My life is changing, once again, in significant and unexpected ways. Life is like that. It has no respect for my plans or decisions.

I am testing the new boundaries of my life. This isn’t a new thing for me. I have often found it necessary to re-invent my life, to give rebirth to me.  Jesus isn’t the only one.

Some people are ABCD people, some people are JGXY people. That’s me. My life had ever progressed on a straight line, but here I am, getting to be where I want to be, becoming more at home in my own skin.

My heart surgery has sparked a new chapter, a re-invention.

A central artery had closed up six years after my open-heart surgery, and I was heading for trouble again.

For months, I was struggling to keep up my energy and exercise, I couldn’t really walk and couldn’t bear a gym.

I thought it was age, but I was sick. I’ve never been on good terms with my body, never taken good care of it. That must change. I have an opportunity few people my age have – to be healthy for a long time.

I finally called my cardiologist a month ago, told her about my increasing weakness and discouragement, and she sprang into action, ordering a week of tests in the hospital.

The tests resulted in the first of two surgeries last Monday, this one to clear the blockage and insert a stent, a small device that forces open the artery and keeps it open for at least a decade.

The surgeon who performed the surgery was thrilled with the results.

But he surprised me.

He said he thought I should have another operation to rehabilitate a third artery that was abandoned six years ago. There were new procedures but they were riskier than the catheter operation I had on Monday.

It had something to do with a wire.

He needed to do it at the Albany Medical Center, a vast medical facility 90 miles away. That’s where I had my open-heart surgery.

Why?, I asked.

Because this procedure had more risk attached, and in case anything went wrong, I would have to undergo a much more massive heart surgery procedure to keep me alive.

Or as one aide put it,  I needed to go to Albany “in case they have to crack you open again.”

That got my attention, but I didn’t hesitate for a second.

If the surgery works, I will have all three major arteries to the heart 100 percent open, for the first time in many years.

The bar will be lifted for me, the boundaries widened. Old talk and old thinking can be fatal in itself, instead of taking care of my body or talking to my doctor, I just accepted that I was drifting into a passive new space, preparing for the last chapters in my life.

But I have so much to live for.

I love my wife, my blog, my farm, my dogs, my donkeys and sheep, my photography, my writing, my friends, my faith, the Army Of Good, my life of meaning and purpose.

I didn’t want to let any of it go, or surrender to the idea that I am finished. I am as old as I want to be or think I am.

And lo, I am not surrendering. I’m excited, what a gift.

I have my full life, and it will get fuller. I guess miracles do happen, my angel is up there shaking her head at me, kicking me in the ass.

This morning, my catheter site was especially painful and uncomfortable. I was tired from sleepless nights after the surgery.  It was not a big deal, except for my body.

The doctors told me I could ride my bike any time I wanted after Saturday, yesterday. Friday, I walked too many miles and was exhausted.

The bike still holds fear for me. It’s a tough old issue for me.

But there was no way I wasn’t going to test my new boundaries. Even with the one surgery, my angina is gone and my energy is resurging.

I had a tough time this week.

The incision spot hurt, my legs are sore and I don’t trust myself on the bike.

I wasn’t going to ride again today, but when I woke up, I went straight to my sweatpants and got dressed to ride.

It took me ten minutes to get going, and I had mishap after mishap.

My foot kept slipping off the pedal, causing the bike to lurch. I panicked when that happened, grabbing the breaks by mistake, causing the bike to lurch dangerous close to the traffic.

The cars were whizzing past me on that road, some just two or three feet from me.

I wanted to call Maria to come to get me or turn and walk home. I didn’t do either of those things.

I remember thinking okay, okay, okay, keep going, keep going, don’t quit, this is not the end of something, but the beginning. I reminded myself that a hero isn’t someone who is brave, but someone who overcomes his or her fear.

Figure it out, I told myself. Get back on the horse. And I did. I went a mile down the busy road and then veered off onto one of my favorite country roads (above photo) where I biked easily and with increasing confidence for several miles.

I loved that road and love that ride.

Coming home was rough, a heavy wind blew in my face, slowing the pace and requiring heavier pedaling.

My foot was slipping off the bike again. I stopped a few times and kept going and made it home. Maria said I looked exhausted and made me sit down.

I drank some water, rested for 15 or 20 minutes, and I thought I had overstepped my boundary once again. I got up, showered, had something to eat. Maria was worried about me, I could see it on her face.

We went outside and Maria put foot straps on the pedals so that I can’t slip again.

We sat together holding hands outside, it is a beautiful, crisp, windy fall day. It was a soothing day.

Then we drove to the Farmer’s Market and bought some food for dinner, we have a guest coming tonight.

“You know what?” I told Maria.

“What,” she said.

“I feel fine now. I’m myself. I learned a lot on this ride, I didn’t really overdo it, I didn’t stretch my boundaries. Now, I’ve got to write about it.”

“Great,” she said. “That’s what you do.”