“Self-pity is our worst enemy and if we yield to it, we can never do anything wise in this world.”
Helen Keller

VICKY: So, my amazing BF ran the half marathon this past weekend in Hamilton. It was an absolutely spectacular day for runners. I’m talking blue skies, light breeze and the smooth pavement of the Red Hill.

GRANT: I must admit, the weather was pretty wonderful in Ottawa too. I went for a run for the first time in months. This bulging disc is really annoying me. Anyways, did anyone catch your eye at the Hamilton Marathon? Besides your BF…

VICKY: Actually, this one guy was running in his military uniform and carrying a huge backpack. The man was running a half marathon with a full bag of military gear on his back! It was pretty freaking inspiring to say the least.

GRANT: I bet you my Garmin that guy wasn’t looking for pity when he was running with all that weight on his shoulders.

VICKY: No pity party there my friend. He was hardcore à la Terry Fox. Speaking of which, I just finished reading the part about when he finds out he has cancer and his leg has to be amputated.

GRANT: No side order of pity there, no ma’am.  Check out this passage from page 32, which I think sums it up pretty well:

“He didn’t want sympathy or pity. He wouldn’t sulk or become depressed. He was so successful at thinking positively that when he had visitors he would cheer them up. They usually left feeling better than they had when they walked in.”

VICKY: That’s awesome. I’d flagged that passage too. I have no patience for people who send out daily invitations to their pity parties.

GRANT: Argh! Don’t get me started. I hate these people who go on Facebook and Twitter and go on and on about all the awful things happening to them. Most of the time, they’re exaggerating or out right lying because they’re addicted to the pity they get from their “friends”.  Hey loser, nobody gives a shit!

VICKY: The fact of the matter is everyone faces challenges in life because life isn’t meant to be easy or to be taken for granted. So, if you feel the need to turn to Facebook or Twitter every time you’re feeling shitty, then you’re a pity wh@&*. Terry Fox was clear in his message: no pity for me. Instead, he sat in his hospital room and thought to himself, what can I do with one leg?

GRANT: I loved that part where his basketball coach Terri Fleming gives him a copy of Runner’s World and he read that story about Dick Traum who had run the New York City Marathon as an above-the-knee-amputee.

VICKY: These guys are awesome. Seriously, who sits in a hospital bed with one leg and starts to think about something like running the NYC Marathon or even crazier, running across Canada. Most people these days can’t even find the motivation to run across the street. Brutal.

GRANT: I know. I mean really people, think about it. You complaining about your husband leaving the toilet seat up? Nobody gives a shit.

VICKY: Oh and nobody gives a shit whether you failed your math exam or that you eat your emotions with a pound of chocolate or ice cream every night. Seriously people, start thinking positively. Start thinking of something else you could be doing instead of sitting there feeling sorry for yourselves.

GRANT: Go for a run. Soon you’ll find you won’t focus on your problems and you’ll start smiling again!

VICKY: Cheesy but true.

GRANT: Because at the end of the day, even though the people around you might fuel your incessant need to get attention by tweeting or putting up on Facebook everything that’s happening in your life, nobody gives a shit. That’s the bottom line.

VICKY: Hey listen to my new favourite running song about one of my favourite movies based on one of my favourite books. It’ll make you smile!

httpv://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PGrx6etMl0w&feature=share

So be sure when you step.
Step with care and great tact
and remember that Life’s
a Great Balancing Act.

I read that out loud to my kids tonight. They were lying on either side of me, heads against my shoulders.

I wish I could protect them somehow, or prepare them better. That my thoughts would float above their heads and settle in somewhere. To go easy on themselves. To forgive themselves. To believe in themselves. I wish I could form a wall around them that would block any pain that will come their way in the coming years. I wish I could wrap them in my arms and hold them so tightly that they’d never question all the unanswerable things in this world.

I wish I could protect their innocence.

It’s heartbreaking, you know. Being a parent. My heart constantly walks around outside of my body. I am a prime target for pain, because I have no protection anymore.

*****

Last week, I spent one evening hunched over an excel spreadsheet, creating a training program for the Ottawa Marathon in 2011. I poured over the calendar and the books I have. I’ve even incorporated a half in February, to break up the training.

*****

Earlier this week, I attended a Body Image conference at a local university. In the past five years, I’ve felt neutral about my body, loathed my body, and looked at my body as a tool for breeding and feeding children. It wasn’t until I started running long distance that I began to appreciate my body. That I began to see the purpose behind my solid thighs, my thick calves. Sure, I can’t pull off skinny jeans (or, more literally, I can’t pull on skinny jeans), but what do skinny jeans really matter?

It isn’t about jeans at all, you see. It isn’t about beauty or weight or skinny or curly hair or anything you have or don’t have. It’s about belief and confidence. It’s about being right with yourself. Because until you’re right with yourself, you won’t be able to be anything other than intimidated by the strengths and accomplishments of others.

*****

So here I go again, committing to another marathon. I’m not great at balancing things, so I know that there will be weeks when the laundry gets pushed aside for a long run, and there will be long runs that make me question my ability to keep going, and there will be flirtations with injuries and burn-out weeks and tears an frustrations throughout the next seven months.

*****

But on you will go
though the weather be foul.
On you will go
though your enemies prowl.
On you will go
though the Hakken-Kraks howl.
Onward up many
a frightening creek,
though your arms may get tired
and your sneakers may leak.

My family eats really well. Virtually zero processed foods, lots of veggies, lean meats, whole grains for the kids.

We’ve come a long way from the days with a toddler who refused anything besides Cheerios, blueberries, yogurt or applesauce. From the first bite of peas, she hated vegetables (with a flare for the dramatic that still exists, my then eight-month-old gagged on them until her dad scraped them off her tongue with a spoon). When she turned three, we implemented a “three bite” rule (three bites of vegetables). It was a fight every night. Sometimes we won, sometimes we relented, and sometimes it seemed that everyone lost (aren’t family dinners supposed to be a happy time?). She turned four, and the new rule became “four bites.” Then the magic seemed to take over. She… *whispers* likes vegetables. I mean, she asked for carrot sticks the other day, happily munched on celery, eats…. BROCCOLI. As you can tell, the novelty has not yet worn off.

We’ve never had to enforce the same rule with my two year old. She attacks vegetables with reckless abandon. She shoves whole pieces of broccoli in her mouth, worries me with the speed she eats tomatoes. It seems that her rule is: The more, the faster, the better.

Anyhoo, the point of this is that I put a lot of effort into making sure my kids (and husband and self, of course) eat well. Sure we have goldfish crackers and cookies, but we definitely don’t have dessert every night. And when we do have sweets, it’s quite often something I’ve made, which just seems better somehow than pre-packaged junk. They don’t eat candy. We don’t have it in the house, I don’t buy it for them. Simple.

Enter Halloween.

I’ve decided to approach this year a little differently. My usual course of action is to fret nervously about the amount of candy they’ll be consuming for, oh, a good two weeks in advance. (I come from a long line of fretters, you see.)

With such a well balanced diet, one night of indulgence isn’t going to hurt. We let them attack their stash on Halloween night, encouraging them to try everything, open as much as they want! (The trick? They take one bite of most of the stuff and leave the rest behind. Then I eat it throw it out.) I keep the candy around for a week or so, and yes, they can have a small treat after supper probably every night. Then I toss it.

My little healthy eaters have sensitive bellies, you see. Too much sugar makes them feel sick, and after a week of Smarties (or whatever) every night, they’re as sick of it as I am. So they don’t miss it.

We talk about what food does, how it fuels your body, makes you stronger, faster, smarter. We talk about treats and how it’s fun to have them once in a while. They’re smart kids. My four-year-old gets it, she understands. My toddler, while more headstrong and, uh, determined, than her sister, is obviously too young to understand, but at least she’s got a toddler’s memory.

What about you? Are you a Halloween fretter? Indulger? Avoider?

“I just wish people would realize that anything’s possible if you try; dreams are made possible if you try.”

Terry Fox

VICKY: Wow this is one great book.

GRANT: You said it.  I am loving this so far.

VICKY: What stands out the most for you?

GRANT: Just how inspiring he is.  How crazy he was, just to have such a big dream and go for it.  Its beautiful to consider.  I wish I had half the courage.

VICKY: Me too.

GRANT: Terry’s story cannot help but have an impact on your life.  It makes you reconsider who you are.  What is your commitment and engagement with life?  How much further we all have to go to be selfless and care about other people?

VICKY: It’s humbling.

GRANT: Yeah.  That is the thing about Terry’s impact.  It cuts both ways.  On the one hand you are inspired by what he accomplished.  On the other hand you can’t help but look at your own life and think – how pathetic.  I’ve never and will never accomplish anything as magnificent as he accomplished, even if I live four times as long.  How depressing.

VICKY: Yes well you have to play the cards you were dealt with in this life and that is one of the noblest things about Terry’s life.  He appeared not to have spent much time getting down about what happened to him.  He just absorbed it and lived with it. In some way, I wish everyone could just find the same strength to accept what is happening in their lives and to find something positive out of it.  I dare you all to sit back for a minute and find one positive thing about the crappiest part of your life. You’ll find that it’s there, if you choose to open your eyes and look.

GRANT: Yeah.  The greatest people are like that.  In our own lives we know people who are confronted by tragedy, disability etc.  I can think of some people.

VICKY: As can I.  Cancer struck three of the most important people in my life in the last year, including both my mother and father. I witnessed first hand the courage, determination and refusal to be intimidated by this horrible disease.  Thank gawd we all have a sense of humour in my family otherwise, it would have made these ordeals a lot worse. I can attest to the fact that true strength is often found within your mind and not your muscles.

GRANT: I agree 100%. We are surrounded by inspiring people in each of our lives.  This is why this book is so great. It’s very simply written.  It tells a great story.  Perhaps from a more intimate perspective that you may have heard before.  We encourage everyone to read it!

VICKY:  We also wanted to say….Hey Vancouver! Rename your airport will ya? Check out Endorphin Junkie’s blog. She talks about the following:

“There’s a new petition to rename Vancouver International Airport for Port Coquitlam native and Canadian hero, Terry Fox.”

GRANT: Why not?  I’d also rename Stanley Park while they are at it.  Terrance Stanley Fox Park.  Who the hell is Stanley by the way?

VICKY: Lord Stanley was a Governor General of Canada from 1888 to 1893.  He also donated this small trophy to a hockey tournament…you might have heard of it before…the Stanley Cup!

GRANT: Geek. How do you know this stuff?

VICKY: I was a tour guide at Rideau Hall the Governor General of Canada’s residence when I was in university.

GRANT: Well, no offence to Governor Generals, but nobody knows who this person is or why they have one of the most beautiful parks in the entire world named after them.   Rename the airport.  Rename the Park.  Look Canada, it’s not like we have a million famous heroes.  We may as well celebrate the ones we do have.

VICKY: What do you folks think about renaming the Vancouver International Airport?

GRANT: And Stanley Park?

I set myself a little goal last week: six runs in two weeks. No biggie, but things have been so busy (and consiquently I’ve been so tired) that I needed something to help me stay on track. (I use the Nike+ system, so everything’s recorded online by my watch.)

This morning was scheduled to be run number four. Except… it was really windy. I told myself to bring my gym bag with me and decide about running once I got to school. As I steered the car out of the daycare parking lot and realized I was running later than usual, I heaved a heavy sigh. to run or not to run. Busy weekends mean the only day I can get one in is Sunday, and it’s supposed to rain all weekend.

I parked the car an hour before my scheduled meeting, hurried to the gym and changed into my running gear. Just ten minutes out, I told myself, and if it’s too cold or windy or hard then you can turn around. The age old wisdom.

Into the park and through narrow trails, I didn’t even check my watch until 15 minutes into the run. My legs were heavy and my body was tired and my 5k took me four minutes longer than it did a few days ago (I chalked it up to the many hills and muscle fatigue), but I did it.

Even though I did arrive at my meeting with hair wet from the shower and face still flushed.

There is definately something to this Goal Setting.

Yesterday had so much potential. The morning rain storm was quickly blown away and replaced by the kind of blustery-blue-skied autumn day that Nova Scotia is known for. My husband was off work, the kids and I were home. We ran errands and bought pots of fall flowers and played t-ball in the backyard and yet, it just… sucked.

It was one of those days, you know? When your skin is crawling and everything everyone says either grates on your nerves or insults your very being.

My two year old was not her happy, sweet self, she was cranky and whiny and clingy. I got after the kids and snapped at my husband and finally when they went outside to play, I turned on the shower, made it as hot as I could stand and washed away all the frustration and stress. By the time I was finished, my husband had to leave for his evening class and it was time to start cooking supper. The day that was filled with potential had been a bust.

This morning, after the kids were at daycare and before Steve went to work and I went to school, we went for a hard rough run in the woods. There were puddles and rocks to jump around and one impossibly long hill. Steve sprinted ahead, nimbly skipping from rock to rock and over the puddles. The dog crashed through, the bigger the splash, the better. And I trudged along, running as fast as I could when the ground was flat, and doing my best not to fall into the puddles or twist my ankle when the trail got rough.

Life’s kind of like that, isn’t it? Sometimes you’re flying, running so fast, you can’t imagine ever slowing down. Sometimes everything goes smoothly. But inevitably, big puddles come along. And you have three choices. 1) Stop dead in your tracks, turn around and go home. 2) Hop nimbly from rock to rock, getting neither your toes wet nor your sneakers dirty. 3) Just keep going, no matter the muck on your sneakers or the pain in your ankles. Just make it through without breaking anything.

I can’t turn away from the shitty days, because, quite bluntly, it’s not an option. As much as I’d love to pull the blind shut and crawl into bed, it’s just not possible. Nor am I the type of person who can nimbly hop from rock to rock. Inevitably, I trip. Or fall. Or at the very least, tip the rock over and stomp my foot square into the deepest park of the puddle. And so, I continue on. With cold, wet socks and muddy shoes. I ran up that insanely steep hill today, legs burning and by the top, I could barely lift my legs. I reached the crest, finally, only to see my (agile, fast) husband killing time waiting for me by doing lunges.

There is always going to be someone (many someones) fast, smarter, stronger, thinner, better than you. That’s the bad news.

The good news is that it’s not about them. Life is not a race or a test or a competition of any sorts. Life is about running up your own hills, making it through your own puddles. There are shitty days, there will always be shitty days. But sprint, if you can, through them. If you don’t have the energy to sprint, then run, or walk, or trudge, or crawl, or drag yourself. But make it through.

Because you have to. But also? Because you can.