budge. Every attempt to break lose forces him to cause me more pain. Every wriggle yields a new punishment.

"I SAID NO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

And it stopped. It all stops. There is no pulling at my waist. There is no more talking. No more dizziness. No one is moving. I look up, and McStillin, Little Bits and Spare Parts are motionless, frozen in their position with my blood curdling exclamation. For the first time in what feels like hours, my shoulders relax.

"Ok."

"What?"

"Ok. We're stopping."

"Ok. You'll stop pulling me?"

"Yes."

"Ok."

Shaking, spent, exhausted, I ease my way out of my retreat and slump over the rocks. I overhear them, "Can we sedate her?"

"Do we have any medication or something?"

"No, we don't."

"Is there something we can give her?"

"No, nothing."

"There's only one way down."

"I know."

I pant on the rocks.

Little Bits comes over and says, "Look, if we could get you down any other way, we would."

McStillin apologizes, "We didn't want to force you over, but we really didn't have much of a choice - it's actually the safest, and fastest way back down."

"The alternative makes no sense," Spare Parts continues, "We could call for rescue, but it would take hours, cost thousands, and all they'll do is have a net and you'll still be rappelled down the side. That's going to be worse"

I look at all of them, broken, and just say, "But that's not going to happen."

There's an unpleasant silence as we see a flash of lightning.

We really do have to get moving.

"Can't you just let me walk back down?"

"No," all three in unison say.

"Why not?"

"Because," Little Bits explains, "there's no other way down, except the way that you came."

"Ok."

"'Ok,' what?"

"Let me go down the way I came up."

"That's crazy."

"Why? I know the way... I did it once before going up. Going down would be easier!"

Little Bits, the most experienced answers, "Don't you remember how hard you struggled on the way up?"

"Yeah."

McStillin chimes in, "All those boosts you needed from me?"

"Yeah."

Spare Parts looks me in the eye for what seemed to be an eternity, saying nothing, like he'd just discovered a wounded deer in the forest and he was having a connection with its soul. He closes his eyes, nods, looks at Little Bits and says, "Ok."

I hear whispering, and I think another guide is there, and the group comes back.

Little Bits explains, "Here's the deal. We're going to climb down the way we came. There will be some rappelling down, but nothing like this. This is so much harder than just rappelling down. Are you sure about this?"

Feeling like a child who was just given the most shiny, expensive, perfect toy in the world, I giddily respond, "YES!"

I really don't think that the guides, or McStillin, know what to do with me, but we start off. I feel like I have sea legs, like they aren't really worthy of standing, but the adrenaline from the joy of knowing I don't have to rappel down that cliff is enough to keep me going.

"Parts, hang on. How are you going to belay me? You way nothing."

"Don't worry about it."

There's a moment when the other guys are conversing and it's just me and Spare Parts.

"You really weren't going down that edge, were you."

"No."

"You're bad ass."

"Why?"

"We're climbing down this thing. I've got you, you know that, right?"

"Yep."

"Ok."

I start down the rocks, and I'm feeling much greater tightness in the rope now than before I went up.

"Spare Parts, a little slack?"

"I'm keeping you tight to the rock."

"Yeah, I know, but I kinda can't move or breathe!"

Spare Parts loosens the rope a bit, and I'm scurrying down over the overgrown rock garden, through the first landing, and down another bit of rocks. The guides catch up and look at me like I have three heads. I don't know if they think I had faked everything at the top of the rock (which, believe you me, I hadn't) or if I'm completely insane. But they're all pretty happy I'm moving. We get to the tree with the two paths.

"McStillin, Little Bits - which side should I go down?"

"I'll go down first and then help you," McStillin answers. He goes down and helps me get down along the right. A few more crab walks and Again shows up out of nowhere from around a rock. I guess some of the whispering included a phone call to the other guides. I start down towards where we'd climbed, and Again says, "Let's take this way."

Uh, excuse me, Again, but you're late to the party. The theme is "Go Down Something I've Gone Down Before," not, "New Territory."

"Trust me, this way is faster. Look, you'll have to rappel some of this either way, and it's about the same distance down this way, but it will save time. We really have to move."

I nod (I think to the surprise of everyone), and I turn towards the rock. I look up to make sure Spare Parts is ready.

Intensely, he looks at me and says, "Look me in the eyes." I do - there is no breaking that gaze. "I have you. I am not going to let you fall. Give your heart to the skies." I nod. "Now, just look at me - don't take your eyes off mine." I nod, as though in a trance.

Staring at him, I lean back into a sit position, and I feel my harness change from a restraint into a comfortable seat. I hop back and feel myself drop. I move my feet downward, looking Parts in the eyes the whole time, and move down the rock. As he falls farther and farther away, I lower my feet and I'm on the ground. Done.

Spare Parts flashes his signature smile, Again, Little Bits and McStillin have a nervous chuckle and clap and cheer me on.

All of a sudden, I hear a chorus of, "Whoop whoops" and applause. I turn around and look down. In the distance, the entire First Descents camp is watching the show. I grab the monkey off my butt and wave him in the air, returning the, "Whoop-whoop!" battle cry.

The rest of the guides come down and we continue on, only with this next rappel, I immediately lean back, no hesitation, staring at Spare Parts, and wave the monkey. We keep moving, and before any of us know it, Glass holds a tray of cupcakes with one left.

"We saved it for you."

I made it down. The guides come down after me, and I just hug them all. Parts comes up and says, "Ok, we'll ease you down the rest of the way."

"Parts, as much as I genuinely enjoy being  tied up to you, I don't think it's necessary."

"Ok, you can clip out."

"Nah... I kinda like you leading me along by a leash." I wink at him and we make it down to the vans together.

Those men, those amazing men - Little Bits, Spare Parts, McStillin and Again - have no clue (until now) of what kind of a panic attack they were dealing with at the top of that rock. I'm still processing it myself. Perhaps that's why they seemed a bit surprised at how grateful I was to them at the end of the day.

When the four of us got together for a picture after dinner, I held them all and said, "I don't know what I'm going to do when I get home without you three. You're my heroes."

I hope, someday, they'll understand in how many ways I mean that. And how, strangely, this particular climb was meant to conquer issues remaining from cancer, but, in my case, attacked fears that long pre-existed cancer.

First Descents: Graduation Day Part I: The Lead Up

A rock pile ceases to be a rock pile the moment a single man contemplates it, bearing within him the image of a cathedral.

 - Antoine de Saint-Exupery

I opened my eyes to a blur of tan fuzz, a little grey furry face next to mine, warm toes, and chatter. It was too early. It was dark. There were cups clinking. I pulled the beige blanket from over my head revealing the monkey doll tucked under my chin and sat up in the recliner chair in front of the fireplace on the main level of the ranch. I tried to sleep in the sofa bed in the loft, but I just couldn't sleep for more than 10 minutes at a time. I thought that perhaps the World's Most Comfortable Piece of Furniture could help me sleep better. If sleeping 30 minutes at a time was an improvement, then G-d Bless. The hot tub had me feeling relaxed, even if my REM quota was severely lacking.

I head up to the loft to grab my towel, toiletries and my clothes and shower up downstairs. The crust tightening my skin from the hot tub the night before washes off down the drain, and I try and relax my muscles. I don't know what I'm going up against. All I know is that I keep hearing the words, "epic," "challenge," "ridiculous," and did I mention, "epic?" being used to describe the event today. These are words best used to describe mountain stages of the Tour de France and the Giro d'Italia, not a rock climb. In my simple mind, that's like taking me, simple bike commuter, on my pink hybrid and putting me on the Alpe d'Huez. I rinse the thought from my mind as I rinse the conditioner from my hair and I get out of the shower, get dressed, and head into the dining room.

I layer my bowl as I do at the office - nuts, raisins and a dash of sweetener first, a scoop of oatmeal, another layer of nuts, raisins, fruit and sweetener, more oatmeal, and a topping of fruit, nuts and sweetener. While getting my coffee, I let the oatmeal sit and steam cook the fruit, making the raisins blossom and mel the sweetener into a river running through the layers in the bowl.

I pull out my laptop for two reasons: 1) I have to see what this Castle Rock hoopla is all about and 2) I make a last ditched effort for some green/yellow courage - a plea for some donations to my LIVESTRONG account, so I have some accountability preventing me from quitting. Little Bits comes over and sits next to me. I can see as I tell him that I'm looking for photos of Castle Rock to get an idea of what I'm going up against that he's debating whether or not to help me confirm which photos are accurate. He's gotten to know me well enough to know that surprises don't suit me well, and that I need time to let my head wrap around the challenge, absorb it, and start to break it down. We look at some of the photos, and, of course, I first see a photo of some spider-like human defying gravity by climbing upside down under a ledge. I raise an eyebrow, look at Little Bits and do nothing but point at the screen before he turns it back to me and says, "You won't be climbing that side of the Castle." I nod and keep looking. Apparently, there weren't too many photos of the exact course that the team I would be on would be climbing. Little Bits reassures me that he and the others are also going to use some "aided climbing" techniques and tools vs. the free climbing we'd been doing. He had some mesh netting/ladder type items, some ropes that we can hoist ourselves up with and some other tricks. I roll my eyes and regret all those times Mr. Festo at Bi-Cultural Day School tried to get me to push harder climbing up the ropes during the stupid President's Physical Fitness Challenges during the Reagan years and shrugging them off to move onto shooting baskets.

I post a harried blog with some photos of what Bits confirms we'll be working on, I close the computer, and eat my breakfast. I'm going to need to fuel up.

We have a good hour-long drive ahead of us, so I pack up my copy of The Shining that I'd picked up from The Stanley Hotel (much slower read than the Hunger Games books), my iPod, which I've decided will be my secret weapon, a simple lunch and my 3 water bottles. We head out to the vans and I try and get myself pumped. I listen to my "Riding" mix - complete with Eminem, Metallica, Kelly Clarkson, Gaga, Madonna, etc. When I find that my little Nano cannot compete with the satellite radio that McStillin & Hot Pink have playing, I yield to what they are playing (everything from Elvis to Top 40 to Hip Hop to Willy Nelson) and try reading The Shining.

Looka dat face! What a shayna punim!

In the meantime, Spare Parts, that stoic, icy, strongman who bears an unnerving resemblance in physique, attitude and humor to that old friend who first told me to trust my feet, is not doing well. He's sitting next to me, in the middle aisle of the mini-van, looking somewhat squeamish. He explains that he gets car sick. Part of me cannot help but laugh a little - here's a guy that I could envision hiking Kilamanjaro in a pair of Birkenstocks, a parka, a pair of jeans and a single Clif Bar because he's such a badass, and he's getting nauseous in the minivan. I smile and offer him some mint gum, which I hoped would ease his stomach. I then joke with him, letting him know that no matter where he is on the rock, again, if something goes wrong, I will blame him. It will all be his fault. I will curse his name. He laughs, with those deep, sun-bronzed dimples turning his chiseled, taught tanned cheeks into ravines of chuckles, his white teeth shining with what I swear was that superhero twinkle on the front tooth, making his eyes bug out a little more than usual. The smug son-of-a-bitch can turn from cold and too-cool-for-school to all-American-boy in a second. Ya gotta love the guy. I guess my gesture towards a truce breaks him down a little more, and he passes me a slip of paper. I cannot understand what the hell all these cryptic scribbles mean until I realize he's showing me his team list - he and Little Bits have me on their team along with Hot Pink, Lilac, High Five, Ranier, McStillin and Mermaid. The preview was well-received - what a cool crew to be with!

Some backseat driving and smacktalk later, and we're making a quick pit stop in Nederland, Spare Parts' former stomping ground. We wait in line to use the bathroom when I notice this gas station offers more water pipes than any head shop I'd ever seen in Manhattan. Impressive, but not terribly surprising. We do what the guides advised us to do all day yesterday and this morning - try and evacuate everything you can - once we were on the rock, there really wasn't anyplace to go.

We reclaim our seats in the van and take off. In a flash, we are pulling into a dirt road and on one side of us, there is a river, on the other a rock. And another rock. And another rock.

OMG.

The Castle.

The phrease "Holy Sh*t Balls" comes to mind. 

Prepping to climb, realizing this other group (upper left) claimed what was originally supposed to be one of our climbs.
Stupid tourists....

The guides making sure they didn't forget anything. I sure hope Spare Parts can count...

Part II coming....

First Descents Day 3: So, this is what you call a "Rest Day?"

Yoga is not my friend. It never has been. In my mind's eye, it would go something like this:

Or this:

So why, after knocking over co-workers at Cendant years ago at our lunch-time yoga wellness program session like dominoes, and all my previous attempts & fails at yoga before, I decided to join the yoga session on our 3rd day with an instructor named Pretzel, I couldn't tell you. Perhaps it was because I was so in the moment, and I had succeeded in suspending enough of my neuroses that I felt that I could conquer it.

I'm pleased to report that I didn't knock anyone down. But Pretzel's pace was too great for me to keep up with and her "modifications" weren't frequent enough for me to follow. I'd asked her before the class if she was going to include modifications, which she said she would, but me thinks her definition of "modifications" and mine were about as similar as chocolate and umami. But, that's ok. I had done enough Windsor pilates to be able to modify some of the poses well enough. Besides, thanks to Bethenny Frankel, I kept reminding myself that yoga is more about the breathing and feeling one with the breath than the actual poses themselves.

It wasn't until we got to some of the stretches of the chest and back, however, that I broke down. As many of my fellow teammates from my years in basketball, fencing, softball and even ballet can tell you, I've always been flexible from the waist up. I could hook my arms backwards and pull myself in all kinds of different directions. Before. Before the butchery.

However, as we held a simple stance, reached behind ourselves, grabbed our hands, and then had to stretch our clasped hands up, I felt a strange tugging and disconcerting shifting in my chest.

Fuck.

The implants. My pectorals. These fucking, G-d forsaken foreign objects that yield to no one, that have turned my pectoral muscles to the surface just below my skin, so that every twitch of the muscle causes a disgusting, gut-wrenching yank and pull and ripple in what had been my soft, supple cleavage. I could lift 100 pounds, and my breasts still looked feminine. Now, just stretching made me look like a roided up Arnold Schwartzenegger in the Mr. Olympia contest.

My primary goal of this adventure with First Descents was to try and feel like myself - something I haven't felt since my diagnosis. I hate my body for betraying me. I hate my body for falling apart. I hate my implants. I hate these stupid fake nipples with no sensation. I hate my skin that is in a constant state of tangible numbness. I hate it all.

I felt the tears start to fall, and I tried so hard to stick it out, but when I felt the onslaught of sobs, I had to bail. I tried, as quickly and quietly as possible, to run to the bathroom where I just let it go. I felt so defeated. I'd have slammed my fists to these false breasts repeatedly, beating them up, if there were any option to feel anything - even pain. But there wasn't any point - I wouldn't be able to feel anything. I couldn't do anything with them. And I couldn't feel anything with them. They simply fill in my dresses and bra cups. That's it. They are hollow, useless, and unattached, but attached, permanent accessories.

I broke down, curling up on the floor, breathless with grief. My breakfast to this point consisted of my coffee cup and now a serving of tear water and snot. I was mortified. I couldn't believe I abandoned the class. I couldn't forgive myself for not being stronger. I just wanted my cat, Sammy, to force me to play with him and out of this funk. But he was at home. I had to do this by myself. I closed my eyes and just breathed. In through the nose. Out through the mouth. In through the nose. Out through the mouth. In through the nose. Out through the mouth. In through the nose. Out through the mouth. In through the nose. Out through the mouth.

I tossed cold water on my face, as I know I have inherited my mother's tendency to get flush and terrible red eyes when crying, and I go back to the outside patio where the yoga class was continuing. I struggled through the poses again, quivering, stumbling, kneeling, chest heaving...

Yoga ended, Namaste, and I just wanted to curl up and die. But it was breakfast time. The coffee and food was too good to escape company, so I joined the group at the table. We prepped for the next part of our rest day - a hike, some shopping in town, and chilling. (I was opting for the shopping, as I wanted to see the town and I always enjoy seeing what the locals do wherever I visit.)

We pile into the vans, and our first stop is a drive through Rocky Mountain National Park. The views were spectacular. The photos say it all:

Hot Pink in a field of wildflowers...

Well, not really... just a planting at the gas station.

Yeah. I climbed over the safety wall. And?

Chipmunk

The Amazing FD 2012 Estes Park Gang

"I wish we could all get along like we used to in middle school...
I wish I could bake a cake filled with rainbows and smiles and everyone would eat and be happy... "

The Amazing Wildflower

Yes, that's an Elk Bull.
Yes, we were that close from the car.

Next, we were onto our hike at Gem Lake. Those of us who were shopping would not complete the entire hike while the rest actually completed the trail to the lake itself. Though I'd been feeling winded during some of the walks we were doing to the rocks, it wasn't too problematic - I simply dismissed it as altitude or something. But I figured this hike should be a piece of cake - I've always been able to hike - granted, my knees would be problematic, but it's not that much of a challenge. Hell, most of my mountain bike races are hikes on the way up, and that's with a full Camelbak and a Trek 3900 in tow! But, in this case, it was merely a backpack with a couple of light items and no bike, and I was near hyperventilation almost immediately. Not only was it inconvenient, it was thoroughly pissing me off, which wasn't exactly helping. Chopper, Mermaid, Little Bits and I walked along - clearly, they were designated sweeps. The negative was falling back. The positive was that I was with a local, a photographer and a local birdwatcher - this meant I could take in the beauty around us. This trail was stunning. Well kept, looking over vistas that I'd never seen in this country, birds flitting about - it was lovely. We talked, got to know each other.

I didn't know that Chopper, for example, was a former cycling pro until Bits & I started talking about cycling, and I was trying to explain some of the strategy to Mermaid. He seemed impressed that I knew about the sport, the Tour, etc. If I recall, it was when I was comparing hiking up to cycling, and pointed out that I was more like a Jans Ullrich vs. a Contador when it comes to climbing, but the ideal is to be more like an Armstrong - with powerful legs but not overly heavy, so you can be a well-rounded player. Unfortunately, the topic didn't come up until we were almost at the overlook, so I didn't get to pry Chris with questions.

Here, Wildflower explained we would have a rock ceremony. We were, in silence, to choose 2 rocks, and a Sharpie marker. On one rock, we were to write down everything that we wanted to leave behind - every insecurity, trait, etc. One the other, what we hoped to keep with us, earn or takeaway with us. Tomorrow was graduation day, so it was time to really think. For my positive rock, I found a lovely stone with quartz crystals. It was small, light and lovely. The other had to be huge. I had a tome to write in order to list all the things I wanted to relieve myself of - so many issues, qualities, etc.

Now, I've participated in my fair share of similar ceremonies. And there is always this forced silence while you wait for everyone else to finish. But this was different... there was no urge to break the silence. There were no giggles, sneezes, awkward shifting. I sense that most of us finished our rocks long before anyone said a word. The air was so clean, the sun felt so good - it felt like such a whole moment that I don't think any one of us wanted to disturb that purity.

We all gathered at the edge of the overlook and, on the count of three (well, I needed 4 since my rock was SO large that I had to wait for everyone else lest I accidentally hit one of my friends in the head with mine), and our rocks went flying over the ledge. Poetically, mine hit an edge and splintered into hundreds of shards. I breathed in, looked at Snapjacks and the others (she happened to be right near me) and I said, "I may have been the last one up here, but I'll be damned if I'll be the last one down!"

It seemed like a bold statement, I could understand that, but bear one thing in mind - while I'm not a great cyclist, and at the speed required for mountain biking, I can't always find the line, when I have the chance to study a course, I can pick some damned fine ones. I knew I didn't have to run, but just find the lines of least resistance and approach it to scouting out a bike trail or road course. So I zipped down. Except for the occasional confirmation that I was making the right turn at junctions, there was no looking back, no stopping, no slowing down - just forward momentum. Until I saw a hairband on the ground.

Suddenly, I had a strange urge - something that had merely been a longing for months. I picked up the hairband, ran my fingers through my hair, pulled back as hard as I could, and deftly wrapped and tightened that band against the stub at the back of my scalp. More than likely, I looked more like George Washington vs Lady Godiva, but, for the first time in just under a year, I was able to pull my hair - my own hair - into a pony tail. (Ok. Pony tail is stretching it - maybe a bunny tail.) I grinned and then just let gravity lead me down. Before I knew it, I was leaning against the van, looking up at the trail, and I couldn't see Wildflower, who was the first one in the pack behind me. It was a few minutes before the group broke the clearing into the parking lot.

I had done it. I finished first. And I was barely winded.

Shopping in town was fine, though not my cup of tea. We only had an hour, which was a shame, because that barely left us much time to do more than hit some of the typical t-shirt/souvenir shops and an ice cream store. Personally, I love to mill around, look at the galleries, look at the craftswork, jewelry and art work and spend $50 on a piece of local, handcrafted specialties that represent the place I'm visiting vs. $50 worth of t-shirts and hats, but that's ok. I was able to find keychains for both of my kids - a tradition I started several years ago - a keychain for every state I travel through for each of them, a couple of magnets and some postcards (which, dummy me, I forgot to put into the mail). Besides, I'd already gotten my special Estes Park goodies earlier in the week, anyway - a key chain and key from the Stanley Hotel Room #217 and a door plaque for my bedroom, now known as Room #217.

I will say this: Huckleberry Ice Cream is Colorado's equivalent to Maine's secret weapon, Blueberry Ice Cream. I won't choose one over the other, but they are both equally divine.

We met up with Wildflower and the others and headed back to the ranch for dinner and our campfires, which aren't actual campfires - but more like a communal gathering where we reflect upon the day and award each other with one of 3 special tokens - a monkey for work "On The Rock," a set of maracas for work "Off The Rock," and a turkey hat for... well... anything else - spirit.

Before dinner, though, I was feeling stiff and tense for the next day's climb. The guides and staff had been hyping it all week, and the fact that, at best, I'd done moderate climbs, everyone else had attacked the advanced and expert climbs. I didn't. I felt out of my league, so I did something I didn't think I would - I went into the hot tub. Everyone else went downstairs to play Hydration Pong (I never really got Beer Pong, anyway), and I just took in the mountain air while surrounded by bubbles. I started to sing. I felt that if I could sing, in the hot tub and perhaps even the mountain, I could maintain my breathing and pace myself. I think I was in there for 2 hours.

Then, I heard the announcement that dinner was ready - those beautiful lasagnas Antelope Jamboree and Chamomile had been working on all day with their hearts and souls. It was sumptuous. Everything (but the pasta) was homemade. It was divine, comforting, soothing, nutritious and filling.

As we went through our campfire ritual, we gave our staff and guides a token of our affection - a Red Solo Cup printed with a cute message, signed by each of us. And then it was onto the awards.

I was still so relaxed by my soak in the hot tub, I was barely awake when I heard Snapjacks re-quote me to the group,  "I may have been the last one up here, but I'll be damned if I'll be the last one down!" My meltdown repelling on Day 1 made an impact on everyone, as it was mentioned a few times at Day 1's campfire as a moment of inspiration, but this one I wasn't expecting. The next thing I know, I'm receiving the monkey for work On the rock. ME.

I was honored. And stupefied.

And I realized I had a lot to live up to the next day on Graduation Day. I would be carrying the monkey.

Failure would not be an option.

Was I ready for the Challenge?

Tomorrow is "Graduation Day." And the day I need you to have my back.

I'll fill you in on what's happened here on First Descents between Day 1 and today, but I have a request.

As you have read in my recount of Day 1, I'm facing fears that have been lifelong out here. Tomorrow is our "Graduation Day," which means attacking rocks beyond our imagination. And here's the catch - while everyone else on the trip has successfully been able to climb every route set up by our guides, I've only been able to do 2 1/2 at best. And, to do that, I had to obsessively climb and reclimb them, and 2 of them were set up just for me.

That's not going to happen tomorrow and I'm terrified. And I refuse to cry again. (I cried during yoga today.)

I need you to give me a boost. This isn't a ploy, this is the real deal. I need that push from familiar people - people who know me by my real name - to keep me going tomorrow. This is what we're climbing, and rappelling, down.

Castle Rock, Boulder Canyon, CO

As anyone who knows me knows, I have a fear of heights. I am a bit of a control freak. And I'm not naturally built for climbing. To date, I have only climbed things as high as the tree you see in the front. This is free-climbing, and rappelling down almost 3 times that. The others in the group have climbed far more advanced rocks than me.

I feel like a newly licensed driver being thrown into a race on the Autobahn with seasoned pros.

Please, show your support and consider making a donation to my LIVESTRONG Challenge account. Any amount helps. HTTP://LAF.CONVIO.NET/GOTO/RICAROCKSAUSTIN2012

First Descents Days 1

If anyone is wondering why I'm not online much, nor answering my cell phone, it's because I'm in Colorado climbing the Rocky Mountains. No, you didn't misread, I'm climbing the Rocky Mountains. I'm participating in an adventure trip for fellow cancer survivors called "First Descents." My friend, Tal, kept raving about this organization, and I think he would have boiled my kitty if I didn't ultimately go. (He's not a demanding kind of guy, but this he was pretty stern about.)

Saturday morning I boarded the flight and landed in Colorado a few hours later (during which I completed the entire first book of The Hunger Games and started Catching Fire once I got to Dallas). When I arrived in Denver, I followed the directions towards Baggage Claim where I was supposed to meet the First Descents crew. Instead, I wandered around in circles, eyes enlarged, completely lost. I had no idea where to go. An unfamiliar number called my cell, but I ignored it - I didn't have a clue. All of a sudden, I hear people calling and I look up - there is the First Descents sign. I head up to where they were bunked out, but I soon had to "Hit & Run" (which became my camp nickname - we don't go by first names - not yet), and catch up with my friend & fellow LIVESTRONG Leader, Erik Pearson, and his wife, Lynne. Erik was at the US Pro Challenge, so I didn't get a chance to see him right away (and I was quite jealous, as he was hanging with Chris Horner, possibly the chillest pro cyclist I know!). His wife picked me up, and we went to her dad's home, into which she & Erik are moving, and headed out to lunch with her sister, brother-in-law and waited for Erik and his son to join us.

Once we were all in one place, and we were regaled with tales of the US Pro Challenge, we piled into the car and headed out to Estes Park. Our destination was, first, to hit the Stanley Hotel, the most haunted hotel in the country and the inspiration for The Shining, and the remake with Steven Weber (the Nicholson/Kubrick original movie was actually filmed in Oregon). I got a couple of fantastic souvenirs (will reveal later - can't spoil the surprise!), had gelato, and took some obligatory photos. Then, we were off to Narrow Trail Ranch, our home for the next week.

Wow - what a place! This is a stunning 5-bedroom log cabin, with plenty of extra space for more beds to be set up to accomodate all of us "campers" and staffers. The kitchen is a tremendous chef's kitchen, an amazing set of decks, including one that has a hot tub, a fireplace, etc. One of my fellow campers and I share the loft - I'm sofa-couching it, but I'm happy! This place is palatial. We had a meet & greet over "Happy Hour" and then a splendid dinner of tacos - fillings included all kinds of vegetables, bison, homemade guacamole, and this incredible green rice. After dinner, we chilled out, we all got to know each other and then got to bed.

The next morning, I got up very early (as, apparently, many East Coasters do), and I helped Antelope Jamboree & Chamomile, our cooks/camp mom, make stuffed french toast. The group filled up on breakfast and headed to Mary's Lake for our first climbing outing.

The night before, the 13 of us shared that most everyone, but me, had climbing experience. I really had none. I'd gone bouldering locally years ago, but that was about it. So when I saw what was being set up for us to climb, the fear built up. The "easy" climb had a large, round piece of rock jutting out of the side. I'm sorry, but I thought that sheer, flat rock was going to be tough, let alone rocks that were convex! I started to climb, but it was not happening. The panic of climbing set in. I was way over my head. Everyone else seemed to be flying up these rocks with very little struggle. I couldn't get higher than 4 feet in the ground.

Defeated, I went to as quiet, removed part of where we were as possible, pulled out Catching Fire, determined to finish reading it, which I did. Our camp dad, Two Dogs, came over to chit chat. While talking, I explained my hesitation. Not only was I afraid of heights, but I'd been out of commission, physically, for too long. I was stressed over the expectation of being affiliated with LIVESTRONG as a leader to be the one cancer survivor in the group who excelled in athletics despite teh disease and treatment, and that I felt lost because I couldn't meet those expectations. And the fact that I hate quitting, but it was too much.

I honestly felt that I was going to miserable all week - that I'd be sitting for hours on the ground watching everyone else, just as I had on Monday. I just wished that a guide had set up a real beginner rock to work on. I started to cry, once alone, as I saw that there was such demand iun the group that the guides set up additional climbs to keep up with everyone's pace while I sat, watching, without the ability to climb anything but in and out of the minivans.

Then, Little Bits came up and told me that he'd set up a climb just for me. It was on the same rock as the most advanced climb, plus, it had a tree. I was a bit intimidated, but he assured me it was easy. I harnessed up and I started climbing. And climbing, but he assured me it was easy. I harnessed up and I started climbing. And climbing. And climbing. I hear people shouting, "You go, Hit & Run!" "Kick that rock's ass, Hit & Run!" Little Bits told me to look down, and I did. I was high up in the air. Not a little, but a lot. And I was inches away from touching the caribiner in victory. When I reached up to that metal hook upon which my life-line was hooked, I couldn't believe it. I had climbed this rock. My confidence was up.

I came down and saw that everyone was charging back to the "beginner" rock. I followed suit and discovered that Spare Parts had set up some rappelling. I decided that I would go for it.

I go on belay again, and start my descent. I'm doing fine until I get to a roof. I cannot see anything below this rock. I cannot see where to set my foot. Panic sets in. Spare Parts keeps reassuring me that he has me. He tells me to just do it. At this point, all eyes are on me. And the hysteria sets in. I'm cursing at Spare Parts, screaming, crying, snot bubbles blowing out my nose because I realize that I'm trapped. I can't go up, I can't go down. My legs won't move. I'm shaking, I'm terrified, and I'm paralyzed with fear. I can't see where my feet should go. I don't trust the equipment. This guy who weighs as much as my thigh is literally holding my life in his hands, and I've got a big drop to go.

"Trust your feet" starts echoing through my head, the mantra my old friend, a climber, taught me when we were sixteen - that same friend who got me into cycling and that hasn't spoken to me for 2 years and won't because he can't get over his anger. This makes things worse - now, not only am I hanging over a precipice, but now I'm flooded with grief and longing for a friendship that is overdue for repair that I miss terribly. So now, I'm friend-sick, terrified of the drop, feeling out of control, weighing way too much than I should, with the harness digging into me leaving what I'm sure will be wicked welts. I'm low enough to the ground and far enough from the top that I really only have one choice - GO DOWN. I'm trapped. With all eyes on me, cheering me on. "GO HIT & RUN! You can do it!" I can't type out what I said because I'm too much of a lady, but let's just say that I threw curses at the man handing the rope keeping me from falling - probably not the wisest move - and throwing profanities that would shock Robin Williams.

Then, there's a scramble at the top. Two of my caribiners clack together and there's a shift. I feel a small rock fall on me. I start panicking even more, but Spare Parts explains it was just the rope adjusting, nothing was falling, it was ok. He was cool as a cucumber (earning him the second nickname "Ice Man"). Another guide, Little Bits, rushes over with another rope and some gear. I just close my eyes, now shaking because my arms are so tired and my hands are burned from holding the rope in a death grip. Next thing I know, Little Bits is next to me, with his leg below mine guiding me below the roof. All of a sudden I feel rock beneath my toes. Slowly, we go down together and I make it to the ground.

I have no other reaction but to laugh hysterically. And I start cracking jokes.

I did it. I was done for the day.

After that, we went back to dinner and our campfire. I was floored that so many folks brought up my breakdown as their favorite moment - not because of entertainment value - though it must have been quite spectacular - but because I conquered my fear.

I don't know how much of that was me conquering a fear, but just doing what I had to do. If it helps someone else, though, that's awesome.

When one door closes...

... another door opens. I cannot tell you how many times I've heard this from my LIVESTRONG peers. And, in many ways, it's true.

A door slammed shut last week, and is locking shut today. As a result, I am planning on spending the next couple of weeks training my body back into some semblance of being fit in preparation for my cancer survivors' rock climbing expedition with First Descents.

I look to canoeing around the lake every morning, throwing some bike rides into my days, doing housework, and getting back into the day-to-day, physically. Yes, I have a couple of minor residual procedures to complete reconstruction, but, for the first time since last August, it should not interfere with physical efforts.

I look to my rock climbing trip in Colorado as a restart. (Though, I'm most unhappy at the prospect that I may break some nails - I've been working very hard to regrow them since Chemo - and they are splendidly long now!)

I won't lie - I've been terrified that this ending would put me in dire financial straits - more than before. But an interesting thing has been happening - I've been getting more and more interview requests, and from corporations that I've been trying to get into for years. Better than that, they are such interesting positions!

The coming months will be telling ones.

Will I find that "dream job" that will solve my career, and financial, needs? Will the best thing for my son be to continue high school here or in Boston with his father? Will I be able to regain my strength and athleticism and be able to ride 100 miles in Austin in October? Will I be able to get back on the mountain bike again?

Stay tuned...