I competed in a running race today, which is Sunday. Not to be confused with the previous day which was Saturday - the day I thought the run was on. Which isn't a big deal when you live in the city the race is in. Then, getting the day wrong is an annoyance. But when you live in the country and you drive an hour into the nearest town to find out that you got the date wrong, that can be classified as a royal pain in the ass, not to mention a waste of gas. And now after writing that last sentence I can't help but think of that obnoxious bumper sticker I used to see on the odd vehicle: "Ass, Gas or Grass - nobody rides for free". I wish I hadn't thought of that to be honest because now I have visions of some big, stupid truck with that bumper sticker along with those mud flaps that have a female big boob'd silhouette and probably some fuzzy dice hanging on the rear view mirror. Jesus, this is like a bad song in my head. Oh shit... now I have the song "Oh What a Night" going off. Most likely one has to be over 40 to even remember that crappy song. Now I'm dating myself. Boy, these tangents can get perverse.
Lets get back to the race shall we? I got there this morning to see what I expected to see yesterday. People in tights and shorts milling about, a race clock and orange tape marking the finish line - this looks right!
I got my race number and began to feel the familiar jitters that accompany a race. These were very mild jitters compared to trail marathon butterflies which, when I think about it, are more akin to marauding elephants. An 8km distance is fun and even if it isn't fun, at the very least its short term non-fun compared to 4 or 5 hours of marathon non-fun. The main difference now though is that in years past when I ran plenty of 10k races I was only competing against myself and not my peers. The easy answer as to why this was is simple; I was a slow runner. It wasn't for lack of trying, I trained diligently. However, the idea of being competitive enough to even make it into the top 10 of my age category was kind of laughable. I'm not being hard on myself, its just the plain truth. It never dulled my enthusiasm for racing though. I loved getting the T-shirts, training, the camaraderie of like minded friends and of being a "runner". Being a slow runner was immaterial to me, I was happy to race against myself and keep improving. Getting on a podium was completely out of my league.
After 20 years of running, the unthinkable happened, this fall I made it on the podium for a second place finish in my age category in a trail Half-marathon in Canmore. To say I was on cloud-nine would be a gross understatement. It didn't matter to me that there were only 4 women in my age category. Making it to the podium in my mid-40's was like a minor miracle, I didn't think I had it in me.
What has been on my mind since then is: "Can I do it again or was this a one off?" I was eager to test myself on the Trail Marathon in Napa and I trained like a dog for that race in preparation. But as un-luck would have it, I started to feel poorly a couple days before the race and once I was actually in the race I quickly realized that finishing would be my reward - and it was. So after a month of recuperating from pneumonia, I got back running again and started to feel strong enough to try something less strenuous but still interesting. This 8km race seemed like the perfect venue.
I hadn't run a shorter distance road race in so long I really had no idea of what to expect from myself. I knew from the last relay race I participated in this past summer (Hood to Coast), that my overall speed had improved and I had every reason to assume I could run faster than I did 10 years ago. But how much faster? I checked out the last years race results that were posted online to get an approximate benchmark of the times in my age category: 40-49.
After guestimating my race pace, I surmised that there was a "reasonable" potential that I could finish in 2nd or 3rd in my age category. Maybe - why not? It was worth a go at any rate.
Once the race started I promised myself I would push in pursuit of my time goal - I could suffer for 38 or 40 minutes if need be. The suffering was minimal and by the 7km mark I knew I would make my time goal. Man that felt great! Based on last years results that would have gotten me a second place finish (in my category) but this year it was a third place finish. The 2 other gals were faster than last years placings and good on them! What jazzed me was getting on the podium again, it's a rush! I know it doesn't mean much in the big scheme of things but finding some measure of personal success in this sport "now" in my mid 40's is super-cool to me. My glory days aren't in the past, in fact it's the complete opposite. The best is NOW and who would have thunk? Talk about delayed gratification! I think I enjoy it now way more than if it had come easy to me when I first started running.
What ever age we are I think its important to acknowledge our accomplishments when they present themselves. Not just in sports of course. Perhaps the win is in satisfaction from a career, raising great kids or surviving life's difficulties. Maybe the win is more subtle in the knowledge that we can persevere with grace and actually get better at things like acceptance, patience and empathy. It might be as simple as recognizing how far we've come and choosing to focus on the pluses not the minuses.
I'm going to stop now lest I turn this blog into some sort of Hallmark Card euphamism and say something really barfy like "Dance like nobody is watching" or "Love like you've never been hurt."
In light of that: "Ass, Gas or Grass - Nobody rides for free" doesn't sound so idiotic after all. Now if I could only get that stupid song out of my head it would all be good. Sing along with me! "Oh I... got a funny feeling when she waaalked... in the roooom..."
.
Sunday, May 6, 2012
Wednesday, May 2, 2012
Lake-side musings.
The doctor gave me a clean bill of health today, it's nice to be germ free! Yesterday I went out for a run. I put on my weighted vest and wrist weights and did some hill repeats to see how that would feel. It was surprisingly good. I would have expected that after a month off my fitness would be abysmal but I was happy to find it's not bad all things considered.
Sunday was a beautiful warm day, I went for a run while Mary Ann rode her bike along side me. Afterwards, I ended up on her patio drinking wine with her while her husband George played with their dog Maverick in their yard. It was rare as George is usually working in his shop restoring a Ford hotrod. They have an amazing view of the lake from their lake front house. There are still vestiges of the life they had with their kids; a tire hanging in the trees. Now both of their boys are living their lives in Edmonton. It must seem like a blink of an eye for parents going crazy with helpless babies, then young kids morphing into argumentative teens and suddenly they're gone and so is all that frenetic business. For people such as myself who never had children there was the gap between my friends with children and those of us who didn't - their time was taken up with child rearing and it's probably far easier to hang with other parents. I think it's because they all agree to not hear the kids running, screaming and probably drawing on the wall with crayons in the other room. No one has to feel bad or apologize. That makes perfect sense to me.
It can be similar in the climbing culture. Sometimes its easier to hang with other climbers who don't question you about your "adrenaline addiction" or not-so-secretly wonder when you'll grow out of this crazy "climbing phase". Those of us firmly steeped in the climbing life never have to explain to each other about taking managed risks or ignoring money concerns in favour of a new rope or road trip. Not that I had that problem I have to admit. Lucky for me as an oil and gas employee I had plenty of disposable income. I'm glad I funnelled a decent amount into forced monthly RRSP contributions because its damn easy to spend your cash when you climb and/or like to travel and have figured out ways to do both at the same time. I don't regret the money I spent, no way Jose. It can be all encompassing though - like a crazy passionate love affair. That's what it was like. Good and bad times. Now.... it has a lesser hold on me for certain. I miss some parts of it and I'm looking forward to getting out sport climbing with friends when I get to Calgary. It won't ever be like it was for the first 5 years though, so much to discover and learn. Since Colin's passing it's never been quite the same and yet every day I am so thankful for the skills I've developed over the years out there. I'm a mountain person now. It's in my bones and while I don't have the same passion for getting in the vertical world I feel a deeper respect and kinship with Mother Earth. She is the grounding I seek and out here in Fraser Lake I've found the perfect mix of being with my parents and her at the same time.
Its cool because my mom has a love for wildlife that I enjoy and find intriguing. Mom is quite content watching nature from the safety of her kitchen window or yard. She's never had the exploring spirit in the way that I do and nor does she need to. While she deeply appreciates animals she's also quite fearful of the big ones, especially bears and a close second would be the cougar. Mom is a lover of little birds, eagles, crows, squirrels, otters, ducks and deer. She also appreciates the wolves and coyotes from a safe distance. She is extremely observant of their comings, goings and behaviour, sometimes weaving narratives of what is going on in their lives and motivating their behaviour.
Mom: "The wolves go visiting their friends across the lake." (in winter)
Lise: "Really? How do you know?"
Mom: "I can tell! One runs across the lake looking like he knows exactly where he's going and the others wait for him."
Lise: "Ah..."
Mom: "That poor crow is all alone, she must be ostracized by the other birds, I wonder what she did? Birds are never alone this time of year"
Lise: "Well... maybe that's the male bird and the momma bird is laying eggs in the nest?"
Mom: "Hmmm..."
Mom knows when the geese will be arriving on their migrations North, approximately when the hummingbirds will come looking for their feeders and keeps track of the arguing among the tree sparrows fighting over the right to use one of the bird houses.
When the weather is nice Mom likes to sit outside either in the front or back depending on the heat of the day. I like to join her and mostly we look around at what's going on with the animals. Both her and Ray find my cat Bomber an endless source of entertainment and today was no exception. Today was a big day for Bomber.
He caught a mouse.
I have to admit that I didn't think Bomber had it in him, not really. He caught a bird once at my house in Calgary but I chalked it up to being a fluke. He's never seemed overly motivated. I've certainly watched him stalking things but he could never close the deal. While he's been here he has begun to increase the range of his wanderings. We've watched him spend plenty of time staring at other critters, moving slowly and methodically towards them but he usually gets distracted with something else. This morning he certainly closed the deal for Mr Mouse. I was busy repainting the picnic bench and I could hear this crow really close-by insistently cawing up a storm. I decided to go over and investigate, when I saw the aftermath. Bomber was snacking on the mouse's innards and the crow was staring down from a low brand and appeared to be yelling at Bomber, most likely to share his booty. I have no idea if Bomber was a callous murderer playing with the mouse prior to death or not as when I saw him he was calmly eating the mouse completely ignoring the crow's admonishments. Maybe he is a cold blooded killer after all.
I knew this was news mom and Ray would be interested in so I gave a yell to mom to let her know. She was proud of Bomber and praised him like a pleased grandma. Ray was pleased with him as well. It appears that Bomber has finally made the transition from city-slicker cat to an official rural menace to varmints.
After 2 days of drizzling, windy weather we were graced with sunshine this morning. Feeling some cabin fever I needed a project. I had been eyeing up the picnic table as it was starting to look old and weathered.
Ray went and got me some paint and after an hour or so of sanding I was able to start painting. It looks like new. Ray must have had cabin fever too because he was on a tear today, getting the sander ready for me, going into town to haul garbage to the dump, drop off bottles at the recycling place, buy the paint, get the mail, come back and fix some posts on the front deck, overturn one of the boats so he could use it to go check on his sump pump in addition to walking around the yard and up and down the incline from the lake to the house.
By the time he came in he was exhausted and started to complain about how out of shape he is, yada yada yada. I reminded him about what he did today and that it's not crazy for him to be tired by now. I don't think he realizes how much walking he does in a day when he's puttering around.
Tonight its quiet out here, who am I kidding... every night is quiet around here. The sun is shining but the wind picked up so it's a wee bit cold to sit on the deck. A perfect opportunity to blog!
Sunday was a beautiful warm day, I went for a run while Mary Ann rode her bike along side me. Afterwards, I ended up on her patio drinking wine with her while her husband George played with their dog Maverick in their yard. It was rare as George is usually working in his shop restoring a Ford hotrod. They have an amazing view of the lake from their lake front house. There are still vestiges of the life they had with their kids; a tire hanging in the trees. Now both of their boys are living their lives in Edmonton. It must seem like a blink of an eye for parents going crazy with helpless babies, then young kids morphing into argumentative teens and suddenly they're gone and so is all that frenetic business. For people such as myself who never had children there was the gap between my friends with children and those of us who didn't - their time was taken up with child rearing and it's probably far easier to hang with other parents. I think it's because they all agree to not hear the kids running, screaming and probably drawing on the wall with crayons in the other room. No one has to feel bad or apologize. That makes perfect sense to me.
It can be similar in the climbing culture. Sometimes its easier to hang with other climbers who don't question you about your "adrenaline addiction" or not-so-secretly wonder when you'll grow out of this crazy "climbing phase". Those of us firmly steeped in the climbing life never have to explain to each other about taking managed risks or ignoring money concerns in favour of a new rope or road trip. Not that I had that problem I have to admit. Lucky for me as an oil and gas employee I had plenty of disposable income. I'm glad I funnelled a decent amount into forced monthly RRSP contributions because its damn easy to spend your cash when you climb and/or like to travel and have figured out ways to do both at the same time. I don't regret the money I spent, no way Jose. It can be all encompassing though - like a crazy passionate love affair. That's what it was like. Good and bad times. Now.... it has a lesser hold on me for certain. I miss some parts of it and I'm looking forward to getting out sport climbing with friends when I get to Calgary. It won't ever be like it was for the first 5 years though, so much to discover and learn. Since Colin's passing it's never been quite the same and yet every day I am so thankful for the skills I've developed over the years out there. I'm a mountain person now. It's in my bones and while I don't have the same passion for getting in the vertical world I feel a deeper respect and kinship with Mother Earth. She is the grounding I seek and out here in Fraser Lake I've found the perfect mix of being with my parents and her at the same time.
Its cool because my mom has a love for wildlife that I enjoy and find intriguing. Mom is quite content watching nature from the safety of her kitchen window or yard. She's never had the exploring spirit in the way that I do and nor does she need to. While she deeply appreciates animals she's also quite fearful of the big ones, especially bears and a close second would be the cougar. Mom is a lover of little birds, eagles, crows, squirrels, otters, ducks and deer. She also appreciates the wolves and coyotes from a safe distance. She is extremely observant of their comings, goings and behaviour, sometimes weaving narratives of what is going on in their lives and motivating their behaviour.
Mom: "The wolves go visiting their friends across the lake." (in winter)
Lise: "Really? How do you know?"
Mom: "I can tell! One runs across the lake looking like he knows exactly where he's going and the others wait for him."
Lise: "Ah..."
Mom: "That poor crow is all alone, she must be ostracized by the other birds, I wonder what she did? Birds are never alone this time of year"
Lise: "Well... maybe that's the male bird and the momma bird is laying eggs in the nest?"
Mom: "Hmmm..."
Mom knows when the geese will be arriving on their migrations North, approximately when the hummingbirds will come looking for their feeders and keeps track of the arguing among the tree sparrows fighting over the right to use one of the bird houses.
When the weather is nice Mom likes to sit outside either in the front or back depending on the heat of the day. I like to join her and mostly we look around at what's going on with the animals. Both her and Ray find my cat Bomber an endless source of entertainment and today was no exception. Today was a big day for Bomber.
He caught a mouse.
I have to admit that I didn't think Bomber had it in him, not really. He caught a bird once at my house in Calgary but I chalked it up to being a fluke. He's never seemed overly motivated. I've certainly watched him stalking things but he could never close the deal. While he's been here he has begun to increase the range of his wanderings. We've watched him spend plenty of time staring at other critters, moving slowly and methodically towards them but he usually gets distracted with something else. This morning he certainly closed the deal for Mr Mouse. I was busy repainting the picnic bench and I could hear this crow really close-by insistently cawing up a storm. I decided to go over and investigate, when I saw the aftermath. Bomber was snacking on the mouse's innards and the crow was staring down from a low brand and appeared to be yelling at Bomber, most likely to share his booty. I have no idea if Bomber was a callous murderer playing with the mouse prior to death or not as when I saw him he was calmly eating the mouse completely ignoring the crow's admonishments. Maybe he is a cold blooded killer after all.
I knew this was news mom and Ray would be interested in so I gave a yell to mom to let her know. She was proud of Bomber and praised him like a pleased grandma. Ray was pleased with him as well. It appears that Bomber has finally made the transition from city-slicker cat to an official rural menace to varmints.
After 2 days of drizzling, windy weather we were graced with sunshine this morning. Feeling some cabin fever I needed a project. I had been eyeing up the picnic table as it was starting to look old and weathered.
Ray went and got me some paint and after an hour or so of sanding I was able to start painting. It looks like new. Ray must have had cabin fever too because he was on a tear today, getting the sander ready for me, going into town to haul garbage to the dump, drop off bottles at the recycling place, buy the paint, get the mail, come back and fix some posts on the front deck, overturn one of the boats so he could use it to go check on his sump pump in addition to walking around the yard and up and down the incline from the lake to the house.
By the time he came in he was exhausted and started to complain about how out of shape he is, yada yada yada. I reminded him about what he did today and that it's not crazy for him to be tired by now. I don't think he realizes how much walking he does in a day when he's puttering around.
Tonight its quiet out here, who am I kidding... every night is quiet around here. The sun is shining but the wind picked up so it's a wee bit cold to sit on the deck. A perfect opportunity to blog!
Thursday, April 26, 2012
Spring has sprung!
Spring is alive and well out here on the North Shore and is expressing itself in the changing movement of the ice on the lake. Each day the ice appears to be ever so thinner and ever so mobile as smaller pieces of ice meander into our bay only to move along later in the day. Today I watched a lone seagull standing on the thin ice looking like he was waiting for something interesting to happen. The birds are pairing off left right and centre, crows are cawing less and cooing more. It's an interesting sound they make when they're courting; a throaty clicking sound as they're snuggling up to each other. There's been a juvenile eagle hanging out by the point. He hasn't developed his white head and tail yet but he's rather large so mom figures he's about 4yrs old. He made a half-hearted attempt to snag a duck on the water but nothing came of it.
My pneumonia is almost a memory as I feel myself getting stronger. I went out for an easy jog this week and as I didn't double over in a coughing fit or need to take a 2hr nap after, I know I'm on the mend!
Ray and I have been puttering in the yard this week. Ray is eager to shrug off the winter induced quietness and has been getting out walking, clearing brush and mowing the back lawn with his tractor. I think he's a shining example for people who have 110 reasons not to exercise because he's out there walking as far as he can with his cane, stoically dealing with sore muscles and happy to get back out there the next day. You can't get out and exercise? Really? The 93year old guy is making you look bad by the way. :-)
Even mom is getting out for a walk every other day. Her and I watch for birds, try to locate nests and enjoy the outdoors.
The great part about the warmer weather is our cocktail hour is now on the front deck when we can. There is nothing quite like sipping on a Rye & Coke over looking the lake in the afternoon sun.
The most surprising thing for me this week was during one of our lunchtimes. I had made a salad mostly for myself as I didn't expect either Mom or Ray would be too interested. I made a Kale salad with Kale (of course), hemp hearts, cauliflower, grated carrots, raisons, green onions and radishes. I made a balsamic vinegar/olive oil/maple syrup dressing. It's a power packed super food meal but I don't necessarily expect either of my parents to share my interest in whole food eating. I made it in the morning so the kale could absorb the dressing and soften. I had put most of it in a bowl and put it in the fridge but I had left some in a salad bowl on the counter. I was busy in the morning and I came upstairs at about 12:30 while mom and Ray were eating lunch. Then I noticed "what" Ray was eating: he was happily chowing down on my Kale salad! I looked over at mom and I quietly raised my eyebrows and she flashed me a smile and shrugged her shoulders over Ray's meal. She told me later that he grabbed the bowl off the counter, never asked her what it was and just started eating it. Well I'll be! :-) I put my freshly grown sprouts on the table and offered them to Mom and Ray too. Mom eyed them suspiciously then gave them a try. I try to cook food that they probably would never cook for themselves but is flavourful and healthy. When in doubt I put maple syrup on it - no kidding. Ray isn't fussy for salmon? No problem! I served it baked in a Maple Garlic Glaze and he was in heaven! While I still prefer a meal focussed on veggies, Ray's hamburgers are tasty indeed and who cares about the fat and cholestoral for a night. Mom made a stew from a moose roast that had been given to them. I probably react to eating moose meat like Ray would to drinking my Vega super-green smoothie: No thanks. Boy was I wrong. Mom's stew was full of potatoes, carrots, turnips, cabbage, gravy and fall off the fork lean moose meat. It was delicious and incredibly good for you. OK, the fried bannock I made to go with it perhaps wasn't so healthy but it's all good in moderation.
The bonus to our (mostly) healthy eating is that mom's blood pressure is way down and she's lost 10lbs over 4 months. Ray continues to amaze me with his strength and solid constitution.
We've raked up most of the leaves and Ray burned them in one of his ditches. The rest of the leaves are waiting by the burning barrel.
Tonight the song birds are singing like a symphony, it's quite spectacular. Unfortunately it's a cool evening so I won't be sitting outside to hear their song.
I'm looking forward to getting out for another run tomorrow. The pneumonia has left me thinner and most likely with reduced cardio capacity but I can start back slowly and be patient.
That's about it for now!
My pneumonia is almost a memory as I feel myself getting stronger. I went out for an easy jog this week and as I didn't double over in a coughing fit or need to take a 2hr nap after, I know I'm on the mend!
Ray and I have been puttering in the yard this week. Ray is eager to shrug off the winter induced quietness and has been getting out walking, clearing brush and mowing the back lawn with his tractor. I think he's a shining example for people who have 110 reasons not to exercise because he's out there walking as far as he can with his cane, stoically dealing with sore muscles and happy to get back out there the next day. You can't get out and exercise? Really? The 93year old guy is making you look bad by the way. :-)
Even mom is getting out for a walk every other day. Her and I watch for birds, try to locate nests and enjoy the outdoors.
The great part about the warmer weather is our cocktail hour is now on the front deck when we can. There is nothing quite like sipping on a Rye & Coke over looking the lake in the afternoon sun.
The most surprising thing for me this week was during one of our lunchtimes. I had made a salad mostly for myself as I didn't expect either Mom or Ray would be too interested. I made a Kale salad with Kale (of course), hemp hearts, cauliflower, grated carrots, raisons, green onions and radishes. I made a balsamic vinegar/olive oil/maple syrup dressing. It's a power packed super food meal but I don't necessarily expect either of my parents to share my interest in whole food eating. I made it in the morning so the kale could absorb the dressing and soften. I had put most of it in a bowl and put it in the fridge but I had left some in a salad bowl on the counter. I was busy in the morning and I came upstairs at about 12:30 while mom and Ray were eating lunch. Then I noticed "what" Ray was eating: he was happily chowing down on my Kale salad! I looked over at mom and I quietly raised my eyebrows and she flashed me a smile and shrugged her shoulders over Ray's meal. She told me later that he grabbed the bowl off the counter, never asked her what it was and just started eating it. Well I'll be! :-) I put my freshly grown sprouts on the table and offered them to Mom and Ray too. Mom eyed them suspiciously then gave them a try. I try to cook food that they probably would never cook for themselves but is flavourful and healthy. When in doubt I put maple syrup on it - no kidding. Ray isn't fussy for salmon? No problem! I served it baked in a Maple Garlic Glaze and he was in heaven! While I still prefer a meal focussed on veggies, Ray's hamburgers are tasty indeed and who cares about the fat and cholestoral for a night. Mom made a stew from a moose roast that had been given to them. I probably react to eating moose meat like Ray would to drinking my Vega super-green smoothie: No thanks. Boy was I wrong. Mom's stew was full of potatoes, carrots, turnips, cabbage, gravy and fall off the fork lean moose meat. It was delicious and incredibly good for you. OK, the fried bannock I made to go with it perhaps wasn't so healthy but it's all good in moderation.
The bonus to our (mostly) healthy eating is that mom's blood pressure is way down and she's lost 10lbs over 4 months. Ray continues to amaze me with his strength and solid constitution.
We've raked up most of the leaves and Ray burned them in one of his ditches. The rest of the leaves are waiting by the burning barrel.
Tonight the song birds are singing like a symphony, it's quite spectacular. Unfortunately it's a cool evening so I won't be sitting outside to hear their song.
I'm looking forward to getting out for another run tomorrow. The pneumonia has left me thinner and most likely with reduced cardio capacity but I can start back slowly and be patient.
That's about it for now!
Saturday, April 14, 2012
Post Marathon et al.
Its April 14th which means I've been recovering from Bronchitis for about 3 weeks now, hence my radio silence. I'll back track to the marathon.
A friend and runner gave me some sage advice about races which I've pulled out of my memory in times when I needed to be philosophical. Dave said: "Just remember, that no matter how hard you train or if you've done everything right, on Race Day sometimes it will be a PR (personal record) day and sometimes it won't be. If it's not your day it's not your day."
I got sick the day before my race. And like Dave says, that's the way it goes. The day was rainy, wet and slippery. The course was challenging as I expected. I completed the race on the slower scale of my guestimate of 4hrs57min so I can't complain - much. ;-)
On a better note my friend Maddy did exceptionally well. I am always amazed at how strong she can run given that she is often busy with life and work and she fits in training when she can. I've never met someone who can train about 2 days a week, can stay relatively injury free and continues to improve her time. Wholly Doodle.
Our other fried Margot was perhaps the most heroic of us all. She was in the Half Marathon and around the 10km mark she tripped and twisted her ankle badly. She stopped for a bit to decide if she wanted to keep going and found that she wanted to keep going. I'm not sure how she finished the race in that condition but she did. After the race her ankle was swelling up 3 times its size and a bruise was starting to form from the tips of her toes to just above her ankle. By end of the race us three amigos were Maddy-the-wonder-woman, Lise-the-sicky and Margot-the cripple. We made a fine post race trio!
My biggest regret of the trip is that I got my friend Michele sick. She recently had back surgery which was beset by complications and only had recently been back to work. The plan was for me to stay at her place after the marathon. But the plan was definitely NOT for me to bring sickness with me. As much as I tried to contain my coughing and not spread germs it didn't work. I felt awful about it and I do hope she eventually forgives me. :-(
It was fun to be in the big city and hanging out with my friends but by the end of my trip I was more than ready to get home. Being a tourist when you're not feeling well isn't that great. The last couple days I was on my own and I did the best I could taking in museums and walking around Berkley campus but mostly I wanted to be heavily medicated and not having embarrassing coughing fits in public.
I got home on Monday and once mom saw my wretched condition she moved into nurse-alert mode. I didn't help matters that I had one of my coughing fits shortly after I got home. They suck and apparently are alarming to watch. She made me a hot ginger and lemon drink and then proceeded to start giving me medicines. First there was the throat lozenges, then Buckleys cough syrup, then the Advil and Vicks Vapo Rub and then Ray suggested Camfor oil on a kleenex to clear my sinuses. I took everything they handed me with nary a complaint. What I was really appreciating was the mothering. After living for almost 10 years by myself it is a wondrous feeling to feel cared for. Not long after being home I was snug as a bug in my bed and nodding off in a pharmaceutical induced haze.
The next day I did get to the local clinic to get checked out. The nurse's diagnosis was Viral Bronchitis which is something that I've dealt with before. There isn't much that can be done for a viral infection, it must run its course. The best a person can do is support the healing process by getting a ridiculous amount of rest, drink plenty of fluids, boost the immune system as best one can and have patience. I can appreciate why it's called a virtue, as I find it exceptionally difficult to do!
At times like these I think about the central teaching of Eckhart Tolle which is basically: "It just is." What he means is that rather than try to analysis (my personal favourite) or resist life's current circumstance, one is better served to simply allow it to be. (not my personal favourite)
While I've been convalescing I've been reading lots, sleeping plenty and sitting outside when the weather allows me to. I've gone for a few walks but they haven't been helpful yet. It's difficult to feel so weak after months of hard training but wait... what does Eckhart say again? Oh ya, quit complaining and accept it.
The ice is slow to leave the lake this year, it's not walkable nor skiable anymore but as always it's interesting to watch the goings on of the animals that live on or near the lake. I haven't seen the otters in the past 3 weeks but the ducks have begun to arrive.
The central point of interest for us right now are the geese - they're returning to this area. We usually hear the honking first and then I start scanning the sky. Soon one can see the V formations of the birds tracking above. They aren't landing here yet as there isn't enough open water. Once the ice is gone they'll land. It's a wondrous sight to see them. What I find most interesting is when they seem to reorganize themselves in mid flight. The V's aren't exactly uniform and seem to be a series of organized trails overlapping each other in flight like a beautiful dance.
Perhaps one of the more interesting developments out here has been my decision to stay longer. My intent had always been to head to the Nelson area in June. However the longer I stay here with my parent the more it feels right to stay. My parents and I have developed an easy-going living arrangement. My parents like the company and so do I. I'm useful here and I like being closer to my family.
I'm starting to consider buying property out if the right opportunity presents itself. I'm putting out a few feelers with the locals. Out here the grapevine is more efficient than looking for something in the local newspaper. The locals can tell you about a potential property, its pluses, minus, the history, the relative worth of the property and salient details (aka: gossip) of the sellers. I'm not in any hurry though and would most likely try to rent a place on the lake first.
I'm definitely keeping my options open and my decisions will be based on how things go with Mom and Ray, how long they feel they can live on the lake and where they want to live once they decide to leave here.
It's funny how things change. Before coming out here I wouldn't have dreamed that I would consider calling this area home. But once out here, I came to realize that I like it and there are activities I'm really enjoying like cross-country skiing and soon kayaking. I'm quite keen to join the biathlon club in Burns Lake. I've found running trails to challenge me and I'm starting to make friends.
Spending time and living with my parents is a deep and gratifying experience. It's reminded me about what is truly important to me - my relationships. And I'm closer to my brothers who live in Prince George. The quiet life here appeals to me. Sure it gets boring at times and when I feel a sense of cabin fever I know its time to go visiting other places. I was fortunate enough to have my friend Maddy take me to California for the running race. Walking in San Francisco and spending time with familiar friends filled my need for excitement. Soon I will drive to Calgary to reconnect with friends, climb, hike and run. That is if my bronchitis releases its hold on me!
Being here is cultivating my ability to be fluid to change and to allow new thoughts and new dreams.
Life is good.
A friend and runner gave me some sage advice about races which I've pulled out of my memory in times when I needed to be philosophical. Dave said: "Just remember, that no matter how hard you train or if you've done everything right, on Race Day sometimes it will be a PR (personal record) day and sometimes it won't be. If it's not your day it's not your day."
I got sick the day before my race. And like Dave says, that's the way it goes. The day was rainy, wet and slippery. The course was challenging as I expected. I completed the race on the slower scale of my guestimate of 4hrs57min so I can't complain - much. ;-)
On a better note my friend Maddy did exceptionally well. I am always amazed at how strong she can run given that she is often busy with life and work and she fits in training when she can. I've never met someone who can train about 2 days a week, can stay relatively injury free and continues to improve her time. Wholly Doodle.
Our other fried Margot was perhaps the most heroic of us all. She was in the Half Marathon and around the 10km mark she tripped and twisted her ankle badly. She stopped for a bit to decide if she wanted to keep going and found that she wanted to keep going. I'm not sure how she finished the race in that condition but she did. After the race her ankle was swelling up 3 times its size and a bruise was starting to form from the tips of her toes to just above her ankle. By end of the race us three amigos were Maddy-the-wonder-woman, Lise-the-sicky and Margot-the cripple. We made a fine post race trio!
My biggest regret of the trip is that I got my friend Michele sick. She recently had back surgery which was beset by complications and only had recently been back to work. The plan was for me to stay at her place after the marathon. But the plan was definitely NOT for me to bring sickness with me. As much as I tried to contain my coughing and not spread germs it didn't work. I felt awful about it and I do hope she eventually forgives me. :-(
It was fun to be in the big city and hanging out with my friends but by the end of my trip I was more than ready to get home. Being a tourist when you're not feeling well isn't that great. The last couple days I was on my own and I did the best I could taking in museums and walking around Berkley campus but mostly I wanted to be heavily medicated and not having embarrassing coughing fits in public.
I got home on Monday and once mom saw my wretched condition she moved into nurse-alert mode. I didn't help matters that I had one of my coughing fits shortly after I got home. They suck and apparently are alarming to watch. She made me a hot ginger and lemon drink and then proceeded to start giving me medicines. First there was the throat lozenges, then Buckleys cough syrup, then the Advil and Vicks Vapo Rub and then Ray suggested Camfor oil on a kleenex to clear my sinuses. I took everything they handed me with nary a complaint. What I was really appreciating was the mothering. After living for almost 10 years by myself it is a wondrous feeling to feel cared for. Not long after being home I was snug as a bug in my bed and nodding off in a pharmaceutical induced haze.
The next day I did get to the local clinic to get checked out. The nurse's diagnosis was Viral Bronchitis which is something that I've dealt with before. There isn't much that can be done for a viral infection, it must run its course. The best a person can do is support the healing process by getting a ridiculous amount of rest, drink plenty of fluids, boost the immune system as best one can and have patience. I can appreciate why it's called a virtue, as I find it exceptionally difficult to do!
At times like these I think about the central teaching of Eckhart Tolle which is basically: "It just is." What he means is that rather than try to analysis (my personal favourite) or resist life's current circumstance, one is better served to simply allow it to be. (not my personal favourite)
While I've been convalescing I've been reading lots, sleeping plenty and sitting outside when the weather allows me to. I've gone for a few walks but they haven't been helpful yet. It's difficult to feel so weak after months of hard training but wait... what does Eckhart say again? Oh ya, quit complaining and accept it.
The ice is slow to leave the lake this year, it's not walkable nor skiable anymore but as always it's interesting to watch the goings on of the animals that live on or near the lake. I haven't seen the otters in the past 3 weeks but the ducks have begun to arrive.
The central point of interest for us right now are the geese - they're returning to this area. We usually hear the honking first and then I start scanning the sky. Soon one can see the V formations of the birds tracking above. They aren't landing here yet as there isn't enough open water. Once the ice is gone they'll land. It's a wondrous sight to see them. What I find most interesting is when they seem to reorganize themselves in mid flight. The V's aren't exactly uniform and seem to be a series of organized trails overlapping each other in flight like a beautiful dance.
Perhaps one of the more interesting developments out here has been my decision to stay longer. My intent had always been to head to the Nelson area in June. However the longer I stay here with my parent the more it feels right to stay. My parents and I have developed an easy-going living arrangement. My parents like the company and so do I. I'm useful here and I like being closer to my family.
I'm starting to consider buying property out if the right opportunity presents itself. I'm putting out a few feelers with the locals. Out here the grapevine is more efficient than looking for something in the local newspaper. The locals can tell you about a potential property, its pluses, minus, the history, the relative worth of the property and salient details (aka: gossip) of the sellers. I'm not in any hurry though and would most likely try to rent a place on the lake first.
I'm definitely keeping my options open and my decisions will be based on how things go with Mom and Ray, how long they feel they can live on the lake and where they want to live once they decide to leave here.
It's funny how things change. Before coming out here I wouldn't have dreamed that I would consider calling this area home. But once out here, I came to realize that I like it and there are activities I'm really enjoying like cross-country skiing and soon kayaking. I'm quite keen to join the biathlon club in Burns Lake. I've found running trails to challenge me and I'm starting to make friends.
Spending time and living with my parents is a deep and gratifying experience. It's reminded me about what is truly important to me - my relationships. And I'm closer to my brothers who live in Prince George. The quiet life here appeals to me. Sure it gets boring at times and when I feel a sense of cabin fever I know its time to go visiting other places. I was fortunate enough to have my friend Maddy take me to California for the running race. Walking in San Francisco and spending time with familiar friends filled my need for excitement. Soon I will drive to Calgary to reconnect with friends, climb, hike and run. That is if my bronchitis releases its hold on me!
Being here is cultivating my ability to be fluid to change and to allow new thoughts and new dreams.
Life is good.
Monday, March 12, 2012
The Race
I'm surprised at how much can go on in between blogs in this sleepy backwood called the North Shore of Fraser Lake. I've learned a thing or two about the local venacular which includes the fact that there is a distinction between living "in" Fraser Lake or "on" Fraser Lake. Living "in" Fraser Lake means residing within the actual village limits. Living "on" the lake is usually accompanied with a descriptor of exactly "where" on the lake you live. Simply saying: "I live on Fraser Lake" will garner you either a look of puzzlement as to why you aren't finishing your sentence or a wary look that indicates that you "Aren't from around here". Although if one wishes to get picky then shouldn't the sentiment of "You aren't from around here" indicate exactly which "here" one is not from? The proper answer to the statement of where you live is: "I live on the North Shore of Fraser Lake" with the caveat that you are speaking while outside of the Fraser Lake area. If you are having this conversation while in the local area then you would say: "I live on the North Shore" and all is well with you and the locals.
Being from someplace else is no problem as long as you actually know someone from here. Having a relative as a resident is even better. I climbed up the rung slightly by mentioning that I'm staying here with my parents. There is always a good chance that a local will know the person or persons of whom you speak or they might know someone who does. Simply being a stranger doesn't get you too far in these parts. Strangers include transient workers, most of the aboriginals living on the 2 local reserves, and people passing through enroute to someplace else. It's not that people here are unfriendly per say, but I would say they can be cautious. And they have good right to be so. It's not all country roses out here when it comes to crime and nastiness. More about that in another blog when I'm ready to write about it.
Being a "sort-of-local" gets me by in conversation but my social equity rose like a shooting star when I had something to talk about that a local would be interested in; like being by hit by a moose.
"You got hit by a moose?"
"Sure did! Here on the North Shore!"
"REALLY? Whoa. Where exactly?"
Of course then you must get specific and know your roads and cross roads because people will want to know precisely where this awed and feared event happened. Awe-inspiring because you're still alive to talk about it. Fear-inspiring because no one wants it to happen to them. I like telling stories to willing audiences and the tale is quite captivating if I do say so myself.... :-)
About The Race.
I wrote in a previous blog about the epic adventure to Ormand Lake with Mary Ann. Ormand Lake was so last week...
Mary Ann and I did make another journey out there, partially. We both decided that the actual 15 miles was harder than either of us wanted to tackle. Our last day out there we avoided the last 3mile hill and enjoyed our day out. We were ready for another challenge. Why not compete in a local Cross-Country Ski Race. How hard could it be?
Famous last words me thinks.
I do need to back up just a tad because there was another pivotal ski day that influenced our race today. Last week we had a quintessential ski day. Perfect ski snow, blue sky and plenty of fun! We skied to a small island in the middle of the lake. During the summer the island is off-limits as it's a protected breeding ground for all the local Seagulls, hence the name Gull Island. The gulls have left for the winter and we were free to roam this small little island. It's a crazy skiers theme park if you want to huck yourself off small cliffs, which Mary Ann and I most definitely did not want to do. We skied down the gentle hills to practice our turns and snow-plow skills. We played around, carving turns, falling, getting up when we fell down and repeating the whole thing. Eventually we wanted something different so decided to ski across the lake to an area on the shore that had bigger and longer hills. For a couple hours we herringboned up and skied down in beautiful powder, testing our balance and intestinal fortitude to climb up higher and ski down farther.
Today while on the race, I thanked my lucky stars that we spent the day teaching ourselves how to turn and snow-plow. It saved my bacon that's for sure - no falls.
About a week ago, while on a trip to Burns Lake, Mary Ann and I had checked out the cross country Ski trails at the Omenica Ski Club. The Ski Club boasts being in existence for over 85 years making them the oldest club in Canada. At the ski area there was a ski waxing hut, club house and plenty of trails. We were both psyched to come back and check out the groomed trails. Up to this point all I had been exposed to was skiing on the lake, breaking my own trail and following skidoo trails into the bush.
I was excited to find out on the internet that this club was hosting a race. There were 2 categories; a fun category that didn't include being timed an a standard race which included a mass start. In each category one could choose the 12km, 25km or 50km course.
I like competing so I knew I would sign up for the race category. I like to know how fast or slow I am. There was the issue of which distance to choose but heck, Mary Ann and I had already skied 28km to and from Ormand Lake so I couldn't see the logic in entering a shorter race. And besides I needed a solid cross-training day for my marathon training anyhow. I let Mary Ann know that I planned on competing in the timed race; 25km division. She decided she wanted to do the same. I made sure she knew that I didn't expect her to join the same race. I wanted her to have fun for her first race. I may not be a skier but this ain't my first rodeo as far as races are concerned. But this was all a first for Mary Ann. She was resolute, she wanted to ski in the 25km race too! Okey-Dokey.
We decided that we should get out to the ski area to at least familiarize ourselves with the trails. What an eye-opener!
I've never skied in a track before. I had assumed that it should be easier, no breaking trail, just follow the track. Well... it doesn't "quite" work like that. We stood before the trail map at the trailhead. It was a tangled mess of routes that would rival a Paris subway map. It was inscrutable to both of us so we ended up pointing our skis in one direction and hoping for the best. The first hill didn't look too bad but I wasn't entirely sure what I was expected to do; do I stay in the tracks or go to the side? I felt sort of obligated to use the track as there it was all nice and set like that, I positioned myself in the grooves and off I went!
Wrong choice.
As I began to pick up speed I realized to my great dismay that I now lost my ability to snow-plow or do much of anything as I rocketed ominously down the icy tracks. There was a corner coming up fast and I had no idea how to navigate it and decided that making a leap for the snow bank was the best choice. At that point, after getting myself out of the snowbank, it dawned on me that I wasn't in Kansas anymore. Mary Ann didn't fair much better so we decided that maybe this trail wasn't so cool after all. We herringboned back up the hill and went back to the map to look at it more carefully and find the easiest trail. To be fair, the day we went out was not the best; At first the tracks were crazy fast but then large, moist flakes of snow descended on us getting us wet, cold and turning the snow into the dreaded and feared "snowball snow". We were forced to turn back and went to the waxing hut to see if we could change our wax. I called the store where we both bought our skis and got an on-the-phone-tutorial about waxing our "wax less" skis. We found the proper temperature wax in various and sundry offerings left behind by other benevolent skiers. The ski hut has vices for the skis and irons for applying the wax. I had never waxed a ski before but the ski guy on the phone made it sound do-able. I listened to Mary Ann as she repeat the complex instructions she had received from her skiing guru-sister-in-law about waxing skis. Apparently waxing is an art and science in which everyone has their own opinion. I tried my best but I knew it wasn't the best wax job, let's call it what it was; a hack job. It would have to do. We headed back out to the trails only to find that the snow had changed yet AGAIN and now our wax was causing us to slip and slide without any kick. We tried, we really did, but we couldn't ski ourselves out of a wet paper bag that day. It was frustrating as hell and being cold and wet wasn't helping. It didn't take long for both of us to decide our ski day was officially over and we headed into the small town proper for lunch.
By this point our grandiose idea of racing the 25km race seemed stupid and probably dangerous. I like a challenge as much as the next ADHD adrenaline junkie, but I don't fancy getting injured before my marathon. Both Mary Ann and I began to convince ourselves that the 12km would be more realistic, fun and we had less chance of looking like complete unprepared idiots in front of others. We drove back to town with dampened spirits and a more sober attitude.
But you can't keep overly optimistic gals down for too long. By the next evening, I decided that God hates a coward and I shouldn't be such a baby - I could do 25km. Mary Ann had come to the same conclusion for herself. We knew the Race would be hard (as we reasoned over wine) but it couldn't be harder than Ormand Lake could it? No way Jose!
Yes it could. Yessiree Bob!
First the good news: The conditions were awesome! It had snowed the night before, and stayed cold for the morning. I took some practice glides and my skis were gliding gloriously. Hallelujah! The folks at the club seemed like nice people as outdoor enthusiasts often are. With a shared interest it's easy to strike up a conversation and club members usually welcome new faces and potential members.
The other racers were a combination of adolescent ski-club kids with a smattering of parents and senior-ish folks. I've learned my lesson over the years regarding those crafty, gray-haired competitors. Most of them are sand-baggers of the highest order. They'll talk in that self effacing manner designed to lull you into a false sense of security; that you have nothing to fear from them. Oh contrare. They're out to kick your ass and most likely they can.
While we were waiting for the race to start, I struck up a conversation with one of the guys who had track-set the course. I asked him about the best strategy to get down the hills while in the track. He quickly told me that staying in the track on the downhill was dangerous and he didn't recommend it all. "Stay out of the track, you'll have more control snow-plowing down the hill and you can control your speed."
Perfect advice! Too bad Mary Ann wasn't listening at the time. Her husband had suggested that if she wanted to make up time during the race then she should be fearless and point her skis down and GO! Good advice for an easier course. He said after the fact that he didn't think steep hills would have tracks set in them because that would be stupid. Unfortunately for Mary Ann she took his advice literally. Now the bad news:
Poor, poor Mary Ann.
Her first race ever can only be described as EPIC.
Mary Ann was concerned she'd be last in this race but she sure didn't expect to get off route and to be scaling hills of... well... EPIC proportions. While the rest of us were skiing the course, she was skiing Into The Void.
I think I was about half-way through the race when I began to seriously worry about Mary Ann. This course was hard. It can only be described as a fucking roller coaster. I knew that this club had held a national competition here a few years back but I never connected the dots that indicated they could hold a world class race because the terrain was world class. Ya, world class all right - world class hard. I had to stop at a few points to decide which way I should go so I knew it could be tricky for her.
I realized that this course was going to be difficult for Mary Ann. As enthusiastic and game as she was, that doesn't provide endurance and cardio for the long haul and it doesn't give you experience. I was the newbie skier yes, but I've competed in many running races and I'm fit in preparation for my marathon. I was worried for her.
But little did I know she was lost out there having taken a wrong turn! I was preoccupied by other matters. One being something I didn't know about cross country skiing: there are different "styles" of skiing. One is called "Classic" and the other called "FreeStyle". Or we could rephrase that by saying one style is old-school and slow and the other style is new-school and fast - Hello skate skiing.
This competition was a Free-style event so any style was allowed. Classic skiing is like bringing a knife to a gun fight if everybody else is skate skiing. Which they were, oh how they were.
What that means is that while I was gliding along the flats and herringboning up the hills, the skate skiers were flying past me like they had wings. I mean seriously, to watch them move up those hills with grace, speed and power almost made me want to throw my big, heavy skis into the bush. For that day anyhow, because actually, I love my skis. For what I do out here on the north shore; skiing on the lake, breaking trails and using skidoo trails, then you can't beat my skis. They're strong and utilitarian. But they ain't skate skis. Soon all the skiers, young and old alike, left me in the dust.
Everyone except for one little fledging kid and MIA Mary Ann.
I crossed the finish line having completed the 25km race in 2hrs47min. That seemed like an infinitely long time but I was philosophical about it. This was a training day for me and it had been fun and I got shown in exquisite detail the differences between cross-country skis and styles. I gotta get me a pair of those skate skis STAT!
I started to wait for Mary Ann. I expected her to be slower. Ok, I expected her to be A LOT slower. I just hoped that she had persevered over the difficult, hilly terrain.
I put my gear away, went to the clubhouse, started chowing down on the after-race meal of homemade chill and waited by the window to catch Mary Ann. This race was sort of weird as you ski right past the finish line and still have another punishing 5km of skiing before you are graced with actually crossing the finish line. Psychologically I found that tough so late in the race, to be so close and yet so far from completion.
I had decided that when I saw Mary Ann crossing this point I would tell her what was coming up so that she'd have to opportunity to quit right there if she needed to. I figured that would be race enough for her and she had nothing to prove if she was exhausted. About an hour after I finished I saw Mary Ann approaching so I ran out to congratulate and talk to her.
Poor, poor Mary Ann.
Her eyes were as wide as saucers and she looked like she had seen a ghost. When she saw me there was no happy, tired smile and high fives. Instead out of Mary Ann's mouth shot: "I got LOST!!! I've been OUT THERE ALONE for HOURS!!!" As she gestured wildly to where she had just been.
"WHAT?? What happened??" I said
I didn't think her eyes could get any wider but they did and she began to nod rapidly in a slightly hysterical way. "I CLIMBED A FRICK"N MOUNTAIN!! THEY SAID I DIDN'T FINISH THE RACE!! THIS IS BULLSHIT!!" Her speech came in bursts like machine gun fire.
I realized that she was close to weeping. I must be a hard-hearted jerk because I found this funny in a macabre-laughing-when-someone-falls-down-the-stairs way. I started giggling and quickly said "Oh My GOD Mary Ann, what happened??" I began to notice that she was disheveled with her hair sticking out from her toque in a rakish sort of way. She looked so shell shocked and tragic and for some reason that made the situation even funnier. I guess in my defence I could see she wasn't obviously hurt and not in imminent danger now. Traumatized yes, but still walking, talking and gesticulating just fine.
She continued nodding at me frantically like a sketched out bobble-head and burst out: "AND I FELL! I fell so hard on my HEAD Lise, I left an INDENT in the snow!!" Now pantomiming what happened to her.
Now I seriously cracked up in front of her. Through my giggles I kept asking her if she was OK, and tried to piece together what had happened to her. I had to take a picture of her in this sorry state. I tried to get her to smile so we could pretend she had a good time but she couldn't muster it. I gave her a hug. People were stopping to eavesdrop about the EPIC, similar to folks driving by a car accident - you don't want to look, it's creepy, but you can't help it.
Basically from what I can ascertain, Mary Ann's strategy of pointing her skis in the tracks and GOING didn't do her any favours. She fell hard a couple times and hit her head so hard she saw stars.
At one point she exclaimed "I swear Lise, it was by only the GRACE OF GOD that I didn't fall more! I came SO close!!"
I couldn't help myself, I said: "Mary Ann, why didn't you snow-plow down the hills? Jesus, you could have killed yourself." I stopped short of saying: "What were you thinking??" That seemed too unkind, especially when she looked at me with the saddest, darn expression on her face and said quietly: "I didn't want to be last."
Mary Ann is a competitor and she did her level best. On the one hand I was incredulous that she would continue to hurl herself down the hills like she did, but I also couldn't help but have admiration for her sheer, gritty, determination. I marvelled to her how hard it is to over-ride ones' basic self preservation instinct like that. :-)
Both of us think that when she fell and hit her head it addled her brain somewhat and she made the wrong decision regarding which trail to take when she hit a Y in the trail. In short, she was overwhelmed. I've been there, it sucks. I really did feel bad for her.
Mary Ann didn't get an official time because technically she didn't finish the race. She learned some valuable lessons that she'll never forget. I told her that once you've had an EPIC then racing in the future will seem easier by comparison. It's true. It'll make a world of difference next time. Anyone who's had an EPIC mis-adventure in what ever chosen pursuit will attest to this. By the time she sat down, rested and had a bite to eat she was already saying she wanted to come back next year and do the 25km.
That Mary Ann, she ain't no quitter!
Both of us went to school today. I didn't hit my head but The Race seriously kicked my ass.
Being from someplace else is no problem as long as you actually know someone from here. Having a relative as a resident is even better. I climbed up the rung slightly by mentioning that I'm staying here with my parents. There is always a good chance that a local will know the person or persons of whom you speak or they might know someone who does. Simply being a stranger doesn't get you too far in these parts. Strangers include transient workers, most of the aboriginals living on the 2 local reserves, and people passing through enroute to someplace else. It's not that people here are unfriendly per say, but I would say they can be cautious. And they have good right to be so. It's not all country roses out here when it comes to crime and nastiness. More about that in another blog when I'm ready to write about it.
Being a "sort-of-local" gets me by in conversation but my social equity rose like a shooting star when I had something to talk about that a local would be interested in; like being by hit by a moose.
"You got hit by a moose?"
"Sure did! Here on the North Shore!"
"REALLY? Whoa. Where exactly?"
Of course then you must get specific and know your roads and cross roads because people will want to know precisely where this awed and feared event happened. Awe-inspiring because you're still alive to talk about it. Fear-inspiring because no one wants it to happen to them. I like telling stories to willing audiences and the tale is quite captivating if I do say so myself.... :-)
About The Race.
I wrote in a previous blog about the epic adventure to Ormand Lake with Mary Ann. Ormand Lake was so last week...
Mary Ann and I did make another journey out there, partially. We both decided that the actual 15 miles was harder than either of us wanted to tackle. Our last day out there we avoided the last 3mile hill and enjoyed our day out. We were ready for another challenge. Why not compete in a local Cross-Country Ski Race. How hard could it be?
Famous last words me thinks.
I do need to back up just a tad because there was another pivotal ski day that influenced our race today. Last week we had a quintessential ski day. Perfect ski snow, blue sky and plenty of fun! We skied to a small island in the middle of the lake. During the summer the island is off-limits as it's a protected breeding ground for all the local Seagulls, hence the name Gull Island. The gulls have left for the winter and we were free to roam this small little island. It's a crazy skiers theme park if you want to huck yourself off small cliffs, which Mary Ann and I most definitely did not want to do. We skied down the gentle hills to practice our turns and snow-plow skills. We played around, carving turns, falling, getting up when we fell down and repeating the whole thing. Eventually we wanted something different so decided to ski across the lake to an area on the shore that had bigger and longer hills. For a couple hours we herringboned up and skied down in beautiful powder, testing our balance and intestinal fortitude to climb up higher and ski down farther.
Today while on the race, I thanked my lucky stars that we spent the day teaching ourselves how to turn and snow-plow. It saved my bacon that's for sure - no falls.
About a week ago, while on a trip to Burns Lake, Mary Ann and I had checked out the cross country Ski trails at the Omenica Ski Club. The Ski Club boasts being in existence for over 85 years making them the oldest club in Canada. At the ski area there was a ski waxing hut, club house and plenty of trails. We were both psyched to come back and check out the groomed trails. Up to this point all I had been exposed to was skiing on the lake, breaking my own trail and following skidoo trails into the bush.
I was excited to find out on the internet that this club was hosting a race. There were 2 categories; a fun category that didn't include being timed an a standard race which included a mass start. In each category one could choose the 12km, 25km or 50km course.
I like competing so I knew I would sign up for the race category. I like to know how fast or slow I am. There was the issue of which distance to choose but heck, Mary Ann and I had already skied 28km to and from Ormand Lake so I couldn't see the logic in entering a shorter race. And besides I needed a solid cross-training day for my marathon training anyhow. I let Mary Ann know that I planned on competing in the timed race; 25km division. She decided she wanted to do the same. I made sure she knew that I didn't expect her to join the same race. I wanted her to have fun for her first race. I may not be a skier but this ain't my first rodeo as far as races are concerned. But this was all a first for Mary Ann. She was resolute, she wanted to ski in the 25km race too! Okey-Dokey.
We decided that we should get out to the ski area to at least familiarize ourselves with the trails. What an eye-opener!
I've never skied in a track before. I had assumed that it should be easier, no breaking trail, just follow the track. Well... it doesn't "quite" work like that. We stood before the trail map at the trailhead. It was a tangled mess of routes that would rival a Paris subway map. It was inscrutable to both of us so we ended up pointing our skis in one direction and hoping for the best. The first hill didn't look too bad but I wasn't entirely sure what I was expected to do; do I stay in the tracks or go to the side? I felt sort of obligated to use the track as there it was all nice and set like that, I positioned myself in the grooves and off I went!
Wrong choice.
As I began to pick up speed I realized to my great dismay that I now lost my ability to snow-plow or do much of anything as I rocketed ominously down the icy tracks. There was a corner coming up fast and I had no idea how to navigate it and decided that making a leap for the snow bank was the best choice. At that point, after getting myself out of the snowbank, it dawned on me that I wasn't in Kansas anymore. Mary Ann didn't fair much better so we decided that maybe this trail wasn't so cool after all. We herringboned back up the hill and went back to the map to look at it more carefully and find the easiest trail. To be fair, the day we went out was not the best; At first the tracks were crazy fast but then large, moist flakes of snow descended on us getting us wet, cold and turning the snow into the dreaded and feared "snowball snow". We were forced to turn back and went to the waxing hut to see if we could change our wax. I called the store where we both bought our skis and got an on-the-phone-tutorial about waxing our "wax less" skis. We found the proper temperature wax in various and sundry offerings left behind by other benevolent skiers. The ski hut has vices for the skis and irons for applying the wax. I had never waxed a ski before but the ski guy on the phone made it sound do-able. I listened to Mary Ann as she repeat the complex instructions she had received from her skiing guru-sister-in-law about waxing skis. Apparently waxing is an art and science in which everyone has their own opinion. I tried my best but I knew it wasn't the best wax job, let's call it what it was; a hack job. It would have to do. We headed back out to the trails only to find that the snow had changed yet AGAIN and now our wax was causing us to slip and slide without any kick. We tried, we really did, but we couldn't ski ourselves out of a wet paper bag that day. It was frustrating as hell and being cold and wet wasn't helping. It didn't take long for both of us to decide our ski day was officially over and we headed into the small town proper for lunch.
By this point our grandiose idea of racing the 25km race seemed stupid and probably dangerous. I like a challenge as much as the next ADHD adrenaline junkie, but I don't fancy getting injured before my marathon. Both Mary Ann and I began to convince ourselves that the 12km would be more realistic, fun and we had less chance of looking like complete unprepared idiots in front of others. We drove back to town with dampened spirits and a more sober attitude.
But you can't keep overly optimistic gals down for too long. By the next evening, I decided that God hates a coward and I shouldn't be such a baby - I could do 25km. Mary Ann had come to the same conclusion for herself. We knew the Race would be hard (as we reasoned over wine) but it couldn't be harder than Ormand Lake could it? No way Jose!
Yes it could. Yessiree Bob!
First the good news: The conditions were awesome! It had snowed the night before, and stayed cold for the morning. I took some practice glides and my skis were gliding gloriously. Hallelujah! The folks at the club seemed like nice people as outdoor enthusiasts often are. With a shared interest it's easy to strike up a conversation and club members usually welcome new faces and potential members.
The other racers were a combination of adolescent ski-club kids with a smattering of parents and senior-ish folks. I've learned my lesson over the years regarding those crafty, gray-haired competitors. Most of them are sand-baggers of the highest order. They'll talk in that self effacing manner designed to lull you into a false sense of security; that you have nothing to fear from them. Oh contrare. They're out to kick your ass and most likely they can.
While we were waiting for the race to start, I struck up a conversation with one of the guys who had track-set the course. I asked him about the best strategy to get down the hills while in the track. He quickly told me that staying in the track on the downhill was dangerous and he didn't recommend it all. "Stay out of the track, you'll have more control snow-plowing down the hill and you can control your speed."
Perfect advice! Too bad Mary Ann wasn't listening at the time. Her husband had suggested that if she wanted to make up time during the race then she should be fearless and point her skis down and GO! Good advice for an easier course. He said after the fact that he didn't think steep hills would have tracks set in them because that would be stupid. Unfortunately for Mary Ann she took his advice literally. Now the bad news:
Poor, poor Mary Ann.
Her first race ever can only be described as EPIC.
Mary Ann was concerned she'd be last in this race but she sure didn't expect to get off route and to be scaling hills of... well... EPIC proportions. While the rest of us were skiing the course, she was skiing Into The Void.
I think I was about half-way through the race when I began to seriously worry about Mary Ann. This course was hard. It can only be described as a fucking roller coaster. I knew that this club had held a national competition here a few years back but I never connected the dots that indicated they could hold a world class race because the terrain was world class. Ya, world class all right - world class hard. I had to stop at a few points to decide which way I should go so I knew it could be tricky for her.
I realized that this course was going to be difficult for Mary Ann. As enthusiastic and game as she was, that doesn't provide endurance and cardio for the long haul and it doesn't give you experience. I was the newbie skier yes, but I've competed in many running races and I'm fit in preparation for my marathon. I was worried for her.
But little did I know she was lost out there having taken a wrong turn! I was preoccupied by other matters. One being something I didn't know about cross country skiing: there are different "styles" of skiing. One is called "Classic" and the other called "FreeStyle". Or we could rephrase that by saying one style is old-school and slow and the other style is new-school and fast - Hello skate skiing.
This competition was a Free-style event so any style was allowed. Classic skiing is like bringing a knife to a gun fight if everybody else is skate skiing. Which they were, oh how they were.
What that means is that while I was gliding along the flats and herringboning up the hills, the skate skiers were flying past me like they had wings. I mean seriously, to watch them move up those hills with grace, speed and power almost made me want to throw my big, heavy skis into the bush. For that day anyhow, because actually, I love my skis. For what I do out here on the north shore; skiing on the lake, breaking trails and using skidoo trails, then you can't beat my skis. They're strong and utilitarian. But they ain't skate skis. Soon all the skiers, young and old alike, left me in the dust.
Everyone except for one little fledging kid and MIA Mary Ann.
I crossed the finish line having completed the 25km race in 2hrs47min. That seemed like an infinitely long time but I was philosophical about it. This was a training day for me and it had been fun and I got shown in exquisite detail the differences between cross-country skis and styles. I gotta get me a pair of those skate skis STAT!
I started to wait for Mary Ann. I expected her to be slower. Ok, I expected her to be A LOT slower. I just hoped that she had persevered over the difficult, hilly terrain.
I put my gear away, went to the clubhouse, started chowing down on the after-race meal of homemade chill and waited by the window to catch Mary Ann. This race was sort of weird as you ski right past the finish line and still have another punishing 5km of skiing before you are graced with actually crossing the finish line. Psychologically I found that tough so late in the race, to be so close and yet so far from completion.
I had decided that when I saw Mary Ann crossing this point I would tell her what was coming up so that she'd have to opportunity to quit right there if she needed to. I figured that would be race enough for her and she had nothing to prove if she was exhausted. About an hour after I finished I saw Mary Ann approaching so I ran out to congratulate and talk to her.
Poor, poor Mary Ann.
Her eyes were as wide as saucers and she looked like she had seen a ghost. When she saw me there was no happy, tired smile and high fives. Instead out of Mary Ann's mouth shot: "I got LOST!!! I've been OUT THERE ALONE for HOURS!!!" As she gestured wildly to where she had just been.
"WHAT?? What happened??" I said
I didn't think her eyes could get any wider but they did and she began to nod rapidly in a slightly hysterical way. "I CLIMBED A FRICK"N MOUNTAIN!! THEY SAID I DIDN'T FINISH THE RACE!! THIS IS BULLSHIT!!" Her speech came in bursts like machine gun fire.
I realized that she was close to weeping. I must be a hard-hearted jerk because I found this funny in a macabre-laughing-when-someone-falls-down-the-stairs way. I started giggling and quickly said "Oh My GOD Mary Ann, what happened??" I began to notice that she was disheveled with her hair sticking out from her toque in a rakish sort of way. She looked so shell shocked and tragic and for some reason that made the situation even funnier. I guess in my defence I could see she wasn't obviously hurt and not in imminent danger now. Traumatized yes, but still walking, talking and gesticulating just fine.
She continued nodding at me frantically like a sketched out bobble-head and burst out: "AND I FELL! I fell so hard on my HEAD Lise, I left an INDENT in the snow!!" Now pantomiming what happened to her.
Now I seriously cracked up in front of her. Through my giggles I kept asking her if she was OK, and tried to piece together what had happened to her. I had to take a picture of her in this sorry state. I tried to get her to smile so we could pretend she had a good time but she couldn't muster it. I gave her a hug. People were stopping to eavesdrop about the EPIC, similar to folks driving by a car accident - you don't want to look, it's creepy, but you can't help it.
Basically from what I can ascertain, Mary Ann's strategy of pointing her skis in the tracks and GOING didn't do her any favours. She fell hard a couple times and hit her head so hard she saw stars.
At one point she exclaimed "I swear Lise, it was by only the GRACE OF GOD that I didn't fall more! I came SO close!!"
I couldn't help myself, I said: "Mary Ann, why didn't you snow-plow down the hills? Jesus, you could have killed yourself." I stopped short of saying: "What were you thinking??" That seemed too unkind, especially when she looked at me with the saddest, darn expression on her face and said quietly: "I didn't want to be last."
Mary Ann is a competitor and she did her level best. On the one hand I was incredulous that she would continue to hurl herself down the hills like she did, but I also couldn't help but have admiration for her sheer, gritty, determination. I marvelled to her how hard it is to over-ride ones' basic self preservation instinct like that. :-)
Both of us think that when she fell and hit her head it addled her brain somewhat and she made the wrong decision regarding which trail to take when she hit a Y in the trail. In short, she was overwhelmed. I've been there, it sucks. I really did feel bad for her.
Mary Ann didn't get an official time because technically she didn't finish the race. She learned some valuable lessons that she'll never forget. I told her that once you've had an EPIC then racing in the future will seem easier by comparison. It's true. It'll make a world of difference next time. Anyone who's had an EPIC mis-adventure in what ever chosen pursuit will attest to this. By the time she sat down, rested and had a bite to eat she was already saying she wanted to come back next year and do the 25km.
That Mary Ann, she ain't no quitter!
Both of us went to school today. I didn't hit my head but The Race seriously kicked my ass.
Friday, March 2, 2012
Call me the Crash Test Dummy!
It's been an eventful week out here at the Lake. It reminded me of the Chinese curse; "May you live in interesting times..."
Interesting indeed!
Mary-Ann and I went on our grand adventure to Ormand Lake. She was on her skis and I was running. The outing could be summarized by a few talking points:
1. It can't be that far away now...
2. I bet it's just over this hill...
3. It must be just around the corner...
4. Is this the right trail?
5. Where is the damn LAKE??
Suffice to say we weren't that close to lake the first time we were out. On that day we gave up after 3 hours and turned around, but we figured we were close! We now know that we were still roughly 4km away at that point. Much of that 4km was downhill. Which sounds good considering we had been travelling steadily uphill for over 2hrs. However what goes down also goes up and we were realizing that we would have a significant uphill once we reached the elusive **#!! Ormand Lake.
I did start to lose hope we'd ever find the lake, I started to express my doubt when Mary-Ann found her resolve and declared "We are getting to this LAKE!"
Eventually we reached the lake after snaking down the long winding hill to the valley floor. Our happiness at finally arriving was quickly dampened by the frigid temperature and blowing wind. We hurriedly took a photo of the campsite as proof that we actually made it the whole way. The plan was to have our lunch at the lake but we had descended into a freezer! We quickly turned around and headed back up the hill to a sunny spot although it wasn't much warmer just less windy.
The way back was tiring. Mary-Ann and I dubbed the ascent out of the valley from Ormand Lake as 3-Mile-Hill. I think it was more realistically 2.4miles but we didn't care about facts by that time. It felt like 3 miles and was tough for both of us.
One we reached the high point we were poised for the much easier ski and run down. Although Mary-Ann was obviously faster on her skis she also had the problem of getting down the hills in one piece.
At one point we were both assessing one of the hills she was preparing to ski down to figure out if it would be ok, if she could control her speed and not crash. She started down and immediately she picked up speed while I was at the top of the hill looking horrified and repeating the mantra "Please don't fall - Please don't fall - Please don't fall"
She fell.
But the whole situation was so damn funny by this point. I call it being punch-drunk. When you're tired and you still have a long way to go and things start getting silly because its far better to laugh than to cry.
I gotta hand it to Mary-Ann, she has a great attitude. Our 6hr outing was epic for her. I was coaching her on clothing, layering, eating, drinking, resting, staying warm; all the things I've been fortunate enough to learn by my mountain mentors. Incorporating these skills don't happen overnight and it can all seem overwhelming at first. These issues are important in the backcountry during the winter, especially if you are going to be outdoors for longer than a couple hours. If something were to go wrong it could be a miserable night if one is cold, wet, tired and ill prepared. She was far beyond the distance or terrain difficulty that she had skied before and that can have an effect on a person's mental state too. As she got more tired then falling became more likely. She would gamely get up, dust herself off and make light of it. For me the day was a good endurance workout but manageable. I was tired for sure, and my feet were soaked and I was ready to be finished a good hour before we actually were but nothing was life threatening. So right there that creates a different mind-set for me when I feel that I'm reasonably prepared and I'm not out of my comfort zone. But having said all that I did start whining miserably at one point. It was another God-Damn hill, in an open field with a blistering wind during the last hour of our outing. I had a yelling outburst which caused a fit of laughter from Mary-Ann because she was feeling the same way but was worried she was being a baby. That's that punch-drunk thing; cursing out loud becomes really funny. I was laughing too and somehow feeling miserable wasn't so bad. That last hill was a sting in the tail" for sure!
I was proud of our accomplishment that day, we supported each other and maintained a positive attitude.
I thought of my late great friend and climbing partner Colin Wooldridge. He was such a force of nature as a mountain man. I could call him a climber or a mountaineer but that doesn't do justice to the breadth of knowledge and skills he displayed in the mountains. He was also an expert skier, a strong mountain biker, an orienteer... like I said; A force of nature. I feel deeply honoured to have been one of his proteges and partners before he was taken by the very environment he adored so much. He truly was in love with the wild, majestic beauty and unfettered power of the mountains. He lived and died there - in the arms of mother nature.
I'm happy to pay my knowledge forward to Mary-Ann, it makes me feel like I'm saying thank-you to all the kind and generous mountain friends who have made my life richer and deeper by sharing their time, knowledge and experience.
By the time we got home I wasn't feeling so chipper but I chalked it up to the big effort of the day. The next day I had to drive into Burns Lake to take my cat Bomber to the veterinarian. He was due for his shots and needed a check-up. Mary-Ann came along as company. Our rough plan had been to go ski at the ski club before we took Bomber to the vet however both of us were tired and happy with a rest day. Instead we decided to drive up to the ski area to check it out for future reference.
I was feeling progressively lousier at the day wore on. By 4pm I was resigned to the fact that I probably had a mild flu and wanted nothing but to head back home and go to bed. Which is exactly what I did. But not before I tripped over mom's footstool and nearly broke my ankle. I knew for sure I was sick as my spatial awareness was off and I was clumsy. Mom fussed over me and insisted that I had pushed myself too hard the day before and that's why I was sick now. She rubbed some sore muscle cream on my foot and I was happy to let her doctor me. She gave me tylenol, a heating blanket and sent me off to bed. I realized I didn't have my cel phone and assumed that I had left it charging in the car. Ah well, it would have to wait till morning.
When I woke up the next morning I wasn't feeling much better. Achy, coughy and probably smelly too! I wanted to get my phone though so I got bundled up and went out to my car. No phone. Damn. Must be in my purse.
I started walking down the 3 short steps that go down into the basement, preoccupied about my phone when suddenly my feet were out from under me and I landed and fell down the stairs! Oh MAN DID THAT HURT. I hit my lower back, a spot on my spine and my shoulder.
I was shocked at the speed of the whole blunder and wasn't even sure how much I was hurt. I made it upstairs to let mom and Ray know what had happened. I was still slightly winded and a bit shocked. Neither of them were wearing their respective hearing aids yet so explaining the whole situation was difficult. That last thing I wanted to do while being sick and having just fell down a flight of stairs was have to explain to my wonderful but hard-of-hearing parents what had happened:
Lise: "God I just fell down the stairs!"
Mom: "What? Why are you scared?"
Lise: "STAIRS mom. STAIRS! I fell down the STAIRS"
Mom: "Which stairs? Ray! Lise fell down the stairs!"
Lise: "The outside stairs mom, the basement stairs"
Mom: "Why were you outside?"
Ray: "What?"
Mom: "Lise fell down the STAIRS!"
Ray: Which stairs?"
Mom: "I don't know WHICH stairs Ray. WHICH stairs Lise??"
Lise: "OUTSIDE stairs mom, the OUTSIDE BASEMENT stairs"
Ray: "Oh Geez Honey, are you OK?? Which stairs did you fall down?"
To be honest, at that moment I couldn't understand the relevance of which stairs I fell down. All I knew was that I needed to gather my wits about me and see if I was really hurt or just banged up. I hit hard though. I had a splitting headache but didn't know if that was from the flu or the fall and I had three very tender places along my back which were starting to swell. I was mad at myself for falling, I should have been more careful, I knew the flu was making me clumsy. I was preoccupied about where my phone was and I wasn't really paying attention. Ray felt horrible that he hadn't added extra salt to the stairs. Him and Phil had been chipping away at the ice on the stairs the day before because it was slowly getting worse. Normally he has a bunch of non-stick floor stuff sprinkled over it but unfortunately not that morning.
And my phone was nowhere to be found.
My phone is still missing. I called all the places where I had been in Burns Lake. I was seriously bummed out as I had just upgraded to a spanky iphone4s. Luckily I still have my older iPhone and I was able to get it activated. I needed a wireless connection to finish the activation process so I drove back to Burns Lake and checked out all the places I had been in the hopes that it would be in a lost and found perhaps. Nope, nada, negative. No such luck.
Today I went out for an easy ski to see how the body felt. My marathon training is on a tight schedule right now so having a bruised and sore body is not great. Skiing seemed like a good choice as its easier on the body than running. I wanted to keep the body moving so it doesn't tighten up too much. I don't think I cracked anything because I'm starting to feel better - sort of. Rye and Pepsi has helped and so has the wonderful Truamele cream. I recommend it for the accident prone.
I will ski again tomorrow and then get out for a longer run on Sunday and hopefully that will give my muscles time to get better.
Never a dull moment out here!
Interesting indeed!
Mary-Ann and I went on our grand adventure to Ormand Lake. She was on her skis and I was running. The outing could be summarized by a few talking points:
1. It can't be that far away now...
2. I bet it's just over this hill...
3. It must be just around the corner...
4. Is this the right trail?
5. Where is the damn LAKE??
Suffice to say we weren't that close to lake the first time we were out. On that day we gave up after 3 hours and turned around, but we figured we were close! We now know that we were still roughly 4km away at that point. Much of that 4km was downhill. Which sounds good considering we had been travelling steadily uphill for over 2hrs. However what goes down also goes up and we were realizing that we would have a significant uphill once we reached the elusive **#!! Ormand Lake.
I did start to lose hope we'd ever find the lake, I started to express my doubt when Mary-Ann found her resolve and declared "We are getting to this LAKE!"
Eventually we reached the lake after snaking down the long winding hill to the valley floor. Our happiness at finally arriving was quickly dampened by the frigid temperature and blowing wind. We hurriedly took a photo of the campsite as proof that we actually made it the whole way. The plan was to have our lunch at the lake but we had descended into a freezer! We quickly turned around and headed back up the hill to a sunny spot although it wasn't much warmer just less windy.
The way back was tiring. Mary-Ann and I dubbed the ascent out of the valley from Ormand Lake as 3-Mile-Hill. I think it was more realistically 2.4miles but we didn't care about facts by that time. It felt like 3 miles and was tough for both of us.
One we reached the high point we were poised for the much easier ski and run down. Although Mary-Ann was obviously faster on her skis she also had the problem of getting down the hills in one piece.
At one point we were both assessing one of the hills she was preparing to ski down to figure out if it would be ok, if she could control her speed and not crash. She started down and immediately she picked up speed while I was at the top of the hill looking horrified and repeating the mantra "Please don't fall - Please don't fall - Please don't fall"
She fell.
But the whole situation was so damn funny by this point. I call it being punch-drunk. When you're tired and you still have a long way to go and things start getting silly because its far better to laugh than to cry.
I gotta hand it to Mary-Ann, she has a great attitude. Our 6hr outing was epic for her. I was coaching her on clothing, layering, eating, drinking, resting, staying warm; all the things I've been fortunate enough to learn by my mountain mentors. Incorporating these skills don't happen overnight and it can all seem overwhelming at first. These issues are important in the backcountry during the winter, especially if you are going to be outdoors for longer than a couple hours. If something were to go wrong it could be a miserable night if one is cold, wet, tired and ill prepared. She was far beyond the distance or terrain difficulty that she had skied before and that can have an effect on a person's mental state too. As she got more tired then falling became more likely. She would gamely get up, dust herself off and make light of it. For me the day was a good endurance workout but manageable. I was tired for sure, and my feet were soaked and I was ready to be finished a good hour before we actually were but nothing was life threatening. So right there that creates a different mind-set for me when I feel that I'm reasonably prepared and I'm not out of my comfort zone. But having said all that I did start whining miserably at one point. It was another God-Damn hill, in an open field with a blistering wind during the last hour of our outing. I had a yelling outburst which caused a fit of laughter from Mary-Ann because she was feeling the same way but was worried she was being a baby. That's that punch-drunk thing; cursing out loud becomes really funny. I was laughing too and somehow feeling miserable wasn't so bad. That last hill was a sting in the tail" for sure!
I was proud of our accomplishment that day, we supported each other and maintained a positive attitude.
I thought of my late great friend and climbing partner Colin Wooldridge. He was such a force of nature as a mountain man. I could call him a climber or a mountaineer but that doesn't do justice to the breadth of knowledge and skills he displayed in the mountains. He was also an expert skier, a strong mountain biker, an orienteer... like I said; A force of nature. I feel deeply honoured to have been one of his proteges and partners before he was taken by the very environment he adored so much. He truly was in love with the wild, majestic beauty and unfettered power of the mountains. He lived and died there - in the arms of mother nature.
I'm happy to pay my knowledge forward to Mary-Ann, it makes me feel like I'm saying thank-you to all the kind and generous mountain friends who have made my life richer and deeper by sharing their time, knowledge and experience.
By the time we got home I wasn't feeling so chipper but I chalked it up to the big effort of the day. The next day I had to drive into Burns Lake to take my cat Bomber to the veterinarian. He was due for his shots and needed a check-up. Mary-Ann came along as company. Our rough plan had been to go ski at the ski club before we took Bomber to the vet however both of us were tired and happy with a rest day. Instead we decided to drive up to the ski area to check it out for future reference.
I was feeling progressively lousier at the day wore on. By 4pm I was resigned to the fact that I probably had a mild flu and wanted nothing but to head back home and go to bed. Which is exactly what I did. But not before I tripped over mom's footstool and nearly broke my ankle. I knew for sure I was sick as my spatial awareness was off and I was clumsy. Mom fussed over me and insisted that I had pushed myself too hard the day before and that's why I was sick now. She rubbed some sore muscle cream on my foot and I was happy to let her doctor me. She gave me tylenol, a heating blanket and sent me off to bed. I realized I didn't have my cel phone and assumed that I had left it charging in the car. Ah well, it would have to wait till morning.
When I woke up the next morning I wasn't feeling much better. Achy, coughy and probably smelly too! I wanted to get my phone though so I got bundled up and went out to my car. No phone. Damn. Must be in my purse.
I started walking down the 3 short steps that go down into the basement, preoccupied about my phone when suddenly my feet were out from under me and I landed and fell down the stairs! Oh MAN DID THAT HURT. I hit my lower back, a spot on my spine and my shoulder.
I was shocked at the speed of the whole blunder and wasn't even sure how much I was hurt. I made it upstairs to let mom and Ray know what had happened. I was still slightly winded and a bit shocked. Neither of them were wearing their respective hearing aids yet so explaining the whole situation was difficult. That last thing I wanted to do while being sick and having just fell down a flight of stairs was have to explain to my wonderful but hard-of-hearing parents what had happened:
Lise: "God I just fell down the stairs!"
Mom: "What? Why are you scared?"
Lise: "STAIRS mom. STAIRS! I fell down the STAIRS"
Mom: "Which stairs? Ray! Lise fell down the stairs!"
Lise: "The outside stairs mom, the basement stairs"
Mom: "Why were you outside?"
Ray: "What?"
Mom: "Lise fell down the STAIRS!"
Ray: Which stairs?"
Mom: "I don't know WHICH stairs Ray. WHICH stairs Lise??"
Lise: "OUTSIDE stairs mom, the OUTSIDE BASEMENT stairs"
Ray: "Oh Geez Honey, are you OK?? Which stairs did you fall down?"
To be honest, at that moment I couldn't understand the relevance of which stairs I fell down. All I knew was that I needed to gather my wits about me and see if I was really hurt or just banged up. I hit hard though. I had a splitting headache but didn't know if that was from the flu or the fall and I had three very tender places along my back which were starting to swell. I was mad at myself for falling, I should have been more careful, I knew the flu was making me clumsy. I was preoccupied about where my phone was and I wasn't really paying attention. Ray felt horrible that he hadn't added extra salt to the stairs. Him and Phil had been chipping away at the ice on the stairs the day before because it was slowly getting worse. Normally he has a bunch of non-stick floor stuff sprinkled over it but unfortunately not that morning.
And my phone was nowhere to be found.
My phone is still missing. I called all the places where I had been in Burns Lake. I was seriously bummed out as I had just upgraded to a spanky iphone4s. Luckily I still have my older iPhone and I was able to get it activated. I needed a wireless connection to finish the activation process so I drove back to Burns Lake and checked out all the places I had been in the hopes that it would be in a lost and found perhaps. Nope, nada, negative. No such luck.
Today I went out for an easy ski to see how the body felt. My marathon training is on a tight schedule right now so having a bruised and sore body is not great. Skiing seemed like a good choice as its easier on the body than running. I wanted to keep the body moving so it doesn't tighten up too much. I don't think I cracked anything because I'm starting to feel better - sort of. Rye and Pepsi has helped and so has the wonderful Truamele cream. I recommend it for the accident prone.
I will ski again tomorrow and then get out for a longer run on Sunday and hopefully that will give my muscles time to get better.
Never a dull moment out here!
Monday, February 27, 2012
Hello Moose!
We're still in a cold snap, it was -18 this morning. I've been spending the mornings under a quilt in the living room, drinking coffee with Mom & Ray. We watch some news or other TV program or chat.
This morning Ray pulled out a really cool pipe he's had for a long time and gave it to me. It has a long curved stem and definitely looks like something a Hobbit would own. I loved it instantly. There is something compelling to me about pipes and pipe tobacco, the smell, the ritual. It all conjures memories for me that remind me vaguely of my dad, my uncles and my childhood. Ray had given up smoking 30 years ago so the pipe was getting no use from him. I had a half smoked cigarillo left over from when my brother Cyril came to visit. He likes to smoke them and I had one with him. I can never finish a whole one so I had saved what I had. I pulled it a part so I would have some tobacco to try out the pipe. I've never had a penchant for smoking cigarettes but for some reason a pipe feels different, more like an event than a habit. I puffed on it a few times in delight of my gift and at how slightly ridiculous I must look wielding this curved and rather dramatic pipe. Both mom and Ray were laughing, taking pictures and getting a kick out of the whole production. We began to talk about pipe tobacco and I wondered aloud if there was a safer version of something to smoke that wouldn't have pesticides and crap in it. I'm sure the right solution will come my way and I'm kind of intrigued with what I could create myself. I know there will be times in the future when I'll be sitting outside in nature, maybe watching a great sunset, and I'll have a smoke from that pipe and think of Ray.
I got my ass in gear by 3pm and started out on my run. It had warmed up to -7 which is decent running weather. I wanted today to be an easy run as MaryAnn and I are heading out for a big day tomorrow. She is going to be on her skis and I'm going to be running and we're heading back to Ormand Lake. It's going to be a tough day for me I think but it will be good practice for the marathon. It'll be fun to get out there again and to have the company.
Today on the run I called for the crows but only 3 came. Still I was happy with the outcome as I was looking around before I started my experiment to see if there were any crows about. I didn't see any. About 3 minutes after I started my cawing I heard a response from a crow. I couldn't see him at first but his calling was getting louder. I finally saw the crow and two more joined in as they were circling above me.
Eventually they got bored of the noisy human and continued on their way. I started to think about how cool it would be to see a moose. When its not crashing into me of course. They scare me a little bit because of their size, I doubt they would charge me while I'm on the road but there is always the outside chance that they could charge so there is an element of risk to seeing one while I'm running.
I started to scan the forest intently, I was looking through a stand of tall, bare Poplars. The snow was gently falling and the forest was a mix of browns, creams, beiges, whites and muted greens. I was scanning with soft focus hoping to notice something big or dark that didn't match the trees or what ever else would break up the natural patterns.
There.
A large mass that doesn't look quite right.
My heart beats faster as I pull out my binoculars and begin to focus on the area that I saw something different, half assuming that wishful thinking was getting the best of me but hoping it wasn't.
As I stare intently at the area, I'm deciding that I'm probably wrong and that maybe it's a big stump or something else and...
It moved.
There was a cow moose staring back at me from the bush. I felt the flush of success! She was far enough away that I didn't feel threatened but close enough for me to easily see her in my binoculars once I knew what I was looking for. I started talking to the moose not knowing if I should but doing it because it felt like the right thing to do. She heard me and began to lope away in the deep snow. Once she had taken a few nervous steps she stopped and continued to stare in my direction. We watched each other for about a minute.
That felt like enough animal excitement for one day so I continued on my run. I figured that the moose would appreciate it if I stopped staring at her. I really didn't want her to come and take a closer look at me although I would have liked to have seen her shoulder to see if she was missing hair. I thought it wasn't outside of the realm of coincidence if the moose I was observing turned out to be the moose that ran into MaryAnn and I. There are plenty of moose that are out in about in this area but you never know. Nature was giving me all sorts of gifts lately like the eagle sighting the day before.
The rest of my run was uneventful, I didn't want to go too far and the snow was starting to come down heavier. I headed home feeling pretty good that I was able to spot an animal in the woods. Moose are a good start and probably the easiest to spot given their size. Next on my list is to see a fox. I do desperately want to see a wolf but I also don't want to be terrified so I have some competing interests going on there. With a fox though I doubt I'll be too scared. Being out here amongst the critters does have a certain risk factor even if the chance of harm is low. I'm keenly aware that I rank lower on the food chain than some of the animals out here.
I'm getting this feeling that the local animals are starting to get used to my presence and perhaps that's why I'm beginning to see them. Or perhaps my forest eyes are getting shaper too. Either way its cool.
Till next time.
This morning Ray pulled out a really cool pipe he's had for a long time and gave it to me. It has a long curved stem and definitely looks like something a Hobbit would own. I loved it instantly. There is something compelling to me about pipes and pipe tobacco, the smell, the ritual. It all conjures memories for me that remind me vaguely of my dad, my uncles and my childhood. Ray had given up smoking 30 years ago so the pipe was getting no use from him. I had a half smoked cigarillo left over from when my brother Cyril came to visit. He likes to smoke them and I had one with him. I can never finish a whole one so I had saved what I had. I pulled it a part so I would have some tobacco to try out the pipe. I've never had a penchant for smoking cigarettes but for some reason a pipe feels different, more like an event than a habit. I puffed on it a few times in delight of my gift and at how slightly ridiculous I must look wielding this curved and rather dramatic pipe. Both mom and Ray were laughing, taking pictures and getting a kick out of the whole production. We began to talk about pipe tobacco and I wondered aloud if there was a safer version of something to smoke that wouldn't have pesticides and crap in it. I'm sure the right solution will come my way and I'm kind of intrigued with what I could create myself. I know there will be times in the future when I'll be sitting outside in nature, maybe watching a great sunset, and I'll have a smoke from that pipe and think of Ray.
I got my ass in gear by 3pm and started out on my run. It had warmed up to -7 which is decent running weather. I wanted today to be an easy run as MaryAnn and I are heading out for a big day tomorrow. She is going to be on her skis and I'm going to be running and we're heading back to Ormand Lake. It's going to be a tough day for me I think but it will be good practice for the marathon. It'll be fun to get out there again and to have the company.
Today on the run I called for the crows but only 3 came. Still I was happy with the outcome as I was looking around before I started my experiment to see if there were any crows about. I didn't see any. About 3 minutes after I started my cawing I heard a response from a crow. I couldn't see him at first but his calling was getting louder. I finally saw the crow and two more joined in as they were circling above me.
Eventually they got bored of the noisy human and continued on their way. I started to think about how cool it would be to see a moose. When its not crashing into me of course. They scare me a little bit because of their size, I doubt they would charge me while I'm on the road but there is always the outside chance that they could charge so there is an element of risk to seeing one while I'm running.
I started to scan the forest intently, I was looking through a stand of tall, bare Poplars. The snow was gently falling and the forest was a mix of browns, creams, beiges, whites and muted greens. I was scanning with soft focus hoping to notice something big or dark that didn't match the trees or what ever else would break up the natural patterns.
There.
A large mass that doesn't look quite right.
My heart beats faster as I pull out my binoculars and begin to focus on the area that I saw something different, half assuming that wishful thinking was getting the best of me but hoping it wasn't.
As I stare intently at the area, I'm deciding that I'm probably wrong and that maybe it's a big stump or something else and...
It moved.
There was a cow moose staring back at me from the bush. I felt the flush of success! She was far enough away that I didn't feel threatened but close enough for me to easily see her in my binoculars once I knew what I was looking for. I started talking to the moose not knowing if I should but doing it because it felt like the right thing to do. She heard me and began to lope away in the deep snow. Once she had taken a few nervous steps she stopped and continued to stare in my direction. We watched each other for about a minute.
That felt like enough animal excitement for one day so I continued on my run. I figured that the moose would appreciate it if I stopped staring at her. I really didn't want her to come and take a closer look at me although I would have liked to have seen her shoulder to see if she was missing hair. I thought it wasn't outside of the realm of coincidence if the moose I was observing turned out to be the moose that ran into MaryAnn and I. There are plenty of moose that are out in about in this area but you never know. Nature was giving me all sorts of gifts lately like the eagle sighting the day before.
The rest of my run was uneventful, I didn't want to go too far and the snow was starting to come down heavier. I headed home feeling pretty good that I was able to spot an animal in the woods. Moose are a good start and probably the easiest to spot given their size. Next on my list is to see a fox. I do desperately want to see a wolf but I also don't want to be terrified so I have some competing interests going on there. With a fox though I doubt I'll be too scared. Being out here amongst the critters does have a certain risk factor even if the chance of harm is low. I'm keenly aware that I rank lower on the food chain than some of the animals out here.
I'm getting this feeling that the local animals are starting to get used to my presence and perhaps that's why I'm beginning to see them. Or perhaps my forest eyes are getting shaper too. Either way its cool.
Till next time.
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