A Trip Back in Time

~~ For my wonderful and 'forever' friend, "N"~~

Last month I bumped into my best friend from grade 2 while visiting my parents for the Easter Weekend. “N” was back in town visiting family for the weekend as well and when we ran into each other at the local liquor store we let out a school-girl squeal and rushed forward into a bear hug that must have encompassed a few years. We stood back and scrutinized each other – and decided that, yes, we looked exactly the same as we did back in grade 2 ;0). Aside from a brief visit at the Winnipeg Folk Festival about 10 years ago we hadn’t seen each other since University days by which time we had pretty much gone our separate ways – I had moved to a different town after grade 10 and different majors had taken us in different directions -- our paths hadn’t crossed much after that.

Interestingly enough it wasn’t the University years we’d gravitated to, but the first time we met (in grade two) and our very formative early high school years. We began to reminisce while our husbands stood patiently to the side balancing bottles of wine and assorted liquors for our respective suppers that evening. From that point it was a breakneck race to try to catch up on close to 20 years of being apart…

Flash back to 1972…I had been transferred (accidentally) to a different public school on the other side of town. I’m not sure why my parents didn’t correct the change but they let it stand. I was quite nervous about changing schools – especially after three years with my current friends. But a little girl with dark brown braids decided she would be my friend. I have a very distinct memory of riding home one day on the school bus repeating “N”’s phone number over and over in my head so I wouldn’t forget it: 52-18-52-18. I barely remember my own phone number from those days let alone any of my other friends from that era. I’m not sure what it is that bonds young girls of that age but whatever it was we connected early in the year and formed a tie that has remained to this day.

Like most young girls we idolized the older kids. Our object of affection was a grade 6 boy named Graham. We wrote a song about him and I can still remember the melody and lyrics to this day. I’m sure we scarred him for life with our constant fawning.

“N” and I were, in my eyes, inseparable for that year and then inexplicably at the end of the year I was transferred back to my original primary school for grade three onwards. “N” and I spoke on the phone from time to time during the years leading up to high school, but we found little to say since we were no longer in the same school.

Fast forward to high school and we easily picked up where we’d left off. We had our boy-crushes there as well, even going so far as to join the cheerleading squad so we could be near the sports-teams. We decided to take up tennis and went to the local Canadian Tire store to pick up cheap tennis racquets and some balls. My first serve went way long over the fence and out of the tennis courts. The two of us fell down laughing and we realized shortly after that that we weren’t cut out for tennis. We even joined the cross-country running team…for about a week. There wasn’t much we wouldn’t try, at least once.

 We had nick-names for each other, based on the first syllable of our last names. On my birthday one year “N” called and told me to listen to the local radio station. Sure enough shortly after that call I heard the radio announcer wish a “Very Happy Birthday to The Swan from The Pack”. I burst out laughing because he had gotten it totally wrong and I joked later that “The Swan” had a much nicer ring to it.

 “N” and I shared a passion for writing and photography. We would take our Kodak Instamatic cameras out on walks and compose what we thought were magazine worthy photographs of light dappled streams or fields of wind-blown grass. We took many portrait shots as well, of “dreamy girl staring off into the distance” or “pensive girl sitting on a rock lost in thought”. The poems we wrote were angst-ridden and love-lorn or adjective-filled descriptions of nature.

We spent many afternoons using our creativity, making mixed tapes using a tape recorder and a record player, building funky snowmen and experimenting with makeup and costumes but most of all we laughed a LOT. And that is what I remember the most.

We had so much more to say that day in the liquor store. I discovered that she, too, had embraced running and with her husband had decided to try to run 25 half marathons before they were 50. She urged me to do the same…heck I’m only three short and I have a couple years to do it. Maybe one day we can run one together…

We exchanged phone numbers (I didn’t memorize this one) and e-mail addresses and vowed to keep in touch. We each have two teenage boys so I’m sure we will have plenty more to talk about.

Another year in the books – Random Thoughts - 2011

At the end of 2010 I threw out a random list of things that were on my mind – some from the year that had just passed, and other things that were just “on my mind” and were really not worthy of devoting an entire blog to. Since this will be my first blog post of 2012 it will be more reflective on the past year than anything else.

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With each passing year I become more and more comfortable in my own skin and happy to be who I am, at any particular moment. Due to pestering injuries in 2011, I had to take a hiatus from running, but never for one minute thought that just because I wasn’t running, didn’t mean that I wasn’t a runner anymore. Monet will always be an artist, Stephen King will always be an author and I will always be a runner.

In 2011 I learned to embrace substitutes. Because I wasn’t running I needed to do something to keep myself from going bat crazy. My body is used to exercising and sweating and I needed to find an alternative. Ergo, the bike trainer. It was the bane of my existence for the first few months I rode, but in time it became something that I (*gasp*) actually looked forward to during the week. It is in no way a replacement for running, but it does get my heart rate up, and I don’t have to bundle myself up in a zillion layers to go outside to work out. (Which, by the way, is one thing I don’t miss about winter running.) But there are days I both curse and commend Coach Troy for his demonic workouts.

I figured my children would one day be taller than me, but when I saw them starting to tower over me it still came as a shock.

With the new coffee maker my mother-in-law purchased for us I fear I may have become somewhat of a coffee snob. This coffee maker has a bean hopper that you fill every few days and grinds the beans moments before brewing the pot. The stainless steel carafe holds 12 cups and doesn’t require a burner to keep the coffee hot (or continue to “cook” it). It’s funny what you get used to. I don’t think I could give that baby up without a fight! (firstworldproblem)

I have a Twitter account, but I still really don’t get Twitter…

I am almost 2 years closer to 50. That thought doesn’t scare me like I thought it would. Maybe because I still don’t even feel like I’m 40.

I wish I had more time to read…books, blogs, and articles.

That said, I have been listening to audiobooks during my walk to and from work each day. I liken it to being a kid again with a parent reading you a story. Books I have enjoyed include “The Art of Racing in the Rain” by Garth Stein (this had me in tears during my walk home – I hope people didn’t think me depressed), “Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close” by Jonathan Safran Foer (the movie by the way is in theatres) “A Visit From the Goon Squad” by Jennifer Egan (a quirky story that had a plot similar to what we computer programmers call “Spaghetti Code”. Each chapter dealt with a character who was introduced, sometimes in a very minor way, in a previous chapter. It kind of goes back and forth between past and present.), “A Kind of Vanishing” by Lesley Thompson, “The Sign” by Raymond Khoury (this book got my husband and I through 13 hours of driving between Calgary and Winnipeg last summer and made the hours fly by.), and “Hour
Game” by David Baldacci. I’ve toyed with the idea of listening to books when I start running again. I’ll have to get back to you on that depending on how it goes.

I could ramble relentlessly so that’s all I have for now. Hopefully the next blog post will be more worthy. I have a bunch of ideas, just not any that have come to fruition.

How much pain can we take?

When do we say we’ve had enough? Or do we? We are strange creatures we humans.


I was thinking about this the other day as well wishes poured in to a friend’s Facebook page. She’s a kick boxer who’s been actively training this year for her first fight. At the very least it was to be her only first and only fight, but I wondered (myself having trained intensively for 5 marathons and vowing just before each one it was to be my last) if it would be***. For most people just the prospect of going into the ring to fight would illicit feelings of terror, but she was also excited and very much looking forward to the experience. 

We have an amazing ability to block away the pain when an event is exciting or emotionally stimulating. Look at mothers who go through the pain of childbirth again and again. Before having my first child I was petrified. As much as I wanted that child, I was terrified of the pain I knew was coming. But shortly after the birth, while holding my newborn son I could barely remember the hurt. And against everything I would have predicted I remember telling my husband at the time that I could do it again, and did.

During my first marathon, where I pushed through the pain of a ripped-off big toenail for the last six miles, I never would have dreamed I would consider even coming close to wanting to do another. Yet walking away from the finish line, with the heavy medal thumping satisfyingly against my chest I was already planning it.

I think the more enjoyable the experience (or perhaps the final outcome) the more likely you are to block the memory of the pain. I’ve fallen on my mountain bike and ended up bruised, scraped and scarred more often than I’d like to admit. I’ve had to limp out of a trail because I couldn’t ride due to a  particularly bad fall, yet I love being on the bike, and the moment I see those trails I long to get back on the bike and ride, even though falling is a very real and painful conclusion. My husband broke his collarbone riding a couple months back and all he can talk about is getting back on the trails. We must mentally produce some kind of “hurt beta blockers” that only allow us to recall the fun we had.

Lately I’ve been sidelined by heel pain (known among runners as plantar fasciitis). I’m unable to run any decent distance without hurting afterwards. I am trying to be good and give it time to heal properly by stretching, icing, and exercises and most importantly, not running. That last piece is the most difficult. I know if I run, it’s going to hurt, yet the satisfaction I get when running would overshadow any pain experienced…until afterwards. I am resisting, but there are times I’m sorely tempted.

And it doesn’t stop at physical pain. I’ve had my heart broken so many times, once to the point where I didn’t eat for nearly a week because I hurt so much, and still I continued to open myself up to the possibility of falling in love. Because as corny as it sounds, true and honest love is worth it.

Maybe it simply comes down this, “It is always by way of pain one arrives at pleasure.”~Marquis de Sade.

***btw...For what it’s worth my money’s on “no”…;0)

Sometimes I'm Afraid to Blog

The title says it all.

I have a word document on my computer that contains the start of numerous blogs entries and a few finished ones. I just haven’t published them. There are many reasons for this. I’ve had a few not-so-positive experiences with some entries that I had been initially quite proud to post. By nature I am not a controversial person. I avoid confrontation like the plague, probably to my detriment. I know I should stand up for what I believe, but there are times when I just have to stand down and take the easy way out, even if it means not being able to share some of my opinions. I’ve lost a friendship because one person mistakenly thought I was writing about them and took personal offense to the post in question. At the time I had no idea that the snarky comments and then ignored emails had anything to do with what I had written. By the time he finally said something (via email) about it it was too late to mend what was left because he had made it very clear that he had made up his mind.

 This saddened me, and made me begin to re-think everything I posted. It is exhausting when you have to examine everything you write and then go back over it with a fine-tooth comb and question whether one of your readers could misconstrue what you wrote. I sometime go for weeks between postings because I am just too lazy to cleanse my entries. It defeats what I initially thought was one of the purposes of blogging.

I have many friends who also blog and I am guilty at times of reading more into what they have written. But I give them the benefit of the doubt, and recognize that their opinions are just that, opinions.

 I began to write fluffy, reflective posts that told a heartwarming stories, or reviews on places I’ve travelled to, or race reports. But a part of me resented having to compromise what I really enjoyed writing.

 I debated starting up an anonymous blog so I could write unfettered. I may still do that.

 So if I haven’t posted for a few weeks it’s not because I’m not writing. I am…I’m just sorry that you won’t be able to see half of it.

What keeps me young…

I’ve had people tell me that I don’t look my age, which in itself is quite flattering. Aside from the good genes I was fortunate enough to inherit (my mother looks amazing) I think the reason is because I refuse to age. At least on the inside. My inner age is closer to 23 than my real age (which is nowhere near 23).

The secret? I try to surround myself with youth. I have two teenage boys and I don’t hesitate to climb a tree with them or pull out a nerf gun for an all-out battle. Keeping up with them keeps off the years. I work in a college, and the majority of the students I see on a daily basis are under 25, most are under 20. Listening to them talk and hearing what they talk about keeps me in the loop when it comes to current trends in music and movies.

I participate in “fun” activities – some physical, some not, but most keep me smiling. There’s nothing like bar-hopping around the downtown wearing a red dress with 25 of my closest drinking club buddies, or hitting some scenic single track mountain bike trails with friends, or just running barefoot down the street and enjoying the looks I get (even now with the minimalist trend taking off like it has).

I embrace physical activity…I run, I bike, I swim, I walk, I ski, I stretch, I lift weights, I hula-hoop and I can tell when I need to do one of these to keep myself sane.

I love to play and challenge my brain daily…with board games, crossword puzzles, Wii and computer games.

I also like to learn constantly. The more I learn, the more I want to learn.

And most of all I love to laugh (at silly cards in the stationary store, at sit-coms on television, with my kids when they start speaking in crazy voices and with my husband who somehow has the uncanny ability to make me chuckle with two or three words) and I love to surround myself with people who make me laugh.

Even if I can’t stay young forever, I can certainly do the most to feel that way.  

One of these days…

…my body is going to scream “ENOUGH!”…but until that time I will keep pushing.

I often marvel at the resilience of the human body. If trained well it can take a lot of abuse being thrown at it. And even if it is not trained it can still take that abuse; it won’t refuse, but perhaps protest a little loudly.

On the past weekend I participated in The Swamp Donkey Adventure Race. This was the fourth year I’ve done this race. With each successive year the race organizers devise more and more challenging tasks to test our resolve and will to continue. For the fourth year in a row my team has finished upright and smiling (well…sort of grimacing really). It is amazing really. When we began this journey into adventure racing we had done a couple of city adventure races (mostly pavement/limestone trails) and found them challenging and fun at the same time. When the opportunity came up to try a full-fledged Adventure Race we eagerly signed up. What’s the worst that could happen? Famous last words…

The first year we barely knew what we were in for…riding heavy commuter bikes, relying on compass alone and disregarding a nearby trail that would have gained us extra time to complete the advanced course. By year three we felt like seasoned veterans with war stories to tell about getting lost and a team-mate slashing open his thigh but continuing the race despite the copious amount of blood running down his leg. Stitches should have been in order, but stubbornness and loyalty to his team kept him going.

So by the time we hit the start line this year we felt we could handle just about anything the race organizers could throw at us. We all had full suspension mountain bikes, a fiberglass canoe and more than a few hours paddling training. We had the experience and the training. We were ready. All things considered we did quite well. The race consisted of 11 km of bush-whacking (2:46), 8.5 km of canoeing(1:10) and 48.5(4:50) km of biking - much of it on single track trails and old logging roads. (+ transition times)

I am very conscious of fueling and hydrating during races. I have run 5 marathons and have always been able to put enough food/water into my body to keep it happy and not bonk. The adventure races are no exception. But you fuel differently in a race like this. You eat cookies and Pringles chips and pepperoni sticks. I figured I only took in about 1400 calories during the 9+ hours of racing – way less than I would have burned off. (Interestingly under no circumstances would I EVER be able to eat pepperoni sticks during a marathon but in this race there was no issue whatsoever.) My body took what I gave it and used it to the best of its ability. It adapts.

Because I am constantly doing some kind of physical activity, and aside from the paddling sessions, I didn’t actively train for this race. I cycle, I run, and I swim. I often take for granted my fitness level. And in doing so, I tend to take for granted my fellow teammates’ fitness as well. While none of us found ourselves unable to complete the race, it was difficult at times for us. My team is very empathetic. No one gets upset when delays happen. But we are stronger than we were last year, and the year before that.

Friends of mine were also racing but an 11th hour injury to one of their members resulted in a quick search for a stand-in. Unfortunately this stand-in had no time to train as he had no prior intentions of racing it. I worried about him because this race was once again tougher than previous years. Their team finished the short course (about 20km less than our race ended up with none of the technical biking required) about 30 minutes after we completed the regular. As predicted his body was not happy and although it got him through the race, it was apparent that he was going to be reminded of it for some time to come. The abuse we dole…:)

Three days later I still hurt in some places. My legs are weary and my bike commute is harder than it should be. But this will pass. The human body is resilient. When we put our mind to it, we can accomplish more than we ever thought possible.

BUT...I am still smiling.

More letters…

Dear High Schooler,

Wow, it seems like yesterday you were just entering grade school and here you are, thinking that you are all grown up as you enter high school. Slow down a little and enjoy the ride.

High school can be a scary and intimidating place. Remember how you feel this day, and keep that memory fresh for when you are in grade 12 watching the grade niner’s starting high school. Think about what would have made your day better, having someone show you where the cafeteria is, or directs you to the library, and then do it.

If you thought you made a lot of new friends in grade school and junior high, and all those people will continue to be your friends, think again. Teenagers are fickle and switch loyalties for the silliest of reasons. If you are looking for true, life-long friends, wait until you go to University.

Once again, you won’t be included in one of the “cool groups”. You will wonder how these groups form, and lose many hours of sleep wondering why they didn’t choose you to be part of their inner circle. But you will have your own group of two or three friends and this is what you will remember most from your high school years. Unfortunately you will change towns after grade 11 and have to start again from scratch, in a brand new high school.

You will shy away from team sports, but join the cross-country running team. Oh yeah, and you will hate it. No one will tell you how to train, so you will head out and run three or four miles after school. You will hardly be able to walk the next day, and you will recall that feeling each time you think about cross-country running. Thankfully the season only lasts for a month or two until winter sets in.

You will join the cheerleading squad. You won’t be the head cheerleader and you won’t date the captain of the football team. He won’t even know who you are, or see your cheers because unfortunately a girl named Candace will also join the squad. She is not as coordinated as you but she is tall and slim with strawberry blond hair and large breasts. She will be placed in the front row and during pep rallies everyone’s eyes will be on “Candy”. No, it’s not fair, but you have learned by now that life is anything but fair. You persevere.

You will form a Drama Club and it is here that your true talents will show. Your club will perform George Garrett’s “Sir Slob and the Princess” for surrounding grade schools, and you will travel to a regional Drama Festival where your club wins a bronze medal for its production of L.E. Preston’s one-act comedy “Last Weekend at High Ridge”. Your shyness will disappear, but only when you are onstage.

You will have your first real job in high-school – taking inventory in the school library at the end of the school year. You remember this job not for the plethora of books you need to document or the tedium of re-stacking them all, but for the lunch hour break each day when the librarian lets you go to the back room and watch an episode of “The Prisoner” series on VHS tapes. (“I am not a number. I am a person.”)

You will take driver’s education in the classroom with an instructor who has a glass eye. This will be the first time you’ve ever seen someone like this and it will disconcert you. Your practical instruction will be a woman who clutches a shiny red purse to her chest, and hovers her foot over the brake in the passenger side of the Driver’s Ed car. During the highway portion of training she will order you to honk at the pedestrians who are walking along the side of the road. This will embarrass you because these pedestrians are young men and you will feel self-conscious. During the parallel parking component she will tell you to back up farther…farther…farther until you bump into the car behind you. “That’s far enough” she will say and order you drive off without getting out of the car.

You will pass your driver’s test the first time but hesitate to drive anywhere because the only vehicle your family owns is a Dodge Club cab half-ton with a three-on-the-tree manual transmission. Your father will take you out on the back roads to teach you how to drive it and years later you will be thankful you learned to drive a stick early on.

Because you move in the middle high school you will miss standing up with all the people you went through school with from primary grades and up. You travel to attend their graduation and your four best friends (not surprisingly, three from the drama club) will surprise you with a school year-book signed by everyone in the class. You will be touched by all the kind words written by people you barely knew or hung out with.

If you are wondering why I haven’t mentioned any of your classes, it is because you excel in all of them. You are a good student and you will maintain an 80 average throughout high school. There isn’t much to say here except keep up the good work.

High school is a time where you begin to come into your own. There will be many lessons learned, and some of them re-learned. And most of these you will have to discover for yourself.

I’m proud of who you will become. And I admire your tenacity. You are stronger than you think. Remember that always.

You

P.s. In 25 years you will attend your High School Reunion. I won’t spoil it by telling you what happens but suffice it to say that you will be pleasantly surprised.