I completed the Tour de L’Ile, a 76 km cycle tour in Montreal, with my husband in the first trimester of pregnancy.  We trained for a few months prior and in the middle of the race I lost him in the midst of thousands of cyclists to no avail.  As I crossed the finish line he was there with a big smile and a warm hug.  It was a great accomplishment for me physically and personally.  

Sweeping childbirth, multiple family deaths, cancer and more aside - though I must admit that saying that and actually doing that is difficult - I really think the tone of the question was meant to be in physical activity. 

Saying that, as must of you know my life has spent spent in the wilds, it is a matter of choices because I have had some touch-and-go experiences that could have gone either way at both ends of the earth.

Eight very adventurous people and guide had but one last day in Torres de Paine in Chilean Patagonia to climb as high on the mountain as possible.  Unfortunately, the wind gusts at the start were 80mph … as if the climb wasn’t steep enough.  At the first level spot after the first part of the climb, a 100mph gust hit the guide and I in the back, driving us at breakneck speed - actually our feet did not touch the ground - down the slope to the bottom.  We found ourselves propelled on level ground still pushed by the winds into a run at marathon speed until the 140lb guide grabbed by ski jacket, with the weight stopping us both.

We said nothing.  We turned around and went back up.  The worst was yet to come.  We came around a turn in the trail, finding our companions crouched on the ground against the katabatic winds (look up "katabatic" and you will understand but 4 houses 100 miles away were blown away completely that day). 

We gave up and were told to go at our own pace downward.  Most crawled. It was my second most favorite spot on Earth.  It touched my heart to be there.  So for one minute, I stood up to take one last photo up close of the most spectacular of the Towers.  I forgot about the wind gusts.  I had hung back, alone.  A 100mph gust hit me in the back, driving me - feet off the ground and blown like a newspaper - to the ridge of the cliff.  I dropped at such high speed that I was not with it for a while.

Too long a story of the rescue, but we were in no where.  The van driver find a piece of wood, and bound my arm and leg with tied rags that he wiped the van with.  We were 12 hours from the nearest hospital.  . and the others wanted to try another hike at lower levels.  I couldn’t blame them as this was heaven on earth - albeit with winds. 

I stayed in the van.  . and I AM a very good sport about things.  I wanted to go on that hike to the turquoise lake with icebergs floating also so I understood.  Late that night on a dirt road, we arrived at the small hospital.  My arm was the size of a blimp.  Everyone gathered around to see them try to bend it for the X-rays.  I fainted.  What a chicken I was.

But only at that moment.  There were no airports, no way out, and a week of hiking ahead.  The 1930s plaster cast was at least 20 pounds and don’t ask about the rest of me.  But I have photos of me, unbalanced on the slopes and casted, actually laughing.  17 years ago I was young and foolish.

One last portion of this.  As we got nearer to a local airport, our last beautiful adventure was to be on a small boat crowded with Chileans going the length of the uninhabited lake of turqoise blue with Fuji type volcanoes ringing it.  Stunning and worth it.  Until the engine stopped and the boat started to the forested shore miles from anywhere. 

A call went out to the only other boat (not ship) on the lake.  Finally it arrived before we hit the shallows.  The boats were tied together … and each of us had to jump from one boat to the other.  Someone caught each person as they dashed over the 32 degree water.  But I was hampered with leg and the huge cast that covered my entire arm.

I "listed".  The jump - a breeze for me normally - was not easy (underestimation by far).  But I did it.  And yes, I was written up in the Chilean newspapers for being blown off the mountain in the katabatic winds of that day. 

I think I could say that this trip of a lifetime - a trip that still remains in my heart for its beauty - was challenging.  But I never complained — and I proved to myself that I had what it takes. 

So the next year I did more.  . so typical of me. 

Last May I hiked up a mountain side in Rwanda to see Dian Fossey’s Gorilla’s in the mist.  Yes, they really are in the mist.  Coming from the plains of the midwest i was blissfully unaware of the effects of altitude.

We had walking sticks and guides to help push and pull us up the steep inclines.  I couldn’t understand why I could not breathe.  I thought what is wrong with me?   Finally somebody menitoned that we were about 10,000 feet up and it dawned on me. 

I am so glad I did it, at age 50, because I doubt I will ever do it again.