I hate camping.

8 Comments July 26, 2016 drworobec

This past weekend, I went camping with my family. Just a short trip, for two nights and three days, we ventured to Pinery Provincial Park, on the beautiful shores of Lake Huron. But I have a shameful secret to share:

I hate camping.

It’s true. And now I feel exposed and raw and vulnerable. You now know the real me, one that includes a hatred of camping.

I grew up in the foothills of the Alberta Rockies, and regularly went camping with my parents and brother. I don’t remember loving or hating it, it was just something we did every Summer, and I would bring my books and fishing rod and head out into nature for a few fresh air sleeps. Back then, I lived in a small town, and “nature” was a big part of my everyday, so camping wasn’t much of a stretch beyond my normal. But now, living in a very urban centre, it’s more of an adventure for my city kids to camp. And they love it. We go annually, and my husband and I suck up our camping aversions, load up the SUV until we can’t see out the windows, and take our children to a campsite for a few days of marshmallows, lake swims, and free-range parenting.

Logically, I can’t quite figure out my negative feelings towards camping. I love the campfire part, the fresh air part, the hikes, the swims, the fishing, and the tent sleeps. But the higher-maintenance part of me wants clean feet and easy access to coffee, and I still haven’t figured out how to cook a gourmet meal on a campfire, like I see our camping neighbors doing. In fact, just last night I overhead a mother tell her son they were having Tex-Mex fajitas as I choked down my burnt hot dog and lukewarm beans. Sigh. And I can’t quite understand the appeal of spending hours making lists, grocery shopping, and packing the car, only to head to a campground to try to emulate the comforts of home. To each their own, and a true camper I am not.

I am writing this post from my iPad in the car, on our way back to Burlington. My grimy, exhausted children are colouring in the backseat, and my hairy, sweaty husband (he just wrestled the tent back into its bag. Another question: WHY OH WHY are tent bags always so small???) is looking for the nearest Tim Horton’s. In a couple of hours we’ll be home, and I’ll be scraping the filth off of me and washing campfire smoke out of my hair so that I can head into work and look forward to a blissful sleep in my own bed. But first, we’ve got a few hours of unpacking, de-sanding, and laundry to tackle.

Happy children. Check, check, double-check. So I can pretend to love camping for a few days a year.

Come with me.

7 Comments June 27, 2016 drworobec

The sweetest moment happened to me in the early hours of Sunday morning. Two days later, it’s still making me smile, so I want to share it here with you.

I had my alarm set to wake me at 6:30am, wanting to get in a run before the rest of my household was up, so as not to miss precious weekend family time. In my mind, I was planning for a fast 8km, much of it at tempo pace, as I’m doing a 5K race on Friday and haven’t tested much speed since my shortened half marathon four weeks ago. I was looking forward to the glassy lake, music in my earbuds, and to feel the burn in my lungs. This run had been scheduled into my online calendar many days prior, and as I often do before a run, I had visualized my route and mentally prepared for the welcomed discomfort that a hard effort brings.

My alarm beeped softly, and sunlight was already streaming into the bedroom, a nice change from the cold, dark Winter pre-dawn runs only a few months prior. My four-year-old daughter was snuggled up against me; as I’ve mentioned before, since our move last September she’s taken to crawling into our bed halfway through the night- something I cherish and know won’t last forever. As I snuck out from underneath her embrace, her sleepy eyes started to open. “Where are you going?” she whispered. “I’m going for a run,” I replied. “Go back to sleep, it’s too early to get up.”

Now, she often stirs when I head to the gym at 5:30am and a simple “go back to sleep” puts her right back into dreamland. But this time, her eyes welled up and as she laid back down I could see her little mouth turning into a soft whimper. She began to suck on her fingers for comfort, something she’s done since she was a newborn. She was crying because I was leaving. My heart broke.

“Do you want to come with me?” I asked. “Yes,” she nodded and pulled back the covers, her bedhead on full display and her little body still warm from slumber. In less than five minutes we were out the door, with a Chariot full of breakfast snacks and a little girl in pyjamas. It was a sunny Summer morning, and because we were so early, we got to enjoy quiet streets and sleepy houses, with bunnies and robins abound.

I changed my run plan from push-the-pace to savour-this-moment, and savour it I did. We did that 8km along the lake, as I had originally planned (and we got the glassy lake that I love so much), but my heart rate stayed low and my heartstrings pulled high. I stopped to open snack containers, to play at the park, and to point out the geese and the paddleboarders. We talked about every thought that popped into her head, every bike that rode by, and every seemingly-mundane thing that fascinates a four-year-old. It was quite possibly the best run I’ve ever had, and my runner’s high is still going.

Running with my kids is not new- there are thousands of miles on my running stroller I’m sure, and they are both very used to joining me. But this time was different because our family is at such a time of transition. You see, this smart, inquisitive little girl is heading to full-time Kindergarten in September, and I’m having a hard time with it (see my previous post on the topic). She’s growing up and gaining independence, and the days of me pushing her in the running stroller, the days of her sobbing to join me on a run, and the days of her sleeping beside me are numbered. I’m hyper-aware of this the second time around.

Have I mentioned that I’m an emotional sort? Add in life changes, my children, running, and a glassy lake, and I’m done for. But my tears were happy ones, they are happy ones; it’s just that sometimes the love and gratitude overwhelm me.

So if you saw a crying mother and a chatty little girl zipping along the lakefront on Sunday, that was us. “Run fast Mommy,” she said.

I will, sweet girl. Come with me.

A word is a word is a word…

Leave a comment June 14, 2016 drworobec

Last week I received two of the loveliest emails. Heartwarming, kind words, written by patients who took time out of their day and sent them to me. They made me smile and gave me reassurance that my goals with my practice are on track; my intentions have always been sincerity, integrity, and comprehensive care. I want patients to feel like they know “me” (hence this blog) and that they can trust me completely with their musculoskeletal healthcare. I’m an open book with my emotions, and that extends into my practice life as well- what you see is what you get, and I’m invested in and fully committed to my work and my patients. I’ve asked both of the aforementioned patients if I can share their words, and they’ve both agreed:

MG wrote:

“Thank you so much for being awesome at what you do! I feel so much better now that he is under your care. I’m sincere in all my thanks, I just think you are the best and have the best interests of your patients always in mind. We are on track!”

MB wrote:

“I can’t tell you how much better my Achilles feels today! It is like night and day. Amazing! Thank you very much!!”

Simple words that made a real difference in my life. And the fact that I’ve made a difference in their lives too means I’m doing my job. Connecting with people, the people part, is what I love the most.

These emails and the positive effect they had on me got me thinking about the power of a compliment and therefore the power of words in general, to help or harm. As a healthcare professional, I am very careful with my wording and phrasing to patients. As a mother, I am very careful with my wording and phrasing to my children. But over the years, like we all have, I’ve missed opportunities to compliment people when in fact I’ve thought the words in my head.

Today, I challenge you to hand out a sincere compliment to three different people in your life via phone, text, or email. Watch what it does to them, and to you.