To My Dearest Readers,

Looking north across the Purcell Mountain Range

By: Magi Scallion

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Born in Nova Scotia and emigrating to British Columbia via Ontario and Alberta, Magi has been running the entire way. Primarily defined as a cross country ski racer, Magi has competed nationally and internationally in that sport. The highlight of her career was competing in the World University Games and the World Cup races in Canada in 2007. Cross country skiers rely heavily on running for cross training and Magi has become an accomplished trail and mountain runner, representing Canada at the World Mountain Running Championships in 2005 and the winning numerous national championships medals.

Today Magi runs for fun… and it’s a lot of fun! Epic mountain runs, city cruises with friends, and more keep her happy and occupied outside of work and school.

I finally ran the other day and of course, it felt great.  It was cold and windy, but those conditions kept me alert and in the moment.

Anyone who has experienced a lapse in running frequency has said, “I never want to forget how good it feels to run”.  Yet, it happens to many runners, as I have learned from the many people who have reached out to support me in my recent slump. And I know that there are probably even more run slumpers who read my words and just thought to themselves “been there”.

The shiny, little hidden gem here is the fact that we get back at it. That falling off this wagon, or any other wagon we ride, does not equal failure. It is simply a bump in the road and the road can be long or the road can be short for any one of us. We don’t know how much time we have here on earth to run or jump or play or drink or anything, so…after we are done being displeased with our most recent, self-identified failures, the best thing we can do is reassess, make a plan and move in that direction. Can I get a “Hell Ya”?!

When I slump at anything, I usually fall hard, but the great thing about me, is that once I realize what’s going on, I bounce right back. I have the ability to be my own worst enemy, but I also love myself and have confidence that this too shall pass. So, I live knowing that mental health and addiction obstacles are a clear and present danger to my wellbeing, but I also know I have strength of character, commitment, dedication and a huge support team in my corner for the tough days.

Last month, I fell off the running wagon, but I didn’t fall from the sobriety wagon. When I opened my eyes and looked at the picture beyond the self-loathing I was stuck in, things looked amazing. I had not run consistently in over four weeks. During that time, I was without the safety net that I had so desperately erected to keep me occupied and feeling good, in order to remain estranged from my former bff, Cold Beer. I did not run, but I also did not drink at a time that I was being very hard on myself.

I can make it seem light and funny, but I am shedding tears as I write. I will never be free of the love sickness I have for alcohol, but maybe I am healing, maybe it’s not so raw, desperate and fragile anymore. I shake with fear at admitting this because I never want to let my guard down, but maybe I have gained strength against this addiction. Maybe running has made me stronger in multiple ways. Maybe I can loosen my white knuckle grip on running and truly just enjoy it for what it is. Maybe running is just running now, maybe it’s not therapy or a safety net or what’s keeping me sober. Maybe the strength I have to stay out of the liquor store is just coming from me, from some deep, strong permanent place inside of ME.

What an empowering thought to carry into the New Year; a New Year already full of mile markers. On New Year’s Day, I will celebrate my 40^th birthday (without a New Year’s Eve hangover). I will think of my Mom as it’s really her day; she did all the work forty years ago. My celebration will include the Orillia Snowflake Series, New Year’s Day 10k and hopefully a few friends running with me and waiting for me at the finish.

January is also a time for me to recognize two years of being alcohol free. Two years sober. Two years of a new way of being. Who knows, maybe a new way of being will include being the new “Running Blog Idol” in the cards for the year to come. If not, I will still continue to write because I love it; maybe set up my own blog space. If anyone has any ideas or connections in the writing world, I could use the advice.

Lastly, but possibly very significant to my life, as I turn 40, I will enter a new running age group. All those local buggers who have been placing ahead of me in my current age group (yes, Kate Rheault, this includes you :p ) will no longer be my competition. Instead of being among the oldest runners in my age group, I can now look forward to being among the youngest.

Happy New Year to all of you and thank you for all of your comments and support!

Cheers (my glass has sparkling water in it)!

*a quick note: to celebrate the past two years, my 40^th birthday, the years to come and to always have a reminder of the simplicity of the run, I got a permanent visual reminder, yesterday. This was also given to me as gift by my lifelong friend, Paula Vollick. Paula was also my sounding board and provider of constant encouragement when I initially decided to enter this contest.  Thanks bunches, Polly Wogg!

Somehow Christmas has come and gone in a blur. And the haziness wasn’t due to wine or rum (not this year anyway), but rather the flurry of activity that comes from thinking and planning and then neglecting to start actually doing anything, including decorating the house, until December 22.

I am suffering a massive food hangover. The blood in my veins has been replaced by caffeine and bubbly and I’ve gotten into a bad habit of thinking gingerbread men are a perfectly balanced breakfast (there’s protein in the eggs, right?). No wonder people vow to eat salads for all of January under the label of “resolution.” I prefer to call it penance for a month of committing the most offensive of nutrition sins.

I used to be a believer in resolutions until I realized it’s actually the French word for “failure” (very loosely defined). However I always like to reflect on the past year so I can think about longer-term plans for the upcoming one (plans that don’t fizzle by January 9). In order to properly focus on 2013, it’s important I look back at the highlights of 2012. So here goes:

– 5k race completed at 37 weeks pregnant.

– April 9 – Tore every shelf out my refrigerator including one I didn’t know could be removed, and scrubbed it top to bottom. Also, had a baby the next morning.

– Discovered that severe sleep deprivation made me forget which lever in my vehicle controls the turn signal. Don’t worry, I got it right the third try.

– My first post-birth run, a short 3k six weeks after giving birth. Cursed myself, my husband for his role in my becoming pregnant in the first place, my doctor for giving me the green light to run again, Adidas for supporting my feet, but not having the foresight to develop cushioning for my girly bits, and whoever thought of expanding running into a pleasurable and sometimes competitive endeavour rather than simply a necessary tool for hunting food. I think I can hold the Greeks partially responsible even though the Olympic Games probably seemed like a good idea at the time.

– June 23 – My first 10k race since before having Little Dude. My misplaced anger was replaced by mild annoyance that there wasn’t a postpartum category for racers that yielded a get-of-jail-free-card, or at the very least, a chauffeured golf cart to the top of the deathly hill around the 7k mark.

– Nailed the perfect stretch of time between nursing, having a glass of wine and nursing again.

– July 10 – An editor from iRun contacted me to let me know I was a top 10 finalist for Blog Idol 2.0. They were kind enough to announce it exactly 10 days before my birthday (I’m just narcissistic enough to believe it to be true), providing a worthy distraction from my annual mental breakdown over no longer being in my 20s.

– September 29 – Half-marathon completed with the assistance of family, friends and obscene levels of caffeine.

– U.S. election. This wasn’t really a personal accomplishment per se, but worth noting for the entertaining drinking game Mr. S and I came up with based on every Republican reference to family planning and every Obama reference to his role in Bin Laden’s death.

– November – Vegas. If I couldn’t eat it, drink it, gamble it or run it, it wasn’t on the agenda.

Looking back makes me equal parts excited and terrified of what the new year may hold. If the past 12 months is any indication it will hopefully include new (and old) friends, milestones, first steps, new races and challenges, and maybe a new bottle of sparkling rosé.

In less than 24 hours the world is supposed to go to hell in a hand-basket. Think about it. These could be the last words I ever write. Whoa, right?

Or everything will be tickety-boo in the morning and you’ll wake up to read this and be like, “Dude, why was she up so late? Did she want a front-row seat to the fire and brimstone?” Simple answer: yes. I’ll only be able to write a best-selling book if I witness something spectacular. Or if I devise some poorly written S&M for bored housewives. Given my current mental state I will call it 50 Shades of Crazy: The Mom’s Guide to Fooling Regular People Into Thinking She is Well-Rested and Doesn’t Drink to Forget Tantrums.

So what does one do on her second-to-last day here on earth? I should probably have been stockpiling toilet paper and merlot in case of emergency, but I woke up late, walked to Starbucks with my daughter and then took advantage of my kids napping simultaneously (if that isn’t a sign of the apocalypse, I’m not sure what is) to dash out six kilometers. I did run yesterday and haven’t run two days in a row since half-marathon training a couple months ago. But I figured if this was going to be my last day on earth, I should do my favourite things. So I didn’t set an alarm, drank too much caffeine and took advantage of the unseasonably warm weather and headed out, where a friend spotted me waiting for a train and took the photo above. The only things I did not do: finally finish reading The Grapes of Wrath (I’ve been working on it since Grade 12) or clean my house (if I thought there was the slightest possibility even one of the Four Horsemen would admire my clean floors, I might have gone to the effort).

However should the world continue until Saturday, I suppose I should revel in the future and make lofty claims, such as “I will find time and energy to train for a full marathon.”

And now I sort of do hope that heaven rains fire shortly so I am not held accountable for my words. Yes, I will take my chances outrunning zombies over waking up at 5 a.m. on Saturdays for four-and-a-half hour training runs.

See you all on the other side of December 21! Or will I?

Janis Joplin, Jim Morrison, Kurt Cobain, Truman Capote, John Barrymore, John Bonham, F. Scott Fitzgerald, Billie Holiday, Jack Kerouac, Bon Scott, Amy Winehouse, Hank Williams…

Creative people throughout history have reached for the bottle to inspire them to write, act and sing. Alcohol has always been touted as an enabler of clever and imaginative thinking. A freer of inhibition, resulting in inspired discovery of thought.

I am not a great historical writer, but I could use a bloody drink or six to get the creative juices flowing and produce some results. I put the pencil to the paper. I write a few sentences and then I scribble them out because it’s not funny enough or poignant enough or on topic enough. It’s just not good enough.

This is a theme in my life when I am faced with success. I buckle under the pressure. I sabotage myself by becoming passive and unproductive. In the past, this would be the time for a bottle of wine to drown my fears of inadequacy. It has, however been established that this will not be my means of coping (somebody, please have a drink for me, and if many of you are reading this, maybe I will vicariously be having many drinks…red wine, please).

Running has become my “go to” for release, for therapy and for distraction. It has even produced many moments of creativity. Clinging so tightly to running as a tool to keep me off the hooch has produced many positive side effects, including, strength, speed and endurance. I have improved to the heights of above average finish times when compared to other age groupers in my category. Running has saved me and given me hope for sustained alcohol recovery. It has allowed me a new way of coping with my demons (I imagine my demons as little grinning creatures drinking shots of tequila without the salt or the lemon, because, really, why bother with that, just get to the firewater).

Recall, if you will the earlier confession of self sabotage, and prepare to be disapointed…

…I haven’t run but twice in the last four weeks! No running, no writing…I am sabotaging this blog contest and I am sabotaging my sobriety. I am messing with a good system here. I don’t know what to do to make myself understand that I deserve all of the success I create. It’s all within my reach, but I am about to just let it go out of habit and not knowing what else to do.

I just need some belief in myself, some confidence, some inspiration, some validation… that doesn’t come in a brown bag or a case…

                                                                                                                                                                        …to be continued…maybe…hopefully

 (my apologies for the pathetic post…I’m struggling).