She was there.

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I feel so happy.

I’ve just had a three-day visit with Shannon, one of my very best friends.  She flew from Calgary, just for the weekend; a quick little getaway to use up some airline points and get in some girl time.  She left her husband and two young boys at home, and when she left my place yesterday afternoon, she said to my kids,

“Thank you for sharing your mom with me.”

Such an interesting comment, and so applicable to this stage in our lives.  You see, the last time she visited Burlington was in the Spring of 2009, when I was a brand new, first-time mother.  On that visit, she had her husband and 18-month-old son with her, and they came specifically to meet my newborn.  I was still trying to figure out the new version of me, and the balancing act that comes with parenthood.  My memories of that visit are scarce, muddled amongst sleepless nights, non-stop nursing, and piles of laundry.  But she was there.

Her visit before that, in Spring 2006, is also foggy for me, but for a different reason: my bachelorette party.  Shannon and my friend Sarah flew in to surprise me in Toronto, only a few months before my wedding.  And as a control freak and a planner, let me tell you that I cannot be easily surprised.  But they pulled it off, and whisked me through the TO club scene with a crown on my head and a bachelorette sash around my neck.  She was there again.

Shannon and I have been friends for nearly 20 years now.  We met in l997, at the University of Calgary, when we lived on the same floor in student residence.  We were both raised in small-town, rural Alberta, and had a shared love of sports and boys, with some Type A stubbornness and ambition thrown into the mix.  When we went back to our respective hometowns for our first mid-University Summer, we cried like we were going off to war, and when we returned back to school in the Fall, we celebrated like the Uni students we were.  We’ve been through breakups and heartaches, cross-country moves and graduate school, weddings and babies, mistakes and accomplishments.  We’ve travelled to Milk River and Sundre, Red Deer and Edmonton, New York City and Toronto, Vancouver and Vegas.

“Thank you for sharing your mom with me,” she said, and my heart was full.  Because she gets it.  She gets that my primary role around here, and to those little people, is mom.  She also gets that my other roles are wife and chiropractor and friend.  She knows the back-story that wrote my story and the blocks that built my life.  She’s a part of my foundation, my memories, my past, my future.  When the big stuff happens, she’s there.  And when the little stuff happens, the stuff she doesn’t see because we live so far apart, she books a trip East to see for herself.  “What do you want to do while you’re here?” I asked her when she booked her flight.  “I want to see your life,” she said.  So I showed her: she saw bedtimes and school drop-offs and CrossFit and downtown walks and hot tubs.

She was there.  Just like she’s always been.

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The lessons of sport

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This was a sporty weekend for me, just how I like ’em.  We picked up my daughter’s soccer team picture, my son had a touch football game, I went to the most exciting Jays game I’ve ever been to, and I ran a half marathon.  Well, actually I ran half of a half marathon.

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Months ago, when a May 29th half marathon seemed like a good carrot to chase through the Winter, myself and a couple of girlfriends registered for this women’s only event.  It took place in Sunnybrook Park, the scene of many, many training runs during my Chiropractic College days ten years ago.  It would be a run down memory lane I thought, and a great chance to build up my mileage again after a two-year distance racing hiatus.

I ran Burlington’s Chilly half marathon in early March, under-trained and suffering for 21.1km.  Sunday’s race was to be my redemption; a flat course, more training mileage under my belt, and a small field of runners to help me push the pace and run a race I was proud of.  To have a great trio of supportive friends on the race course with me and a post-race brunch to look forward to was the icing on my proverbial running cake.  Alas, Mother Nature had other plans for us.  With a Spring that’s been abnormally cold and wet, the weather had dramatically shifted to record-breaking heat and humidity.  Not only were we not acclimatized to the heat (I ran my last long run two weeks prior wearing a toque and gloves!), but with the humidity factored in, conditions were dangerous.

The race organizers sent out a warning email the day prior, alerting us that the half marathon distance could be shortened, in what was to be a raceday decision.  If I’m being honest, I was discouraged and annoyed, feeling like my pre-dawn Sunday long runsIMG_3568 and plodding through mid-week mileage with my favourite running buddy were all for naught.  IMG_3458Nevertheless, I carb-loaded at the Jays game, packing a bag full of baked sweet potatoes, Lara bars, and ice water, much to the amusement of my friend Jen.  Yes, I actually did that.  Yes, I’m crazy.

We arrived race morning to find out that the race had in fact been downgraded to 12km (although my friend’s GPS trackers said it ended up being closer to 13km), and organizers encouraged us to treat it as a “fun run” instead of a race.  They were even foregoing age group prizes to discourage racing under such extreme conditions.  It was the right call, despite the day prior’s disappointment factor.  The heat quickly became oppressive and I ran far slower and felt far worse than my perceived exertion would dictate.

Sport teaches us many lessons, and this weekend it taught me adaptability.  And perseverance.  And determination.  And tenacity.  And friendship.  And fun.

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Sometimes.

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I’ve been in Washington, DC, for the last three days, visiting my best friend Sarah.  We have been friends for twenty-five years now, through thick and thin, and she’s just had her second baby boy.  I travelled to DC solo, to have a few uninterrupted days to get to know him and to catch up with her.  

This is what I learned:

Friendships, true friendships, survive distance and time.  

They survive cross-country moves, broken hearts, the pressures of grad school, and the stress of new jobs. They survive marriages and babies and practices and renovations.  They pick up where they left off whenever and wherever an opportunity presents.

And that’s what we’ve done.  For twelve years together and thirteen years apart, we’ve laughed and cried and laughed some more.  

This weekend, we talked about how we never imagined our futures like this. Our teenage minds could never have dreamt of these busy, loving, fulfilled lives we live, and they certainly didn’t dream of raising our babies five hundred miles and a country apart.  Yet, here we are. So although we can’t have dinner together on Sunday nights or see our kids play in the backyard as a pack of four, we can do these things sometimes.  Some is better than none, and once-in-awhile beats never.

So, sometimes, it will be.