I'm Still Thinking about Lori

Why are so many people inspired by Lori’s climb to the top of the world?

Perhaps we lack awesome goals in our own lives. Maybe we’ve settled for a safe life, satisfied that we can pay our bills, feed our children, or buy the newest car or video game. It’s possible that we lack role models or companions to urge us forward as we pursue our dreams. Or …

Do we long for a feeling of hope, a sense that we can accomplish goals beyond our wildest imaginings? Can we dream our dreams and venture toward our goals in the fast-paced, turbulent, topsy-turvy world in which we live?

I listened to reports aired by Wisconsin Public Radio during Lori’s climb up Mt. Everest. I also viewed the video and slide show of the final ascent. And, yes, I had tears in my eyes. How can we not be moved by someone who chooses to venture where so few have gone before?

How can we not be inspired by Lori who offers us hope and encouragement through her own example? In the midst of her climb up Everest Lori stimulated radio listeners with these words: “I wish you all luck climbing [the] mountains in your life.”

I’m beginning to think that I relate to Lori’s journey up the mountains because, in many ways, Lori’s journey is a reflection of my own. Lori’s diagnosis of MS occurred in 1993. I’ve lived with diabetes for 26 years. Some days it’s damn hard and discouraging. Other days—when I have a low sugar blackout—I fear for my life. On still others I realize that, were it not for the invention of insulin, I’d have died at the age of 29.

Most days I am grateful for, and enjoy, my life. I adore my little spot of heaven on earth here “under the forest canopy.” I appreciate opportunities to learn, to adventure and in-venture, growing wiser and more loving (I hope!) with each new challenge I confront.

There are times in my life when I’ve accomplished amazing goals that energized and uplifted me. Frances’ and my trip to Central America this past winter is a prime example. Seven weeks of touring through Mexico, Belize, Honduras, and Guatemala was life-changing. If I could spend two months living out of a backpack, I can surely simplify my day-to-day life. I can also remember to approach each moment as a grand adventure.

My numerous expeditions have included bike trips in Europe, Canada, Minnesota, and Wisconsin: a six-week bicycle tour of six European countries in 1977; a solo one-week bike trip from the Twin Cities to Rochester, east to LaCrosse, and back to the Twin Cities; a three-week bike trip from Duluth to Canada and back; a MS Bike-a-Thon from the Twin Cities to Duluth.

An enormous challenge for me many years ago was a week-long vacation I took by myself to Lake Superior’s North Shore. Why? Because for large portions of that trip I felt inundated by—and was forced to confront—the inner voices that plagued me. Since then, years of teaching t’ai chi chih moving meditation have shown me that my students also must learn to deal with what the Buddhists call “monkey mind.” When we purposefully allow our bodies to relax and slow down, we soon experience the fast and relentless movement of our minds. Clearly, challenges we attempt—and especially those that require physical strength—also depend upon mental training and fortitude.

My greatest journey, of course, is the one I’ve taken with diabetes. And, perhaps, this is where I most closely relate to Lori’s story. Fortunately, diabetes asked me to discover how to live a healthy, well-thy lifestyle. It also offered me a unique opportunity to climb my own mountain or, as I think of it, to balance on my own tightrope walk. Just like Lori, I take one step at a time.