Running the Rideau Canal: Running Out of Grief

That awful noise..beep beep beep.

It's dark.

Where am I? Nothing looks familiar.

Oh yeah...Ottawa, in a hotel. I have to run today.

Oh God.

Ottawa, my home town, is a tough place for me and I haven't run for five days. I'm here for work.

Last night, with colleagues, I went on a ghost tour of the downtown area and had an epiphany. As I stood on the lock that joins the Rideau Canal to the Ottawa River I realized that if I don't deal with my own ghosts in this town, I will never move forward. There is a lot of grief here and lots of memories that act as my ghoulish spectres. They pop up from time to time and set me back.

Now, at 5:30 am, it's dark, according to the Internet it's raining. I want to stay in bed and wallow in self pity. I hit the snooze button. I don't know whether it's the transition from summer to fall, or the days getting shorter, but I have had a fairly substantial case of the blues over the last three weeks. I don't want to deal with anything emotional today, and most of all...I DON'T WANT TO RUN.

That stupid noise again.

Beep beep beep.

I lie there and think about how I bought a watch last week, that times intervals, so I could run while I was away. I think about how when I lived here I couldn't do half of the things I am doing now. I haul myself out of bed.

I still don't want to run, but I'm outside. It's still dark. The rain has stopped. I'm not really sure what route I'm going to take but, I head south along the Rideau Canal. I notice how the perfectly manicured flowerbeds look nice against a dawn that is punctuated by white street lights. I grudgingly admit that the scenery is pretty.

All of a sudden, I realize that I am headed towards my Aunt's old apartment. A place I haven't seen since she died about 16 years ago. The pull becomes magnetic. I keep running until I see it. I want to stop but the interval isn't over. In my mind's eye, I can see her face and hear her laugh. Tears start to well up. The interval ends. I turn around. I run back. I run around the building. I think about what she'd say to me if we could speak to each other.

"Run on," she'd say. "Don't spend your time looking back for me. Live. Savour. Love. Travel. Laugh. Pray. When you think of me...smile."

I am back on the path beside the canal. The sun is out now, there are beautiful red leaves on a few trees and I am starting to feel my mood change.

I have brought my camera with me in the hopes of getting the "money shot." That iconic picture of the Chateau Laurier beside the canal. But all of a sudden I am thinking of other things, I am thinking about my Dad who passed away 19 years ago next month. I veer off the path and run past the Drill Hall, which served as his barracks when he was a member of the Governor General's Foot Guards. I think about he and my Mom and how happy they were together. It makes me smile. I run past my Mom's old school, the place that brought my Mom to Ottawa and ultimately to my Dad. I keep smiling.

It's a strangely good start to a day in a city that is full of sadness for me...a city that still holds my teenage angst. I let emotion fuel me forward and somehow I don't want to stop running.

As I run, I suddenly realize, that in this city where I was never the person I wanted to be...I now like the person I am. As I continue to poke at my psyche, I start to feel like time has maybe healed some old wounds. I look Ottawa in the eye. My new watch chimes the ninth interval. In this city of my grief, my legs start to tire and I stop running. I catch a glimpse of myself in the window of a Starbucks. I am still smiling. It's a beautiful day in this city of my past. It's the first day in the nation's capitol that I have found a moment of peace.

Never quit,

Mary

Coming up next:  Horseback riding and my long promised talk with my chiropractor.

60km Tour de Greenbelt: My Misadventures in Rouge Park

When I signed up for the Tour de Greenbelt 60km Major Meander I had an idyllic picture in my mind. I saw an easy ride, stopping at rest stops which featured things like points of local interest and farmers' markets. I pictured myself buying the best vegetables of the local harvest. Cycling along scheming about what cut of meat I was going to cook them with.   I figured that the real drama would come from the conflict between wanting to stay and browse through stalls displaying local wares and the desire to set a personal fitness best.  

Sometimes reality bites. 

Peddling into Rouge Park in a pack of riders, we are doing a fairly good pace.  At least some of us are.  I am struggling to get my cadence. “It’s gonna be one of those kinds of days,” I am thinking. I put my head down and push.  The scenery starts to change into farms and fields.  It’s really quite picturesque…especially the rolling hills…

The 43 Project unexpected lesson #2:  Toronto is relatively flat. 

Urbanite that I am, I have never biked outside the city.   Around the GTA there are some big hills, but they are surrounded by all kinds of flat.   Rouge Park is quite a work out.

Huffing and puffing, I am trying to help myself by using my body weight to generate the downhill momentum that will get me over the top of the next hill.  All of a sudden riders up ahead are pulling off the road.   Marla and I both pull over… we learn that we are lost.   We had been told to follow the green signs, it had been a while since any of us had seen one. A rather poor course map and an iPhone GPS confirms our status.   We figure out how to right the course and push on.

The air is fresh and we are in good spirits.  “At least the weather is good” we say…or is it?  A menacing looking black cloud is moving along side of us.   We carry on.   Marla, myself, some other folks we have met and one uninvited guest…a strong headwind.   

About 90 minutes in, we still haven’t found a water station and I am getting hungry.   We decide to check the map.   With our accidental detour and course correction we figure out that if we carry on and do all of the route, our 60km ride is going to be a 75 km ride, neither of us is sure that we have the legs for it. We take a short cut. 

Five minutes into the short cut, we are in Hell. The headwind is stronger,  the road is under construction,  there is heavy traffic, we are riding on gravel, the black cloud bursts into driving rain,  I bonk.  All my energy is gone. I can barely get Marla’s attention to pull over.  Finally, she hears me.  We pull over.  We eat enough to get us to our first water station.  

Eventually, Reesor's Farm Market in Elgin Mills appears and we can stop to rest. After three litres of water, two apples and a peanut butter sandwich, we find out that we have already done 30 km and I am able to laugh again.  

The second 30km is much better for both of us.  Although we still get lost, the weather cooperates. We hit some pretty sweet downhill grades and experience some very good speed.   We even have the energy to have some deep conversations about things like which smells better...roast chicken or roast turkey.  When we get up the final hill and across the finish line, four hours later, we are both exhausted, starving and happy.  

Although it was a tough morning, and nothing like I had envisioned, I still felt that sense of satisfaction that comes from achieving a goal. I had made 60 kilomteres inspite of the many challenges. Most importantly, however, I realized that if 60 km is almost two thirds of the distance to my 100km objective...I can almost see the finish line from here.

Never quit,

Mary

Next time: My chiropracter and I have a talk about preventing injuries and staying nimble at middle age.

Outside the Herongate Barn Theatre, Durham



Rouge Beach, Scarborough



I Interview Canada's Bronze Medal Heroes: The 2012 Olympic Women's Soccer Team

As I am heading toward the Jane Roos Gallery on Berkley Street at 7:15 am last Friday morning, for a fundraiser for CANFUND with the Canadian Women's Soccer team, I am wondering what kind of experience I am in for. I'm a little nervous and I wonder if I am dressed OK.

As I arrive, I enter the gallery to see art on the wall created by Canada's Olympic athletes. "Very cool," I think to myself. As I move a little further into the space, I am greeted by one of Canada's 2012 Olympic heroes Diana Matheson. The woman who scored the bronze winning goal. She is standing just past the entry way, all five feet of her, with a gentle smile and holding her medal. As I walk up to her, she hands me the bronze medal and says "take a look."

It's heavy and fairly large, the diameter of a good sized orange. Internally I am freaking out.

"This is awesome!!" I say to myself. "I am touching a piece of Canadian sporting history"



As I stand there examining the medal she continues to make small talk with everyone around her. "This must get tiring after a while," I say. "Believe me," she replies with a big smile, "there are worse things."

Still recovering from the rush of holding the medal, I continue into the breakfast area which is a beautifully decorated outdoor terrace. People are dressed smartly but casually. There are quite a few children running around. I exhale.

Me, Melissa Tancredi and my awesome friend Darka, who
invited me to the event.

There, I meet Melissa Tancredi, one of Canada's leading goal scorers. She has a very relaxed vibe about her and when I speak to her she becomes very focused on our conversation. We talk about how cool it was for the team to have the opportunity to play at Old Trafford, the storied home of English football giants Manchester United. She tells me about hearing the noise of the crowd cheering for Canada as they came out through the tunnel and on to the pitch at Newcastle Stadium.

I get goosebumps.

I tell her that for three days in August her team was the focus of a nation and how, in that moment, women's soccer was actually bigger than hockey.

She gets goosebumps.

I ask her what it felt like to see the Canadian flag raised. Her eyes get big as she replies

"Oh my gosh, it was a dream come true to see it in Wembley Stadium, of all stadiums, go up. We were so proud and so happy to represent our country and to bring a medal home."

As I continue to mingle, I begin to realize something. These are all very talented individuals, but they are women who have worked incredibly hard to get where they are, they have struggled with psychological hurdles, they have felt the depths of insecurity and the extreme of possibility. Although elite athletes, they are people just like you and me, with incredible strength of character, who showed us on the world stage just what is possible if we role up our sleeves, push and surround ourselves with those who bring out our best.

As the formal portion of the morning commences Erin McLeod stands up and tells the story of the journey from the disappointing defeat at the hands of the US to the moment of victory in the bronze medal match. She describes, still with emotion in her voice, the scene in the dressing room after Canada had lost the opportunity to compete for gold.

"At the end of the game we were absolutely heartbroken...For anyone who has put their whole heart into something in life, it's really really hard to come back when you literally put everything out there...We were all all in tears and our captain [Christine Sinclair] turned to us and said "I love you guys, and I am so proud of everything you have done. We are not leaving this place without a medal."

The Globe and Mail dubbed the Women's medal the "bronze that shines like gold." Maybe it's because this was the first team medal won by Canada in the summer Olympics since 1936, but probably it was because the women showed us what it meant to fight hard mentally and physically for something that was important. Melissa Tancredi said "at the end of the [bronze medal] game, I don't know if it showed on our faces, but our bodies said there was nothing left in the tank." That desire to push to the fullest extent of our endurance is a spirit that embodies the idea of "never quit." It's a spirit that we all have deep within ourselves. What I believe makes this medal so special to us is that it symbolizes a spirit that on August 9, 2012 we got to proudly call Canadian.


Never quit,

Mary

Next time: I do the 60km Major Meander at the Rouge Park Tour de Greenbelt.

Me and goal scorer Diana Matheson

Darka and goalkeeper Erin McCleod

Run Like No One is Watching

"30 seconds to go. Do not stop. You can rest when we get to that park bench up ahead" says Marla. She's my next door neighbour and my hero. She's more than ten years older than me, she can talk while she's running and without her I wouldn't be tackling my number one exercise fear.



Spring 1971, two years old
Parliament Hill, Ottawa, ON, Canada


For as long as I can remember, I have been afraid to run because it has constituted a personal indignity. I was a big kid who grew quickly. My coordination never quite caught up. As a child running, I was incredibly slow and painfully self conscious. Over time, I sought ways of getting out of running. I even built my embarrassment into the legend of my personality. Always a good story teller, I was successful to the point that when I played basketball in university they used to say of me that "I wouldn't run if my ass was on fire." It became part of the team lore and somehow through the humour of it all, I managed to actually exempt myself from meeting expectations in running drills and lots of other things. At the time, I thought it was a very good thing.





Marla at the Harry's 8km run in High Park
April 2010



So why am I here now? Because at 43, I am stronger both physically and mentally and don't want to hide behind my personal myths anymore. I want to find out what I can and can't do. Luckily I have Marla, veteran of 12 runs, as my friend and neighbour. She has also agreed to be my running coach.  As someone who participated in her first race when she was 53, she understands how difficult it is to start and shows me just how possible it is to succeed.

So far her influence has had a remarkable effect, today marks the fourth week I have been running. On the first day, I wanted to quit after the first minute, but here I am four weeks later and up to nine three minute intervals over a distance of about 3.8km. The shocking part about it is, I am actually having a good time. That said, the physical aspect of it is a challenge, and the psychological aspect is even harder. For me, getting through the interval requires mental tricks which range from not thinking about it at all to making deals with myself that sound something like "just to the lamp post, then stop" or "make it to the drugstore. Do not stop now."

So where, other than in an endless loop around High Park, am I going with this?

On October 27th, I will participate in my very first race, the Toronto 5K Women's Run*. I also have a second objective. One that is a little more complex and best described by what I see when I watch my Goddaughter play.  Undaunted by any hurdle she allows nothing to stop her, when she runs, she does so with the wild abandon of someone completely living in the moment.  As I watch her in my mind's eye, I realize that I need to achieve one more thing.--I need to learn to run like a child who thinks that no one is watching.

Never quit,

Mary

Next time: Tips for keeping moving and staying injury free.

* To help get me across the finish line at the Toronto Women's 5 km, I will be dedicating my run to two of my dearest friends, Sheri and Julie, both of whom have milestone birthdays on October 30th. They are two very important people in my life and without them, I would never have made it this far. Once again I will rely on them and their inspiration to take me a little further.