This past weekend, Josh and I took a little road trip to the Black Hills in South Dakota with our friends B&K. Josh and B were planning to ride the 112 mile Mickelson Trail from Edgemont to Deadwood and back the next day. While they rode, K and I were planning to run, hike, and do a little playing of our own. The drive out was horrendous; with rain, so much hail that it looked like winter, suicidal deer and non-stop lightning for the 5 hour trek. It was super.

On Saturday morning, the boys headed out onto the soggy trail, and K and I headed to Wind Cave National Park. Surprisingly, I was feeling pretty good after the long drive the night before (my 23 mile run Friday morning helped with that drive), and decided that I could drive us to Wind Cave. It was only 38 miles, so no problem. Over the last few miles I started feeling lousy, and I knew I had pushed my limits. We parked the car, and sat for a bit to collect myself before we headed into the visitor center for a tour of the cave. As we sat, K asked, “What is the farthest you have driven?” As is turns out, THAT is the farthest I had driven. It was a bit too far, and I was banned from driving the rest of the weekend. Once we started the tour and entered the dark cave, K asked if I was going to be okay with the lighting. The answer was no. It was dark, except for bright spotlights sporadically placed to illuminate interesting features of “boxwork”, “popcorn”, and “frost”.

The contrast of the darkness and bright lights did not go well for me. I watched K with fascination and a touch of jealousy as she walked in front of me, casually looking around while walking down the stairs and through the corridors. Meanwhile, I was clutching both handrails, and had to stop walking (or waddling/shuffling) in order to look at anything but the floor in front of me. After the tour she told me she had been worried I was going to fall over. Apparently, I looked like an old lady, or a drunk, or maybe a drunk old lady.

The rest of the weekend involved running on the Mickelson Trail, seeing Crazy Horse, Mt. Rushmore, and a hike/run on Black Elk Peak (previously called Harney Peak, and the highest point in South Dakota). The boys rode 175 miles in two days, and we all stuffed ourselves with pizza in Custer before we started the long drive home. It was a bit of a whirlwind trip, but I enjoyed it and found the Black Hills to be far prettier than I had expected.

Now, it is time to pack and get organized for our next adventure. We leave for a family trip to Hawaii on Friday. It will be 10 days with 12 people sharing a house. With the “exuberance” of my 4 nephews and two brothers (who are definitely even louder than my nephews), along with a 7 hour flight to get to Kona for 5 days, then a flight to Maui, and a boat trip to snorkel, I think I will be exploring my boundaries, and pushing myself quite a bit. I’m trying to ignore the anxiety I have, and thinking positively about it being a great experience. However, erupting volcano aside, I’m pretty sure after my experience at Wind Cave, I’m going to skip the lava tube exploration.

Many times I have said that living with TBI is a lot like snorkeling. Sometimes it feels like you are floating along at slow speed, staring at a world you are not a part of. With all the practice I have had the last 3 years, now that I am faced with actually snorkeling again, I’m a bit terrified. I keep telling myself I should try to swim and make sure I can look down into the water without panicking and drowning.  Of course now we are leaving in a couple of days, and I haven’t gotten around to doing it, so fingers crossed.

I suppose I could sit at home and be comfortable with what I know I can tolerate. I could be satisfied with how far I’ve come in my recovery, or I can work on driving, and waddle like a drunk old lady through caves, get on a plane, and a boat, and try not to drown as I watch the pretty fish swim by. Its gonna be great, and if not, at least I can feel terrible while sitting on a beach. Until next time, aloha!

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-Kristin