Blue Suede Skates

“I’d like to buy a pair of figure skates.” 

The sales girl looks me up and down with a mixture of contempt and disgust.  Her eyes land on my feet.  She just looks at them like she’s never seen anything quite like them before in her life.  I look down; my winter horseback riding boots are covered in dust from the ring and have salt splatters all over them.  At her request I take them off and get measured.  

“We don’t have your size in women’s skates.”   She says looking, relieved that I’ll be leaving soon.

“I know that,” I snap…I am irritated.  “I have always worn men’s figure skates.  Those come in my size.”  She looks at me like I am crazy and goes away to consult with someone  in the back. 

I know I shouldn't be rude, but it’s Friday night and I have gone far out of my way to seek out this specialty store.   I just want to get the kind of skates I learned with…you know “girls’ skates,” the ones with the picks on the front.  After a 25 year hiatus I am going to skate again and I don't need any added variables like a new style of blades.

The sales girl returns.  “We will have to do a special order.  It takes a week and they will cost $210.00.” 

I exhale.  The 43 Project is expensive. 

“I’ll think about it and let you know.”

Dejected I start walking back to the subway.  On the way, I encounter a used sporting goods store.

“O.K. maybe it really is  time I considered learning to skate on hockey skates. I can a deal on them here.”  I say to myself and walk in.

Once inside I scan the huge wall of used skates. It’s about 30 feet long with racks that go 10 feet high.  I am overwhelmed.  All the sales people are busy and I don’t know where to start. So I decide to walk the length of the wall.  It runs from hockey to figure skating.  Right at the transition point between the two disciplines, a pair of figure skates grabs my attention.  How could they not…they are blue suede and there’s a bright purple sticker that says size 12.

They are the craziest things I’ve ever seen.  I take them down.  I put them on.  They are a little too big, but I think with an insole and extra socks they just might do.  I look at the price tag…$34.99.  Sold. 

I text Marla and we make arrangement to go to skating on Sunday.  

Sunday rolls around and we head over to the local skating rink.  We decide to go early to avoid all the hot shot kids.  I used to be one those.  As I lace up the blue suede skates I am wondering if I have lost my skating mojo. 

I stand up on the rubber mat and look at the bad ice between the rubber and the rink.  “How am I going to get over that?” I ask myself.   For the first time in my skating history, I feel fear.   It seems like a very long 25 years from this moment to my last in skates.  I am also thinking about how I don’t bounce like I used to. 

With a big breath and long stride I step over the bad ice and onto the rink.  I am wobbly.  I move slowly forward doing a sort of monster walk.  I suddenly remember to bend my knees and the gliding motion starts coming back to me.  I manage to make it to the far boards.   I am trembling.  Still on my feet, Marla offers me words of encouragement.   We continue to skate.   

About 25 laps of the rink later I am still upright and elated.  I’ve been saying I am going to get 
back to skating for at least 10 years now.  I can’t believe I have finally done it.  It wasn't pretty and  there will be no backwards skating or cross cuts for a long time yet...but there will still be some good winter fun. 

I get home and wipe down the blades of the blue suede skates.   I wonder to myself where I should store them.  It's a fleeting thought.  Doesn't seem much point in thinking to hard about it.  I set them beside my riding boots and running shoes.  It feels like a waste of effort to put away something I going to be using next weekend.

Never quit

Mary

Coming up:  More winter fun 

Running and Reconnecting

Our High School Group
Me, Tara, Jocelyn and Kelly (missing from photo Martha)
Summer 1988

It’s Saturday morning, 7:30 am.   I look out between the blinds. I can see an icing sugar dusting of snow on the ground. It’s a chilly -4.  I am still a little bleary eyed, but I am up. I am scheduled to meet my high school friend Jocelyn whom I haven’t seen much of since the late-1990's and go for a run.  

Today is one of those days where life hands you a scenario you never imagined. If someone had told us five years ago that this would be our plan for today, I think both of us would have told you that there was greater chance of the world ending (as per the Mayan’s) in December 2012, than there was of the two of us running around High Park.  Yet here I was, peering out the window at the weather and feeling a little apprehensive.   

As fate would have it, my friend Jocelyn has been on a similar path to mine, like me, she has been seeking to make changes in her life and push the limits of her physical fitness. She is more than a little impressive. In the last three years she has taken 78 inches off her entire body, gained 35 pounds of muscle and just finished a triathlon.    

I hope I can keep up.

She arrives and I remark to myself how there is nothing in the world like the magic of an old friend.   They know exactly how to relieve you of any baggage you may be carrying.   As I am sputtering about an injured foot and apologizing because I am consequently only running 5 minute intervals, she just laughs and says “don’t worry about it.  I am here to run with you.”

We soon get moving.  As we head through High Park I notice how stark and sad the trees look, shivering naked in the breeze that blows in from Lake Ontario. The dismal surroundings are in sharp contrast with my mood.  I am having a great time and relieved to find that I am keeping up.    

The next few kilometres are fueled by great conversation.  She tells me about her life; her journey of positive change and the events that inspired her to start. We compare notes on how making a change in one area seems to lead to changes in others. We talk about how we both still consider ourselves to be "works in progress."

We stop. Laughing, we try and take our own picture.  Thankfully a fisherman comes by and takes it for us.  

As we get close to the end of the 5KM loop, my foot starts to give me trouble.  It happens just as we are about to start the torturous Spring Road hill. It’s one if those sleeper hills that doesn't appear to have such a stark incline, but about quarter of the way up your legs ache and you are gasping for breath.    

“ I've never made it to the top of this hill without walking,” I say to her. 

“So come on then, let’s do it together,” she says.  

Today, miraculously it happens. Sore foot and reduced training notwithstanding, I get to the top.  It’s a nice moment. 

As we are walking home, I think about how, strangely, running has taken on a significance beyond fitness for me and how through running I have come to connect with different people and myself in very profound ways.  I think about the vicissitudes of life and how opportunity for renewal presents itself in places like Facebook.  Had Jocelyn's status updates and my 43 Project posts not had a common theme, we might not have reconnected. I am very glad we did. Ultimately I think about how we could have gone for a cup of tea or had brunch, but chose to do this instead. Given path we are both taking, I think this was perfect way to get reacquainted. 

Never quit,

Mary

Coming up:  Horsing around in earnest and investigating the unfamiliar world of racquet sports

Spinning: As the snow flies I take the ride inside.

“Oh man…it’s snowing,” Marla says with a combination of sadness and disgust.

As we walk to the gym, I look at the sky.  It has a melancholy grey about it and the ground is harder than usual beneath my feet.  It seems a long time since last Sunday when it was warmer and the sky was a happy sunshiny blue. It was the type of day where winter seemed like it might pass us by. As we rode our bikes out to Leslie Spit, we strategized about the how we’d ride all winter if there was no snow this year.  

Just as I am about to get lost even further in the memory of last Sunday, a gust of cold wind slaps us in the face with a dose of reality.   It reminds me of how we both somehow instinctively knew that our winter riding dream was just that…a dream, and why we are up at this ungodly hour on a Sunday morning to attend spinning class.

The Sunday morning class at my gym is unique...and getting up early is a must...if you aren't in line by 7:45 you won't get a spot when it starts at 8:15. 

Spinning, if not lead by the right person, can by very boring.  But this class is designed by Paul. He is a rock n’ roll mix master, road cyclist and genuine guy with a great sense of humour.  He’s the kind of person that can make you believe you are having fun…even when you are biking uphill for 20 minutes. Paul is one of a kind, and even though he would never admit it, I am willing to bet he has developed quite a following at the gyms where he works around the city. 




Marla and I get there in good time.  We head into the studio and choose our bikes.  I am adjusting the seat on mine when I hear a broad English accent, "Well, what do we have here? Mary! Nice to have you back."  I give Paul a big hug and try to sneak a peek at his playlist as he sets up his bike.

Born in London in the shadow of White Hart Lane, Paul was the kid who took his transistor radio to bed and listened to music until late into the night.  His love of music is part of his instruction style and soundtracks for classes are filled with tunes that cross decades of popularity.  One can expect to hear the Beatles, Neil Young, Nine Inch Nails, Pink Floyd, Beastie Boys, Metallica and U2, just to name a few. 

As we are standing there chatting, I tell him I have been out riding my bike most weekends and that I am back so that I can keep my aerobic level up over the winter. "You are going to have to work to your full potential in every interval to keep your edge." he says smiling.  

One of those people who, unlike me, is prepared to brave any sort of weather, Paul rides his bike everywhere he goes--all year round.  His devotion to cycling forms his philosophy for spinning. Classes are designed to replicate a one hour outdoor ride with lots of hills.  He concentrates less on sprinting, like some instructors, and more on building cardio and muscular endurance through climbing.  

Our class begins, Paul tells us that our first interval will be a nine minute hill.  There are a few groans, which prompts him to utter what has now become his tag line...“pain today…nice looking legs tomorrow."


For the next hour, we encounter rolling hills,  adjust the resistance to simulate a steep hill and thankfully have a five minute flat aerobic interval.   All of this is done at maximum energy level and intensity.  Paul doesn't allow us to back off until the 60 minutes have elapsed.

After class is over, Marla and I walk back up the hill towards our building.  Although I am wishing I could be outside riding my bike, it's nice to have the whole day ahead of me to do things.  As we walk on,  I also can’t help but think of the weather and how my Mom always says “it’s an ill wind that doesn’t blow some good.” Spinning with Paul is more than just an exercise class, it's an entertaining social event that I can look forward to over the winter.  Plus a new season brings new opportunities. Putting my bike away will be sad, but I have a whole list of winter activities planned...many of which require snow.     

Never quit, 

Mary


Coming up:  I connect with an old friend and run for a good cause.   

Three-day Weekend, Four Hikes and My 70 Year Old Mom

Spring Road, High Park

I am in a part of High Park I have never been to before, looking at a sign. All of a sudden I hear,

"Ouch, oh no"

I turn around to face my mother, who is saying, "that dog just hit me. It really hurts."

"What? A dog hit you?"

"Yes dear, that brown dog."

We walk on for a few minutes and then she says,"I think we should turn around." She pulls up her pant leg to reveal a bruise and bump the size and shape of a mango. It's the type of bruise that results when an 80 pound Weimaraner hunting dog running full tilt side swipes a thin 70 year old.

"O.K." I say. We turn around and head home. I am concerned about my Mom, but I am also a little sad. After dragging my family across 32km's of Toronto's parks and ravines, I have had the greatest Thanksgiving ever. I don't want it to end.

The Beltline

As we trudge home, I flash back to Thursday when I tell my her that I want to do four hikes this weekend. She initially looks a little nervous and asks if they are the types of hikes that one can drop out of, if necessary. "Sure," I say. A half truth. I'm not sure that they are and I am not sure that they aren't. When I suggest to my cousin, Jane, that we celebrate Thanksgiving by walking 13km across the city and then go to Chinatown for our Thanksgiving dinner, she doesn't even bat an eyelash. "Sounds good to me" she says.

So begins my Thanksgiving odyssey. After doing a bit of research, I have come up with 4 walks; a 5km warm-up on Friday night in High Park; a 13km Saturday walk, across the Beltline; on Sunday a 10km walk along the lower Humber River; and a final Monday morning 5km spin around High Park.

My mom and I complete the first walk on Friday evening in an hour. "See Mom," I say, "You just did 5km and you feel great. Tomorrow's 13km will be a piece of cake." She does not respond.

The Beltline

Saturday arrives and my Mom, Jane and I are out on the Beltline by 10:30 am. The pace is brisk and we talk. This is a hard time of year for each us. It feels good to reminisce about the past, tell stories from the old days and laugh as we check out a few of the more handsome runners we encounter along the path. Eventually our trail leads us to Mount Pleasant Cemetery. The three of us have spent a lot of time in cemeteries in the past few years, sometimes together, often alone. It's feels normal to be there.



As we walk, certain headstones stand out. We pass a runner who died at 29. At least 20 of the medals he received are hung on his tombstone. We go through a section which is specifically for children. Weather beaten teddy bears stand guard beside the small square plaques on the ground. I've had a lot on my mind lately and this part of the walk is a Thanksgiving style reminder of all that is right with my life...a reminder that there are types of grief I haven't felt and no time to waste on self pity.

From left to right: Me, Mom, Jane at the Brickworks

By lunch time we reach the Brickworks, an old factory that has been re-purposed into a craft, food and farmer's market and have lunch. As the vendors are packing up we head back onto the trail and carry on northward towards St. Clair Ave. As our walk ends I am left with a feeling of calm.

Sunday, my Mom and I set out again for trek up the Humber River. She says she is feeling a bit "squeaky," but after two hours and forty-five minutes we complete our 10 km walk.

When Monday arrives I admit that I am feeling a little "squeaky" myself. This time it's my mom who says to me, "are you ready to go back to High Park?"

"Are you?" I reply.

"Sure, why not? Let's give it one more try."

We head off and soon find ourselves amongst the the trees. This is where she and the dog collide and our final 5km is cut short, a kilometre early. In the end, the collision is not serious and with a bit of ice she is almost as good as new.

My mom goes home later that night. As I watch her get on the bus, I am struck by the fact that the more we change and develop new traditions, the more we value the people who help us do that. This weekend I have experienced good things while seeing new parts of the city and spending time with my family. This Thanksgiving I have been reminded just how lucky I am to have both my mom and Jane to walk with me not only through the ups and downs of city of trails, but also along the path of life.

Never quit,

Mary

Coming up: horseback riding, kayaking and the Toronto Women's 5km.

The Beltline

The Beltline

Thanksgiving Dinner

The Lower Humber River, Etienne Brulee Park

The Lower Humber River, Etienne Brulee Park

Grenadier Pond, High Park

My Chiropractor Tells Me To Stop Sitting Around

I went to see my chiropractor the other day and without a word of exaggeration, the conversation started something like this:

"So, how is your back, your shoulder, your calf, your knee and your foot?"

Happily, this time, he didn't say:

"Don't get old, there's no future in it."

At middle age I think it's important to have a sense of humour...something to help us appreciate the paradox of ageing. There are lots of things I like about being in the second part of my life. For instance, I don't wait for permission to do things and I have logged the miles that give me credibility in the workplace. But on the down-side, the passage of time has left its mark. Like those of us who have spent the last 20 years chained to a desk earning our stripes, I am now starting to realize my office job has contributed to my losing more than my natural hair colour.

I learned this the hard way when I started at the gym last winter. I quickly found that I was unable to do lunges, squats, stairs and other leg exercises due knee pain. I thought it was either arthritis or cartilage damage. I was referred by Matt, my trainer, to Dr. Bryan Porter, Chiropractor.

Because he treats a lot of people my age, it didn't take Dr. Porter long to figure our what ailed me. As it happened, it was not cartilage damage. Apparently my situation was not uncommon. After years of literally sitting around all day, my glutes weren't firing and my hips weren't working the way they were supposed to. Sitting had also contributed to a repetative strain injury in my lower back and with my rotator cuff. Over time, my movement patterns had become affected and this put undue strain on my knees when I tried to do certain exercises.

"Many people in their 40's have sedentary jobs" Dr. Porter said to me, "If you do enough sitting, the way your muscles function changes...things that used to work properly don't work that way anymore"

Dr. Bryan Porter

When I asked him how to fix the situation, so that I could carry on with my fitness objectives, he gave me some advice which is true for anyone starting a new fitness program.

"Get help from someone who knows what they are doing to develop a plan to help you meet your goals."

"Establish a baseline," he said, "of where you are and what you can do safely...Build up to your goal. Just going to the gym, lifting weights and running is not the only thing you have to consider..Educate yourself and do it the right way."

For me this meant lots of rehab exercises both at home and integrated into my training program to get things working again. It also meant establishing a strategy for
saving myself from the damage to the body that is intrinsic in a desk job.
When I asked Dr. Porter for his guidance in this area his answer was simple, "if there is one thing in general people should stop doing, it's sitting," he said, "Humans weren't meant to sit for long periods of time."

This is easier said than done. I struggle with this all the time. I get glued to my computer monitor and wrapped up in a deadline. One thing that has helped me greatly, though, is that I have replaced my chair with an exercise ball. I did this to alleviate back problems and it has worked very well. Using it means I have to sit up properly and I am in constant motion. I have also put on my social butterfly wings and tried to talk to people face to face instead of sending emails, where possible. When the weather is nice, I slip out for a quick walk around the block at lunch time.

In the end, there is no going back in time and fixing things. For me the only remedy is to keep moving at work and to do the rehab exercises that are part of my personal fitness plan. I do believe, however, that whether I had become active or not, the "postural aches and pains" of the having an office job would have caught up to me. While it seems that the inaction of my past made this path inevitable, I am glad about the way it worked out. I am glad that with another 20 years of working in an office ahead of me, I have the opportunity to make corrections to my daily habits. And most of all, I am very glad that I have had the opportunity to work with a professional like Dr. Porter who can make me laugh a myself at the same time as he helps me build up the strength I need to get on with the 43 Project and get on with life.


Never quit,
Mary

Coming up in future posts: Hiking, Horseback Riding and Kayaking on the Humber River

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



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.

Meet My Trainer: Matt McGeown

"Don't you quit on me Mary. Don't you ever quit." My trainer barks at me as I am trying to squeeze out my third push up.

I look up at him, and wonder how it is that I, an independent women enjoying the power of my 40's, am actually paying this 23 year kid to push me harder than I would ever want to be pushed on any given day. Worse than that, I basically have to surrender all control to him twice a week.

I look up at him and see the tattoo on his neck that reads "Never Look Down." His personal reminder to live only in the light of possibility and never in the darkness of "can't." It reminds me of why I am here, giving up all control and why I signed a year long contract with him.

Last week I wrote about how cycling was what started it all for me, but to be fair, before cycling there was Matt. The person to whom six months ago I humbled myself and confessed that I couldn't do squats, that it hurt to walk up stairs and that I had never done a push-up.

Although Matt's arrival in my life was entirely random, it was thoroughly lucky. On a very basic level we connect. What I like about him is that he understands the paradox of weight training. It is, in his words, "both the easiest and the hardest thing you will ever do." Easy in as much as it is about forming a habit, hard in as much as you have to push yourself to the point of pain--something that is counter intuitive for most of us.

"With training you can't cheat. You put in the work, and you will see the results." I know this to be true. Since we have started working together I have done well. But there have also been some days when I have been disappointed. It has been difficult at times not to look down.

It's times like these where, for me, having a personal trainer really pays off. Matt believes that everyone has a natural ability and it's just a matter of tapping into their goals to find the key to motivate them. Because he knows where I want to be, he is able to bring me around pretty quickly when I start to hang my head.

I ask Matt why he thinks some people who want to train are more successful than others. "You have to want it badly enough to do the work." he says. For him the physical aspect of it is a simple equation; hard work equals results and results fuel the desire to continue. Something anyone can achieve. 

But he and I both know that there is also a major psychological component to training and to achieving any goal. It takes focus, determination and patience. Matt believes that you "take each goal rep by rep." I forget this a lot. Sometimes, like in life, I just want to get to the end of the set to mark it of as complete. Matt always reminds me that there is no payday at the end if you don't pay attention to details and view success as the sum of your experiences. Wise beyond his years, working with Matt makes me stronger on many levels.

Never quit,

Mary

Next time: Me? Running?

Preparing for the Mitsubishi City Chase Part 2: Rock Climbing

It was a quiet walk from the parking lot to the climbing gym.  My friend Marla and I are usually pretty chatty, but this time there were big things on our minds.  Marla's fear is heights. Mine is anything involving upper body strength or lifting my own weight. It was going to be an interesting evening.  

As we stood in front of  the doorstep, I looked up to the roof, about three stories up, and trying to be positive I said "O.K.That's not bad, that's as far as we have to go. We can do that no problem."  Marla looked a little concerned. 

"Let's just get in there." she said. 

Inside, the walls are stucco white with strangely shaped brightly coloured formations seamingly haphazardly jutting out from from floor to ceiling. There are ropes everywhere and people are litterally just hanging around. They are chatting, laughing, swinging.  Much more at ease than we are, clearly this is no big deal to them...fun even. 

With our sweaty palms and too tight climbing shoes we follow the instructor over the bouncy floor to the practise room.  During a lesson on figure 8 knots and baleying, Marla and I learn that we hold each others lives in our hands--because we aren't edgy enough already.

Marla, headed for the top

Marla is first up on the wall.  She's awesome.  Although she is clearly pushing the limits of her fear of heights, she succeeds. I also manage, although it's a bit of a bumpy ride, to get her down without incident. 

Now it's my turn. 

First attempt to climb.  I fall off the wall.  Can't even get up on the first ledge. I hear that old familiar inner voice say "I honestly don't know if I can to do this." For a fleeting instant, I experience that childhood feeling of dispair. Since most of my life my arms have been too weak to support me, my brain immediately tells my body "no" when it encounters a challenges like this. "Shut up brain, what do you know anyway."

Marla is talking to the instructor. Nobody sees. I give myself a good talking to..."Ok.  Try again.  You can do this. You have been working on your upper body strength for months. You hang on and pull yourself up."  They are watching me again, and.... YES!!! I am up on the first part of wall.  

I know this sounds ridculous, but I will tell you right now, each step I took towards the top, on that first climb, was a personal victory, a validation of months in the gym.  In the end we both made about five trips up and down and ultimately reached the three story height of the building.   

On the walk back to the car there was a lot more conversation.  There were even  "high fives" as we laughed and reminisced about the walk into the gym earlier in the evening.  While we agree that neither of us is going to take our newly developed climbing skills outside anytime soon, we are both very glad we had the chance to give rock climbing a try.

Never quit,

Mary

Next Challenge: Mitsubishi City Chase, August 11, 2012. 

Follow me through the Chase on Twitter

@MaryJ_43Project

Preparing for the Mitsubishi City Chase: Part 1

When I unleashed The 43 Project I pictured a series of challenges like milestones in careful sequence along the road to July 12, 2013. Each well thought out, the preparation, the nutrition, the rest and the training almost a religious ritual. After all, am I not a decidedly middle aged responsible woman--fully in control?

The 43 Project unexpected lesson #1:

An awesome July 12 birthday celebration

I am, and always will be, the same drinking, staying up all night and partying sophomore I was in 1990. The challenge for me this time was leaving the party and getting back on the straight and narrow.

After an incredible July, which I wanted to go on forever, August arrived. The specter of the Mitsubishi City Chase on the 11th, loomed large on the calendar. I had promised my Chase partner that I would try as many things as possible to get a good base of experience for the race. July had gotten away from me and I hadn't really held up my end of the bargain.  I had to pull myself together.

In order to sever the connection between the evil city, that I love, and my current mid-life urge to live every moment as if it were my last, I sought refuge at a cottage in the woods by Moonstone Lake. I needed to do three things; sleep, eat properly and get some exercise.  Once again, I got by with a little help from a friend.

Luckily for me, Mrs. Guinness, one of my best friends, has a cottage near Moonstone lake and she was kind enough to introduce me to what I think may become my new aquatic passion...kayaking.

After just 5 minutes I was hooked.

Many of you have been kayaking for years, and now I can honestly say that I understand why.  The movement on the water and the stability in wind and waves is beautiful.  What was not beautiful, however, was the way I sort of rolled out of it on my side.  But I am sure that with practice I will be able to elegantly disembark. The City Chase has a kayaking challenge so at least I will know how to get into the boat.

Now that I am back in the city, and in the swing of training again, there is one more pre-Chase activity that I will be trying...rock climbing. I admit it...I am terrified.  I will be doing this tonight, so stay tuned.  If I don't freak-out or end up smashed like an egg I'll be posting again on Friday.

For advance notice of whether I made it or not, you may also wish to follow me on Twitter @MaryJ_43Project or by clicking on the link above.   I will send my first ever tweet from the rock wall.

Never quit,
Mary

A note on the Mitsubishi City Chase:

The Mitsubishi City Chase is an urban adventure challenge where teams of two follow clues and complete 10 of 40 possible challenges around the city.  Most, but not all, of the challenges are physical, some involve fear factor activities like eating bugs and holding snakes. Teams have six hours to complete the challenges. City Chase takes place in cities across Canada.