Obligatory Gear Post

Since I'm leaving Omaha a week from tomorrow (stopovers in Washington, Iowa and Wadsworth, Illinois), and since my sister Jeanie has already started packing for our Camino, I thought I'd better actually put my gear together instead of tossing it into the Lululemon bag on the floor in my closet as I've been doing the past year whenever I thought of something important.

(I'm also sharing this on Jeanie's Facebook page because she said her friends are interested in following our journey - and this way they can see if they really want to read my writing!)

As I've mentioned before, there are any number of Camino-related groups on Facebook, and it seems like everyone posts pictures of their pack before they leave, asking for suggestions or validation. And do they ever get "suggestions". I know most of them are meant to be helpful, but if some of those comments were directed at me I think I'd start crying. So I'm just posting my pictures on this little blog; feel free to comment as long as you aren't mean!

This contains everything I'll need for our trip. Hopefully.

My fully loaded backpack right now weighs 13 pounds. The guidelines are that it's not to exceed 10% of your body weight, so yes, I weigh 130 pounds. HAHAHAHAHA!!! I crack myself up. I need to add water and snacks, which will bring it up to 15 pounds, which is a little bit less than the amount of weight I lost since Thanksgiving, knowing I'd be carrying a pack across northern Spain.

Here's what's inside. The first aid / toiletry bag:

In the ziploc are my liquids that I'll need to take out for airport security: sunscreen, lip protection, the Monistat chafing gel I told you about last time, and contact solution. The strips on the upper right are Leukotape, which I ordered on Amazon. This is some sort of magic tape, similar to athletic tape but way stronger. The adhesive lasts for days even when it gets wet, so if I feel a hot spot, it's getting slapped with some of this tape and I'm wearing it until it falls off. The little sewing kit is for popping blisters, and if I need to do that, then I have alcohol wipes, sterile gauze, and Neosporin. I have some Benadryl, some pepto, Gas-Ex (you're welcome, Jeanie!), and an antibiotic for just-in-case that my doc prescribed for traveler's diarrhea. There is a smaller ziploc with two packs of travel Kleenex and some folded up bags that our newspaper comes in. Most people use them to clean up after their dogs on walks, but I bet you can guess what they may have to be used for... I need to add my daily prescription drugs (you can bet the Xanax is coming with me!), moisturizer, glasses, and daily contacts. I usually wear the two-week kind, but I thought dailies would be easier for this trip (in which case I'll leave the contact solution at home).

Here are All The Clothes:

My Teva sandals (and the smoking' hot socks I wear with them), 3 shirts (all wicking fabric): one tank, one short-sleeve, one long-sleeve. Hiking shorts, leggings (capri-length), a black dress to change into after walking for the day - can double as a nightie. 3 pairs underwear, two sports bras, a real bra in case I don't want to sport a uni-boob all the time, two pairs wool hiking socks, a rain jacket for when it's not raining hard that will be coupled with the rain cover on my pack, and a poncho for when it IS raining hard (insert fingers-crossed emoji here) that I don't every have to take it out of it's giant orange stuff sack) that will cover me and my pack. A hiking hat, a baseball cap, a buff, the headlamp that Dwight gave me for Christmas, deodorant, dry shampoo, toothbrush/paste, razor, Lush bar shampoo, extra hair ties, notebook with pen and pencil, and then electronics: European plug adapter, battery pack, headphones, chargers for phone and Apple Watch. There are some clothespins for when we need to hang our clothes to dry at night in our room, and in the Altoids tin are diaper pins to hang our damp clothes from our packs to dry. I'm just picturing the fashion statement that we'll be making.

All of the above are organized into gallon ziplocs: one for tops, one for pants, one for undies/socks, one for toiletries, and one for miscellaneous. These are in the main compartment of my pack. We'll see how long they stay that way.

My sandals and poncho go into the bottom, separate compartment of my pack, and anything I'll need for the day will go into the top compartment, which I've learned is called the brain.

I'll be carrying a very small crossbody bag with everyday necessities, which I think are my phone, charging cord, pilgrim credencial, copy of my US passport, daily cash, and chapstick. The bag is actually pretty cool and not even that ugly: it's by Travelon, all the zippers lock, the body is slash-proof, the strap is slash-resistant, and there are RFID blocking slots and pockets. For valuables, I actually bought a money belt that I'll wear under my clothes. This will hold my stash of euros, actual US passport, drivers license, Global Entry card, credit card, and debit card. (More RFID blocking action happening here).

And last but not least is my outfit for the plane/next day. I'll be living in these from about noon on Monday the 17th until we get to our hotel room in Sarria the next evening. Everything is stretchy and hopefully comfy enough: hiking pants that the hem can be cinched up to make into capris, tech short-sleeve shirt, sports bra, wool socks, my hiking shoes, and a sarong that I'll use as a scarf, or maybe a blanket on the plane. [Edit: forgot to add my Old Navy stretchy running jacket.] So my basic palette will be gray and black, which pretty much mirrors my entire wardrobe.

I know I'll be adding and possibly subtracting to the above items, but for now, Buen Camino!

Less than two weeks!!!!

After a year of planning, and thinking about the Camino every day, Jeanie and I will be in Spain in less than two weeks. I am both nervous and excited. Insert worried Mom-face emoji here:

This. Our kids know it well.

While I don't want to wish away time, I feel I'm ready to get on the Way and just walk. Of course after our first day I may be singing a different tune, but for now I'm ready. Except to pack, although you can believe I have lists.

We have all our accommodations, since the one stipulation that Jeanie had was NOT sharing a room and bathroom with 50 strangers, so instead of the traditional pilgrim albergues, we'll be staying in pensions and small inns in the villages. People say not to plan ahead, but as we'll be on the busiest portion of the Way, I needed to alleviate some of the stress for me - especially if we're slow and won't be the first people into the towns to grab a bed. I wanted to be sure we wouldn't be sleeping on the streets.

In order to receive your Compostela, which is basically a certificate of completion, the Church requires that you walk the last 100 km. The town where we are starting, Sarria, is about 120 km from Santiago, and is the nearest to fulfilling the distance requirements. So here is our itinerary, complete with distances. I'm pretty sure they're from the edge of one town to the edge of the next, and don't take into account the elevation changes, so it will be interesting to see the actual distances we walk. Now I am a scientist, and while I'm pretty accurate on the little measurements, like milliliters and millimeters, for the long distances, well, I'm an American. I figured out the actual miles but they make me want to whimper so I'm just leaving them in kilometers. (Trust me, it makes sense in my head).

Monday 9/17: Leave from O'Hare about 4:40 PM, fly to Madrid
Tuesday 9/18: Arrive Madrid early AM, train to Sarria
Wednesday 9/19: Walk Sarria to Portomarin 22.7 km
Thursday 9/20: Walk Portomarin to Palas de Rei, 24.6 km
Friday 9/21: Walk Palas de Rei to Ribadiso, 26.3 km
Saturday 9/22: Walk Ribadiso to O Pedrouzo, 23.7 km
Sunday 9/23: Walk O Pedrouzo to Santiago, 20.1 km
Monday 9/24: explore Santiago
Tuesday 9/25: day trip to Muxia and Finisterre (bus or taxi)
Wednesday 9/26: train to Madrid
Thursday 9/27: fly back to Chicago
9/28: Omaha!

I'll be writing a post about the gear I'm actually taking, but for now here are a few items to help me on my journey:

Passport cover from Emily - notice the scallop shell and my initial!

Teva sandals complete with socks for when I need a break from my boots. Because it's just such a sexy look.

Fully vaccinated: Hepatitis A and B, and MMR booster

Pilgrims carry this credencial, getting stamps at all the places they eat, visit, or stay as a record of proof that you've been there, and that you've walked the required number of miles

The insides of our credencials. I will admit that I got a bit teary when they arrived!

Total change of subject, and again this is courtesy of Emily. Monistat, it's not just for your lady bits any more.  I put it on my feet before putting my socks on

A gift from Jeanie. They might not be hiking socks, but I love them nonetheless

They look like toe condoms, don't they? My second toes are longer than my big toes, so those guys take a beating. I'd been taping them until I ordered these silicone toe sleeves. Pretty much awesome.

Buen Camino!

My Summer as Told Through Emojis

I wrote a long post about my summer so far and it bored me, so I thought I’d spare you and tell you about it in emojis. You’re welcome.

Houseguests:  🏡 🍷

Sibling trip to Sioux Falls to visit Dad:  ✈️ 🚗 🛣 🎉 🍷 🍸

More houseguests:  🏡 🍷 🏌🏼‍♀️ 🏌🏻‍♂️  💅🏻

New car:  💲 🚗

Gender reveal (Erin and Tim):  🚗 💙 👶🏼 💙

Sick dad: 🚗 👴🏻 🤒 🏥

Nana to the wescue: 🚗  💪🏻 🏃🏼‍♀️

To Des Moines for family lunch: 🚗 🥗 🍕

Engagement (Emmy and Jesus):  💞 💍

Yes to the dress:  🚗 👰🏼 😍

Camino training:  🚶‍♀️🎒👣👣👣👣👣👣👣👣👣👣👣

Leave for Spain in 19 days:  ✈️ 🇪🇸 🙂😬😬😬

Not All Those Who Wander Are Lost

I love this JRR Tolkien quote, and while this definitely is not a trek to Mordor, I want to talk about our little area path, which we call the Muffly Trail in honor of our friends, who discovered it and shared it with us. I love it because it's close, a bit of a challenge (258 feet elevation change, 3.5 miles), and I can reach it by walking out my front door instead of a 20-minute ride to a trail. It's all paved, (so I am getting concrete experience and not just cushy wood chips), and about 8 feet wide. Could be wider, could be narrower, not sure - I'm awful at measuring.

Dwight and I walk it together maybe once or twice a week, but more often than not we walk it alone since I'd rather walk in the morning and he is a late-afternoon kind of guy. In Nebraska??? 100 degrees with humidity to match??? He was cooling down after his walk this afternoon and when he got up from the porch, there was a literal puddle under his chair. If you know him, you know I'm not kidding. I'm debating on whether or not to rinse it in case animals in the 'hood need a salt lick.

We've seen some cool wildlife, for living in a city. Okay, the 'burbs. I've seen wild turkeys, deer, a fox, and these guys, along with assorted critters.

I saw this guy early this spring, and as I was getting closer, I thought, "Wow, that's a big bird".

Oh yeah. Red-tailed hawk. With dinner.

This bunny nest was just a few feet off the trail, and we only noticed it when the mama scampered away. It wasn't very hidden, and it was gone a few days later, so we're hoping it didn't win the Darwin Awards for Bunnies

But since we usually walk it separately, if we see something cool and want to tell the other about it, we've named the sections:

• Switchbacks. Self explanatory.
• Roundabout. Again, you know what this is.
• Ted Bundy Hill. Emmy and I named this; if you're going up it and Ted Bundy pulled up in his Volkswagon Beetle and asked you to help him find his dog, you might consider the ride. Going down it is fine, but up is a bitch. Several blocks long and steep.
• Hobo camp. This is a new path that the city built over the winter. I wandered it last year and it seriously looked like a hobo camp. Are there still hobos? Do they have camps? Clem Kadiddlehopper? It was a dirt trail that ran along the tracks, there was a fire pit, trash, underbrush, I don't know, maybe bodies... Anyway, it was scary and I hightailed it out of there. The city came and cleaned it up, paved it, and it makes the trail a bit shorter if I go that way. 
• Power boxes
• Bridge
• Field
• Big Park / splash pad. I can't tell you the number of times I wanted to shove all the toddlers aside and just get wet!
• Tunnel 
• Railroad tracks - the trail runs along some BNSF tracks, but there are woods and gardens between us and the tracks. And lots of pot. Or hemp. Whatever. 

this stuff grows so fast!

• Bataan Death March. This is the last part along the tracks - at least a quarter of a mile of long gradual never-ending uphill. And just when you think you're at the end, you turn the corner and there's the Hill of Death - only about half a block but straight uphill.
• 99th Street
• Little Park
• The Bench. It's a mile from the big park back to our house, and 3/4 of that is uphill. A few blocks from the traffic light, at the top of the hill, there is a sweet little bench along the trail. Last summer when I passed it there was a couple sitting on it, and I told them they had the right idea. And they said that's why they put it there! I have availed myself of it more than once. I want to bake cookies for them and leave them on their porch, I am so grateful.

Srsly. How inviting does this look???

And now time for a public service announcement. Remember that Kurt Vonnegut, Jr. commencement address floating around a few years ago titled "Wear Sunscreen"? Yeah. He was right.

I grew up in South Dakota, red hair, fair skin, freckles, and spent every day all day outside in the sun, usually at the pool. Since sunscreen hadn't even been invented, I had more blistering sunburns than I could count.

Last week I had my first visit to a dermatologist. I had self-diagnosed myself with rosacea, and since my nose was starting to look like W.C. Fields and since we were going out of town, I needed help. Vanity,  you know. Sure enough, I was having a rosacea flair, and thanks to antibiotics (oral and topical), my skin now looks as good as it ever has. But as long as I was there, she did a full body check. (I would have worn better underwear had I known.) She froze four suspicious spots (right forearm, left bicep, above my left eyebrow, and scalp), and took a biopsy of an even more suspicious one on my left cheek. Luckily it turned out to be actinic keratosis and not basal cell carcinoma, but I feel like a ticking time bomb. It's only a matter of when.

WEAR SUNSCREEN!!!

The Day I Thought I was Gonna Die, or Adventures in Hiking

I know, I know, it's me being overdramatic. But let me tell you about last Saturday.

First of all, we are in the middle of a major heat wave. We had 78 days of January, two nice weeks of spring, and now, apparently, it's late July/early August. We're used to heat and humidity here in Nebraska, but we usually ease into it a bit more gradually.

Dwight has been busy lately but had nothing going on last Saturday, so when he asked what I wanted to do, I suggested going for a hike. And I wanted to do the full six miles around Wehrspann Lake, instead of cutting off the far side and making it only four miles. And I wanted to do it with my pack and boots. I dressed appropriately in hiking shorts, a sleeveless tech tee, my Smartwool socks, and a baseball cap. I had two bottles of water and some trail mix in my pack for us just in case we needed them.

We left our house about 9 a.m., stopped by Home Depot to pick up some mulch, but still got to the Chalco visitor's center about 9:30. You know, before it got too hot because we're prudent like that.  We decided to do the trail clockwise - again, just in case - we found we (and by we I mean I) really only wanted to do four miles and could take the bridge back.

We started out and it was gorgeous. When we came to the dam, I told Dwight that I was going to take the crushed limestone path just to have a different surface to walk on, while he continued the trail. His bright green shirt looked so pretty against the blue sky that I had to take a picture. I'd zoom in on it, but then you couldn't see how much higher he was than me.

That little speck is Dwight

And what did I see spray-painted in the gravel but a yellow arrow showing me the way. I tell you, signs are everywhere.

About a mile down the path, my tummy (which had felt a little off all morning) started getting gurgly and I told Dwight when we came to the picnic grounds I needed to use the bathroom because, well, I had to poop. I know, TMI, but hey, #keepingitreal. I knew we had a few miles to go until that spot, but when I found a bench in the shade, I needed to sit down. Dwight said, "The bathroom is only about 100 yards away", but I needed to SIT and SIT RIGHT THEN. I should have known how bad it was going to be because I didn't even pause the timer on my watch. But the stop revived me, I felt better, didn't have to poop, so we continued. We saw a sign that said 156th St bridge out due to construction but since we didn't know what that was referring to, we just went on. 

Okay, now I am thinking that doing four miles would be prudent, so we would need to take the shortcut back to the visitor center. When we got to the shortcut, it turns out that was the 156th St bridge the sign had been talking about. So, after a few choice words and figuring we'd just do the six miles, on we went.

Dwight: Are you feeling okay?

Me: I'm fine.

Dwight: You don't sound fine.

Me: I need to get to the car so I have no choice but to be fine. (Read this in a slightly bitchy voice.)

And then I started thinking that I was going to give Dwight the keys so he could drive home because my head was feeling not right. I needed shade and I needed it now. I just dropped my pack in the first patch of grass I found that was shady. (Again, not pausing my watch so my pace for this adventure was totally screwed.) I just sat there, thinking maybe I'd throw up, but knowing we still had some miles to go. Dwight offered to carry my pack but it seriously didn't feel heavy so I declined.  I have it packed right now at around 13 pounds, but it's so well balanced that it's easier than a school backpack.

Dwight knew what was happening, since he knows I don't handle heat and humidity well - especially since I've had a few rounds of heat exhaustion, most notably the time I didn't show up to the surprise 25th anniversary party that our kids threw for us. Hey, in my defense, it was supposed to be a surprise birthday party for a friend so I felt okay lying on the couch in the air conditioning after a day of working in the garden and not hydrating. Anyway, he knew there was a parking lot coming up, told me to sit and wait, he'd hike to the car and then come and find me. I didn't even argue, just started trudging off the spur to the parking lot. I found some shade under a tree, threw off my pack, used it for a pillow, and just sprawled.

When he left me, Dwight told me he'd be 20-30 minutes since he still had to hike to the car. Well, he was still two miles from the car, so I knew it would be close to 45. My brain was fried. I was lying there trying not to look like I was dying because people kept coming and going, and I didn't want to alarm anyone. Too much. But not one person stopped to ask if I was okay, which kinda surprised me. After about half an hour I felt like I might NOT die and started worrying about all the bugs that were in the grass, so sat up cautiously and tried to figure out where I was. And since my brain had started working again, I - duh - pulled up Google maps on my phone. When I saw where I was, I actually said OUT LOUD, "Highway 370. He's never gonna find me."

If you know my husband, you'll know that he is somewhat casual about carrying his phone. He had left it recharging at home so I had no way to reach him. He said he figured he wouldn't need it since we'd be together. Of course. So after an hour, having drunk all my water, I got up and walked around a bit, figuring since I felt so much better I would hike back to the car. But then I thought how alarmed he'd be if he showed up and I wasn't there, so I just stayed put. I knew he'd find me somehow, even if it meant driving to our house, getting his phone, and looking me up on Find My Phone. After another 20 minutes, I got a call from an unknown number (which I normally wouldn't answer) that I figured might be him.

Dwight: Where are you?

Me: Where are YOU? I'm by Highway 370.

Dwight: Where on 370?

Me: I don't know.

So after about five minutes, he pulled into the parking lot. When you're waiting for a ride, you can't believe how many black SUVs that look just like yours exist.

Let me tell you how glorious that air conditioning felt!

Funny end to the story: the other day we were talking about The Day Dwight Saved My Life and he said we just should've called Uber to take us to the car. And then we laughed and laughed because seriously, that would've been an excellent idea.

This is today - no ball cap, still sweaty

Buen Camino!

Life Lessons

For my mental health, I'm trying to stay off Facebook unless it's to read Camino-related entries or posts from one of my favorite groups, Silent Book Club. (This group reads an insane amount, and the members are anything but silent about opinions and recommendations. I thought I read a lot, but I'm on the low end of the bell curve in this group.) Also, the irony of posting this to my Cathy Shows Up Facebook page is not lost on me.

As I've mentioned, there are a plethora of groups related to all things Camino de Santiago, and I follow several of them. What to pack, shoe recommendations, how far to walk, where to stay, how to find someone to walk with, which airport to fly into, how to sew patches on your backpack, to bring makeup, trekking poles vs not, fanny pack, water bottle vs hydration pack, best bra, fastest-drying underwear, socks - well, you get the idea. Pretty much anything and everything. But one of the groups had a post by a woman, Kay Newton, about what she learned by walking the Camino. I listened to her almost-hour-long video and actually took notes. In reviewing these notes, I realized that they are lessons for life, not just walking several hundred miles in Spain. (If you're interested in reading her story or listening to her podcast, click here.)

What I learned, in no particular order:

- I can't control the weather, but I can control how I react to it. Prepare for the worst, but hope for the best. And since I've read the forums, I have a rain jacket, poncho that fits over me and my pack, rain cover for my pack, and a warm fleece to wear under this all in case it's wet and cold. Although I really hope to be walking in shorts and a tank top...

- Pare my kit down to the essentials, since I have to carry everything. In my case, an eyebrow pencil might be an essential since it looks like I have no face otherwise. But seriously, have you ever carried a hurt or a grudge that just got to be too much work to drag along? I have, and it was such a relief to just let go.

- It's not just the Big Goal, but it's all the steps involved too. To me, that's another way of saying it's not about the destination, but the journey, which is something I told our kids when they were little and whining about how far the trip was to Grandma's. (Seriously, try to keep three little kids entertained for nine hours one way. The six-hour trip to visit Nana was much easier.)

- Listen to and respect my body. It will tell me when I need to stop and take care of it. See my previous post about physical therapy, or check this out:

Last week

I went on a nice 6.2 mile walk with my friend and his dog. Kirk's legs are way longer than mine, the route was hilly, AND I was wearing my hiking shoes. I could feel a blister forming but did I stop to take care of it? You know the answer. I came home and told Dwight, in the immortal words of Leslie Knope, "Everything hurts and I'm dying." Next time we do this trail, I am wearing my running shoes and pre-taping where I know will be a problem.

- Enjoy the moment. Don't wait for joy; find something to be grateful for in the present. (In my notes I accidentally spelled it "greatful", which seems to fit.)

- Breathing! Especially when walking up mountains! Deep breaths calm the system down. Find your rhythm. This is actually one of the things I'm working on at PT, taking full breaths instead of the "fight or flight" shallow chest breathing.

- GOYA. This might be my new favorite acronym! It stands for "Get Off Your Ass" - not speaking for anyone but myself, but I know I can do this more.

The author of the video messaged me and asked if I had any questions. I told her the message would be so helpful for planning my September Camino, but it is basically a Life Lesson. She told me I got it (teacher validation! yay me!), and that all the answers are in front of us every day, no matter where we are. I love that.

This seems a fitting place to stop. I'll leave you with some calligraphy I posted on my Instagram account (@cathyboll) several months ago that seems to fit here.

Okay, it's a paraphrase, but you know if the Buddha was alive today, he would totally say it

Buen Camino!

Head and Shoulders, Knees and Toes (knees and toes)...

...eyes and ears and mouth and nose, head and shoulders, knees and toes (knees and toes.)

[Extra credit if you sang this pre-school song in your head.]

So as I mentioned in my last post, I was prescribed physical therapy to help with some hip pain I was experiencing. I was specifically sent to Dan Miller at Healing Motion Physical Therapy because, as my orthopod said, if he can't fix me, no one can. He would analyze my gait and he takes a holistic approach to healing. As much as I don't hesitate to pop the NSAIDs, I really don't like taking pills. I sat down with Dan at my first appointment and we chatted about what was going on and what I wanted to get out of treatment, namely to be able to walk the Camino. I mean, I was going to do it no matter what, but as walking up the two stairs from our garage into our house killed, I wanted a little help for those upcoming days of >900 feet of elevation change. That's right, OVER 900 FEET OMG.

Now I am no stranger to PT. I've had four knee scopes, each one requiring a few weeks of therapy, an elbow scope (another few weeks), and rotator cuff repair (five MONTHS). These are just the post-op conditions; there have been a few other times for other issues. I am as strong and healthy as a horse (hardy peasant stock, you know), but as Dwight says, orthopaedically I'm a lemon. And I'm not even a little bit offended because it's true.

So I went in figuring he'd do an exam, check my range of motion, see what makes me say "OW!", measure whatever it is they measure, give me a few exercises, pat me on the head, and send me home. Three weeks max and bam we're done. Yeah, it was none of that. I came home and when Dwight asked how it went, all I could say was that it was like no other PT appointment I'd ever had. It was a cross between physical therapy, massage therapy, meditation, chiropracty (not a word but you get the idea), counseling, and I don't know -  magic? He watched me walk, and then he had me watch me walk, which was only slightly behind trying on swimsuits in the Things-You-Don’t-Want-To-See-In-A-Giant-Mirror category. Dan basically looked at all the pieces to see how my body is working and where the weaknesses are to be causing my hip to hurt. He talked about the body, mind, and spiritual sides of healing and how they're all connected. He could help my hip stop hurting, but without fixing what was causing it to hurt in the first place, it would only be temporary. He's teaching me very slight specific movements, really just the initiation of that movement, that help with strengthening. Dwight calls them my "mind exercises", which I'm sure is what they look like to him.

I'm not doing a very good job at explaining, but after several weeks of help, I can sleep on my side without my hip screaming, I can stand up to put on my underwear (seriously, it was THAT bad), I can walk upstairs without a handrail while carrying a basket of laundry, I've taken several hikes with my pack, and can do all my daily activities with hardly ever needing to take drugs.

I'd be lying if I said everything is rainbows and unicorns all the time. We still buy Costco quantities of Aleve. I think about how I walk and sit and move. My promising basketball career is over; squatting to dribble and move laterally while playing with my favorite four-year-old made my hip angry. I still occasionally wake up in the middle of the night, and sometimes it hurts to hike the big hills. But compared to how I was at Christmastime, well, let's just say I'm a million times better. (Okay, maybe a hundred...) I have a few more appointments scheduled so I don't feel like a Jenga tower, waiting for that one piece to be pulled out and have everything collapse. Maybe Dan will fix my golf swing - or who knows, maybe he'll give me one.

The next time I see him I will tell him I am writing this post. I want to get his okay to use his name and information. If anyone in Omaha is looking for physical therapy, I got a guy. Seriously, when I win the lottery, not only am I getting shares in NetJets and a personal chef, but I am going to go see Dan for regular tune-ups.

[Edit: Dan said by all means to share his info; he has a pay-it-forward, or rather heal-it-forward philosophy. That is, share with others what has helped me. Click here to be taken to the website. And by all means, call if this is something you can use. Now I need to go reread all my posts since 2012 in case he reads this (Hi, Dan!) and finds out that as good an actor as I am, this little corner of my world is where I don't keep the crazy in the closet.]

Buen Camino!