Life Happens.

Those of you who have spent at least 6 minutes in my company know that I like to plan. It isn’t just that I like to have a plan – I actually like the planning itself.

My plans are so comprehensive, there is a plan. There is a back up plan. Or two. Or three. There are plans for how to adjust if any element of the plan goes wrong. AND there are plans to completely ditch the plan if something more fun comes up.

It isn’t so much that I am married to any particular plan; it is that I despise sitting around, wasting time, asking, “what is there to do.” It is that I never want to miss a minute of the fun because I didn’t anticipate having to park 2 miles away and wait in a line for a shuttle.

I love researching a pop-up events this weekend, the newest restaurant, the best street food walking tour in Singapore, neighborhood parks for a picnic in Paris (why do my immediate thoughts all revolve around food?) . . . and then I love completely ditching the plan because Todd and Daphne come across a ghost tour and want to spend  the next two hours deciding if they are horrified or amused.

During the most active period of cancer treatment, I determined that the essential ingredient to sanity was “plan, plan, plan . . . and be ready to pivot.”

The best plans are so flexible, they never fail. They just mutate, sometimes beyond recognition.

However, to quote Robert Burns, even "the best laid plans of mice and men . . ."

For the past few weeks my plans and preference have had to succumb to the vagaries of life, which forced me to replace all of my social plans and all of my walking plans with responsible adult “resolve the problem” plans. Having resolved the issues that demanded my attention, I was rewarded with an uncommon, common cold – and filled my calendar with sit on the couch and feel pity for myself plans.

This necessitated a “get back on the road to the 3-Day” plan.

Historically, a cold could completely derail my fitness efforts. Given my favorite activity is laying on the couch with a good book – a week long cold could easily morph into 6 months of highly productive reading and zero interest in anything physical.

But I have a few breast cancer souvenirs that encourage a more physical lifestyle. If I am sedentary, lymphedema makes itself known and my chest is tight and my shoulders don’t move freely. With daily exercise, I have no physical complaints – just a day or two without getting in a few miles and my feet hurt so badly (a side effect of the hormone suppressant medication I will take for 5-10 years), I dread putting them on the floor in the morning. Rather than a gradual reduction of fitness, my body immediately makes it known that I better get moving "or else."

So, with my body actively encouraging me to get back at it, I made plans. This morning, Loki sat, tail thwacking, by the door urging me to get a move on it . . . and, as I walked with my friends, I heard about Susan’s upcoming road trip plans, learned the gorgeous purple wildflowers are lupine, and discussed definite articles in gendered languages in more detail than was probably necessary.

Loki

I’m now heading into the next week confident that this episode of “life happens” has been successfully navigated and my feet are solidly back on the road to San Diego in November.