Grappling With PD

I used to say that, and it used to be true.  For a long time, probably my entire adult life, I had good reflexes, balance, and coordination.  Likewise, for at least five or six years post-diagnosis, it continued to be the case tat I did not fall. Then the exceptions started. First there was the infamous broken leg after the BRR in September 2022.  That was quite serious, of course . . . but as a fall?  I stepped off a ledge that I could not see in the dark, and at that point my options consisted of fly, float, or fall.  I'm not a bird nor a balloon, so of course I fell.  That situation was so freakish and unlikely to be repeated, though, that it was hard to say that the I-don't-fall era was at an end. Next there was a nasty spill on a trail run nearly a year later, in June 2023.  I wrote about it at the time (https://grapplingwithpd.blogspot.com/2023/06/the-good-bad-and-ugly.html); that was another freak accident, although not nearly as unlikely to h...

Gunsite 250 I almost did not go. The trip was not planned very far in advance, and my main goal was to get Charlie into the youth 250 class.  Money has been tight, and I was planning to spend the week working.  I asked for and received approval to work remotely . . . and then spent a few weeks pondering what I should do.  All of this was really just a smoke screen that I was using to hide the real issue:  fear.  Fear of the unknown, fear of failure, fear of being embarassed in front of my peers, fear of not meeting the instructors' expectations. Fear that I would not be able to find even a small piece of the old me, and that there was nothing left to find.  Fear that the younger, healthier "two-gun Greg" from years ago at a place that no longer exists, was simply dead and gone.  I did not expect to finish the week.  To be honest, I wondered if I would make it through the first day. So what happened?  Why did I change my mind and go?  I w...