A few years ago, I was chatting with a friend who did some graduate studies somewhere in Eastern Europe. She told me that one day she was out running on a trail when she heard gunshots and lots of shouting, and saw military personnel. Everyone on the trail either hit the ground, or ducked and ran out of the area. She never found out what happened but apparently it wasn’t all that uncommon.
Just one of the many reasons why I am fortunate to be able to say that I run in Canada.
- Where I can freely run out doors at any time of the day or night without curfew.
- Where as long as I follow the rules of common sense, I can run virtually without fear.
- Where there is an abundance of beautiful places in which to run, and no shortage of really nice people with whom to share the distance.
- Where the grossest water I’ve ever been handed to drink was from a fire hydrant, and while it was disgusting, I was safe in the knowledge that it wouldn’t kill me.
- Where if, touch wood, I ever wake up in hospital recovering from an accident or heatstroke, I won’t go into debt to get out.
- Where, despite not being equal in my ability to kick serious @$$, I am equal in my right to be at running events, wear what I like, and express my opinions.
- Where I run because I like it, not because I need to get away from anything.
- Where I am free to complain about the weather, even though it really is nothing to complain about most of the time.
- Where after a long run, I can pop open a cold one and it is damn good stuff.
Yes, it’s true. I am proud to be Canadian, I am grateful to be Canadian, and I truly do live in the greatest country in the world.
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