Ain't No Mountain

Today, for the first time after two years of not being capable, hubby and I shared our anniversary date at our local fondue house.  We used to always have our anniversary dates there, but with the restaurant being located in a basement and all the physical challenges of the past few years, we just didn't get there.  We have been married 12 years tomorrow, and this is also the anniversary of the month I began to stand without help and took my first steps.  Today we overcame a hurdle that felt like it represented everything we've faced in our marriage so far, and emerged strong, united, and unstoppable on the other side.  Appropriately, it was a mobility hurdle.

It took us close to twenty minutes to find handicap accessible parking within a reasonable manual-chair-pushing range of our reservation, and when we found it, it was right on the street and required either stepping up onto the curb or wheeling down to the corner of the block to use the intersection curb ramps.  If we had owned an adapted vehicle, we could have extended a ramp from inside the car to the curb to avoid that issue.  This was followed by a two-block journey over every wheelchair warrior's favorite uneven pavement surface: bricks.  When we reached the restaurant, they were having some difficulties with their chair lift.  It got us down to the seating area, but it appeared to be incapable of making the return trip after our meal.  

The apologetic staff offered to let us exit through their back door, which would have put us even further from where we parked, but I had a different idea in mind.  I counted roughly twenty stairs up to the street level.  They were too wide to use the arm rails on both sides, but had a nice gentle rise of only about five or six inches.  I told my husband I'd like to give it a try, that I thought I could do it, so my muscle-bound hero folded up my manual chair and carried it up the stairs, while I went to the right-hand railing.  A kind staff member stayed just next to my left side to offer support if needed, and I began my climb.  I knew as soon as I'd passed the first two stairs that I was going to make it all the way to the top.  The last few steps were noticeably tougher than the first half had been, but overall it was not the Mt. Everest-style experience that stair climbing has typically been for me the past couple years.  The staff applauded when we reached the top, and my husband and I cheered and high-fived ourselves.  

Back home, resting in my hospital bed, new possibilities dance before my sleepy eyes.  I don't know how often I can pull off a stunt like what we did today, but I suspect it is more often than what I was previously giving my legs credit for.  I'm rather looking forward to finding out.  That reminds me, it's been a long time since I did a real distance-push walk, where we keep track of how far I can go and really strive to reach the limit of my legs' endurance.  Perhaps it's time to do that again.