Author Archives: treerabold

Now I Know How Others Live

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I just spent four days in Provincetown Massachusetts. If you haven’t visited Ptown, let me give you a quick explanation of the area. It is inclusive, nonjudgmental, diverse and so very different from anywhere else I’ve ever been.

I’ve written several times about my struggles as a masculine female being mistaken for a man. I stress when I even think about going to a public bathroom. Because I am regularly questioned, as though I don’t know which bathroom I belong in. I am called sir so often that when I am called m’am I want to hug the person.

I frequently ignore the people that don’t take a minute to recognize my true gender, or the people that insist I have mistakenly entered the wrong bathroom. But there are times it is hurtful. There are times it is embarrassing and there are times I just want to scream.

But the past four days have not been like that. Over the last four days I actually started going to the bathroom by myself. I have not required a friend to run interference in public restrooms. Every person I interacted with in Provincetown seemed to know instinctively that I was a female.

It is true that in Provincetown the number of LGBTQ individuals is much higher in percentage than other places in the country. So people living, working and visiting the area are more apt to avoid stereotypes. But the reality is, no one even looked twice at me. I was not an outcast. People did not look over their shoulders to make sure it wasn’t a guy in line behind them.

Maybe it wasn’t so much that the people living in Provincetown recognized that I was a female…maybe they just had more important things to do than judge other people. Maybe they figured I knew what I was and really didn’t need them to police me or monitor me.

Maybe they aren’t worried about the way the person next to them identifies their gender….maybe they are just busy being themselves!

I am truly grateful to have the opportunity to live like everyone else…even if only for a couple days.

Friendly…Or Not?

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My initial interactions with people in Boston left much to be desired. And I quickly fell into a dangerous trap of complaining “boy they sure aren’t friendly here.”
Then, our little group of tourists appeared on the streets of Boston, looking confused and lost. A stranger approached and asked if we needed help. She was extremely kind and full of helpful information.
Today I mistakenly stepped into the street before realizing a bus was trying to go my direction. I stepped back on the curb….the bus driver shook her head with disgust, accepting responsibility I apologized (her window was open). She continued to shake her head.
I began to realize the people that I felt were being rude were the people having to deal with pain in the butt tourists. Their lack of compassion for my need to make them smile made a little more sense.
What really made more sense was the idea that there are good people everywhere, not so good people everywhere and really not good people everywhere. It has nothing to do with whether the people live in Texas or Boston. It also doesn’t matter if they are black or white, christian or muslim, gay or straight….people are people. Sometimes perfectly good and kind people have horrible things happen and may not respond to us in a way we think is kind or appropriate. Unless we know their story, their emotional state or their recent interactions, we really have no reason to judge them or place our expectations of behaviors on them.

Its easy to forget that we are but a small speck in this great big world and sometimes other people may stumble over our feelings. Forgive them and move on. Appreciate the people that show kindness and share a smile with those that may not be having the best of days.O

First 100 Completed

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I rode 100 miles today on my bicycle. It was a a beautiful ride, the weather was perfect and I felt strong today. The hills were conquered and the the miles passed by with more ease than expected.

I felt strong throughout the ride and feel exhausted now. Needless to say I have little brain ability left to write this blog tonight.

However, I would like to say how thankful I am that I was able to complete the 100 miles and how much I am looking forward to the next ride!

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Me and my friend Rachael crossing the finish line

Reaching My Goals…

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Typically I listen to NPR (National Public Radio) when I’m working out. Wednesday I went to the gym, tapped on my NPR app. and opened up the TED Radio Hour. The first show listed was “Champions” I selected it with no preconceived ideas. However, this show was exactly what I needed.

The first person they interviewed was Diana Nyad, the extreme distance swimmer. She is one of my heroes. They also interviewed Pam Reed, ultra marathoner and Amy Purdy, world class snowboarder that happens to have two prosthetic legs from the knees down.

Listening to the program I realized it wasn’t one comment, or a deep profound statement that I heard, it was the overall idea that we all have the ability to reach down deep in our souls and meet the goals we set for ourselves. Maybe it is from fear of failure, maybe its from shear determination. But whatever the reason, success is possible.

Tomorrow morning I will ride my first century ride…100 miles from Boston MA to Hyannis Port MA. I am excited, I am nervous and I am determined. This radio program played through my earbuds at the right time. It helped give me that little piece of encouragement to push myself a little farther and not to stop.

One of my coaches in Junior High use to say, “when you don’t think you can go any farther, go a little more!” Obviously that has stuck with me (that was 40 years ago!)Tomorrow this is a mantra I may need.

My friend Joanne from the blog My Life Lived Full, shared advice with me that she shared with her son before his massively long bicycle ride….”it’s not a question of whether or not you will finish. You will finish.
The only question is how long will it take? … and how much will it hurt?

She is so right!

I am thankful for those that have encouraged me and supported me…even if they did not realize their words were helpful.
I am also thankful that I have an opportunity to expand my boundaries and reach just beyond any self imposed limits and become successful at reaching another goal.

Cycling…

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This past Saturday I rode 67 miles on my bike. This was in preparation for my first 100 mile ride (AKA Century ride) that will happen this coming Saturday.

Prior to becoming a cyclist, I thought cyclist were rude and unfriendly. Frequently on the trails they would fly by without warning and act as if it was the walker/joggers fault if there was a close call.

Since I joined this “club” of cyclist I’ve changed my opinion of those crazy bike riding people. For one, I understand the frustration of trying to share a trail with people that think nothing of spreading out across the path and not pay attention to the bikers trying to “pass on the left.” I’m not saying I think its right, I just get it.
The other reason I’ve changed my mind is, most of the cyclists I’ve met are really nice, helpful and passionate about their sport.

During the ride Saturday a gentleman rode up beside me and I complimented his bike. It was a really cool bike. Come to find out he built it himself. Over the next five miles I learned his occupation, his wife’s occupation and the occupation of both his daughters. I shared my line of work then I learned we both ride for health because we have both lost too many family members to heart disease.

Every group, hobby, or activity has its own code words, acronyms and maybe even handshakes. And overtime I have learned that despite being intimidated when first joining a new activity or group it always works out okay.

This biking thing has certainly worked out quite well. I’ve met good people, learned about a new sport and hopefully I’ve gotten a little healthier. I will never understand the guys that can ride a 25 MPH pace…but I’m thankful for biking all the same.

My Friend Commadore

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Those of you that have followed my Facebook page, 365 Days and Counting, for a number of years will remember Commadore.
I met Commadore during the summer of 2014. Him and his dog had travelled to Fort Worth from Florida, by bicycle, to take care of some personal business. When I first met Commadore and Missy (his dog) they were sleeping on the street. Over the next couple weeks we visited and got to know each other. Commadore never asked me for anything, he seemed content to have a friend.
Once Commadore’s personal business was complete he packed up the bike with Missy’s wagon attached, and headed back to Florida. Missy

We stayed in contact during his journey to Florida and fortunately we have stayed in touch off and on over the past two years. I say off and on because there have been times Commadore fell off the grid and I had no idea if he was ok. Eventually he would surface and call me to catch me up on what had been happening in his life.

His life has never been easy. It seemed each time we talked he was either excited about an opportunity or had hit yet another brick wall and was picking himself up and trying to move forward again.
Today Commadore called me. We talked for a few minutes before he told me he was in the hospital. Apparently he is quarantined with Tuberculosis and they also found a few spots on his lungs and are talking about doing biopsies. He has hit another brick wall. Needless to say he is scared.
As always Commadore put the needs of Missy before his own. When I asked him where his dog was staying he said she is with a friend and that he made sure she would be taken care of before agreeing to go into the hospital.Commadore

I am worried about Commadore and wish there was something I could do for him. The only thing I know to do is ask for your positive thoughts, prayers and good energy all directed at Commadore for strength and healing.

I told Commadore that he has a lot to do with the work I now do with the homeless and I am grateful for his friendship. I appreciate his willingness to allow me into his life.

A Child’s Future

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I first met “Sue” when she was 3 years old when her mom became one of my clients. They lived in an apartment building that was slotted to be demolished. Two different women babysat the little girl when her mom went to work. One had Alzheimers and the other one was a drug dealer.
We immediately moved them into a homeless shelter for families in hopes of getting them into a housing program.

Approximately six months later “Sue” and her mom moved into an apartment. A nice apartment with nice neighbors and a safe environment for a little girl to grow up.
We began surrounding “Sue” and her mom with a variety of supports in hopes of helping the child have as normal of a life as possible.

By the age of 6 years old we realized this child was quite smart and was already surpassing her mom intellectually. The child was becoming the parent, the parent was struggling, trying to figure out how to parent.

As the child worked her way through elementary school she was being recognized by teachers for her intelligence. Her grades were A’s and every once in awhile a B.
We continued to surround them with supports in hopes of helping “Sue” find her way through childhood, through teenage life, through school and hopefully onto a future.

Today I was honored to watch this young woman walk across the stage to receive multiple honors, including A – B honor roll. She is a pre-teen, heading into middle school. She has a long way to go but she has overcome such odds that I can’t imagine she won’t make it.

When I first met this young lady I said, “The fact that she survived the first 3 years of her life tells me she is meant for great things.” I believe this is true and i believe with the right supports she will make it.

I am thankful for those that have made an effort to support this family. The social workers, teachers, volunteers, and the people that see a young lady with great potential.

The Meaning of An Owl

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It was a few years ago, we had just finished a training walk for the Susan G Komen 3 Day, the walk leader passed out stickers of owls (yes, owls). She asked us to keep one of the walkers in mind. The walker she referred to I did not know but I learned she was battling breast cancer (again), and she liked owls.

As I left that training walk I stuck the owl sticker on one of the air vents in my Jeep. Every now and then I would look at it and think of this person I didn’t know, fighting a fight I had been fortunate not to fight (at this point in my life).IMG_2371

The summer went on and I still didn’t meet this mystery person but I continued to look at the owl sticker in my car and think about this person out there in the world fighting breast cancer.

When the 3 Day rolled around we all loaded in the bus and headed toward opening ceremonies. Through all the chatter in the bus I overheard something that made me realize the “owl woman” was on the bus. I asked the woman I suspected and learned I was right. I told her about the owl sticker and that I still had it in my car. We talked, we laughed, we hit it off.

Walking 60 miles in 3 days is a huge challenge. I learned that JoAnne had just finished chemo and would be walking the 60 miles. I was impressed by her determination and courage.

3 day with Joanne

(L to R) Anastasia, me and Stan, JoAnne 

She liked the sock monkey (Stan) I was carrying during the walk.

After the walk we played Words With Friends, we chatted occasionally on Facebook and at Christmas she sent me a new sock monkey…but we didn’t have time to really become friends. What I knew of Joanne I admired. She fought to the end, she had strength and a beautiful inner spirit that I was only able to get a short glimpse at.

I believe everyone comes into our lives for a reason and I believe Joanne came into my life to remind me to fight gracefully, take care of the vessel I have been given and to laugh.

I still have the owl sticker in my car and Stan (my monkey) and Cassidy (the monkey JoAnne gave me) ride along in my jeep everyday.IMG_2366

Though it makes me sad that I did not get an opportunity to know her better, I am grateful that I had the opportunity to know the lady behind the owl.

Weight Loss…or not

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Is it possible to lose weight at 53?
I am finding it a struggle.
This morning I went to my primary care physician to get my thyroid checked. We talked about all the things I already know…but sometimes fail to do. You know, don’t eat sugar (but cookies have sugar, chocolate has sugar and I love chocolate and cookies.) Sugar has been known to call my name in the middle of a TV show…causing me to pause the show and walk all the way to the kitchen to locate the little chatter box chocolate bar.

The majority of the time I eat healthy. I don’t eat meat. I don’t drink soda. I rarely eat fried foods. I do eat healthy breads. I do eat a lot of vegetables, fruits and plenty of beans. If I eat pasta or rice it is whole grain….so why is my belly still jumping around showing the world there is absolutely no muscle tone anywhere in that region?

I don’t know.

Did I mention I exercise? Oh yes….I do that frequently.

I’m guessing my thyroid results will come back fine. But I decided it was important to make sure I wasn’t beating my head against a brick wall. So assuming it comes back normal I need to rethink what is going in my body and where I might be lying to myself about my actual food intake.

As I ramble on, writing about what to eat and how to lose, I realize my moment of gratitude is that I have such a silly, 1st world problem.

There are people throughout this world that don’t have the opportunity to eat the diet of their choice.

I know I am fortunate and certainly blessed to have the opportunity to look at my diet and choose to make changes in whatever way I think is necessary.

And I’m certainly grateful to have the opportunity to whine about the struggle of weight loss at 53!

Lost Soul

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I could see him sitting against the building, about a block away. He was flicking both hands repeatedly. It was difficult to tell where one body part started and one ended because of the dirt that caked his clothes, face and hair.

We were passing out food bags to individuals living on the streets. Usually when we park our cars and begin passing out food, word spreads quickly and people come from all directions. This young man didn’t budge. He just sat, against the building, flicking his hands.

I’ve seen repetitive behavior like this before, sometimes from people that have been institutionalized, sometimes from people with intellectual disabilities (especially autism) and sometimes from people with mental health disorders.

I grabbed a bag of food, 2 small bottles of water and asked my friend Corey to walk with me. As we moved closer I mentioned to Corey the unpredictable behavior we could encounter. But I felt a need to try.
I began speaking to him before we got too close. I wanted to make sure he knew we meant no harm and I wanted to gauge his possible reaction to us.

I asked him if he needed something to eat.

He looked at me with kindness in his face, “Yes ma’am.”

I wanted to talk to him, but I was uncertain of his mental status.“Here is a bag of food and some water.”
“Thank you.” He accepted the food politely.

As I walked away from him I tried to wrap my head around the emotions I felt. He looked young, yet worn and old. He looked kind, yet on the edge of uncertainty. He looked like someone’s son, yet a lost soul walking among strangers.