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This time of year, when winter is disappearing and spring is stepping forth, often feels unstable. One hour, you’re slipping on half melted dirty ice and getting honked at by some woman in a grungy car, and the next you’re marvelling at the beauty of the first opened flower, the miracle of breathing, just being alive together.
Last fall, I decided that I would sign up for a two-day bicycle ride that would cover 240 kilometers. The ride would take place on the one-year anniversary of my cancer operation. This, by itself, wouldn’t appear all that significant, except for the fact that I am not a hardcore bicycle rider and therefore I would have to take some very disciplined measures to get myself ready for the long two day ride.
My mother Grace is in her 83rd year and it would be completely understandable and deserved, if at this age, she chose to spend her days relaxing, napping, or reading for hours. And, while she does spend some time doing all three, much of her time is spent truly ‘living’; a rich life filled with family, friends, daily activities and evening social events, and opportunities to learn something new.