Worobec Beach

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Did you know that it was Burlington Green’s Community Clean Up Green Up Day this past weekend?  I’m asking because I was only made aware of this wonderful event a couple of years ago.  It’s now an annual tradition for our family, and one that I treasure for so many reasons.

Every year around Earth Day, the valuable Burlington Green committee sets up an online registry whereby residents can choose an area of the city to focus their cleanup efforts, or join a larger group effort, of which many neighbourhoods plan in advance.  The City even provides cleanup supplies and disposes of waste items collected.  There is a celebratory BBQ afterwards and a compilation of cleanup pictures distributed at a later date.

Last year, we chose to clean up the ravine that was directly behind our house. In a matter of a couple of hours, we had pulled four drum-liner garbage bags of waste from the ravine and its stream.  I was amazed at what a clear impact we made in such a short time and impressed with the impression it made on my kids.  This year, in a new house and new surroundings, we decided to choose a place near and dear to our hearts; we chose “Worobec beach.”  Now, you will not find the name Worobec Beach on any official maps, but we’ve found a small secluded stretch of the Lake Ontario shoreline only a 10-minute bike ride from home, and made it our namesake.  It’s our little treasure in the city, our happy place.

We spent about an hour at Worobec Beach, wearing rubber boots and work gloves, combing through things that had washed up onshore and things that had blown in from the park or the road.  We picked in between the boulders that lined the shoreline, and the trees that give Worobec Beach its secluded privacy.  Although not as garbage-riddled as last year’s ravine cleanup, we did manage to fill one garbage bag right to the brim, mostly with plastic bottle tops, straws, and empty beer bottles.

We made a difference.  My kids saw the obvious implications of their hard work.  They learned about their environment, contributing to their community, and the value of working together.  All while basking in the sunshine and their parent’s pride.

I encourage you to sign yourself up for Burlington Green’s Eco-News so that you don’t miss this valuable event next year.

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April, May, June

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My youngest child is heading off to Junior Kindergarten (JK) in September.  In Ontario, children are registered in JK the year that they turn four.  Kindergarten is a two-year, play-based curriculum, and it became a full-day program across the province in 2014.  So, in just a few months, off she will go to join her brother in the everyday school world.

She’s ready.  I, on the other hand, most certainly am not.

When my son was born in 2009, I chose to take a huge step back from my career.  I had only been in practice for a few years at that point, and it soon became clear that I could not operate a clinic and be at home with my son as much as I wanted to be.  Something had to give, so I sold my clinic in 2010 and have worked as an Independent Contractor, running my business within a business, since then.  In 2013, after my daughter was born, I found my BSSC family and planted my practice roots.  Now here I am, for the first time in seven and a half years, preparing to go back to full-time hours. The chapter of my life with young children at home, a chapter that seemed to stretch endlessly before me, is in fact, coming to a close.

My husband and I have always altered our schedules to work opposite hours so that one of us can be at home with our kids.  For the first three years, that meant just my son and I had our mornings together, and for the last two years it’s been just my daughter and I.  But she and I only have three months left of our girls-only weekdays.  My husband is a teacher, so will be back at home starting in July, as will my son, who is finishing Grade 1.  Just April, May, June, and then the page turns.

They say that the days are long but the years are short.  And they’re right.

Here’s to twelve more weeks of what-shall-we-do-today mornings….

High on Accomplishment

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Two days ago, I ran in Burlington’s Chilly Half Marathon.  This was the 20th anniversary for the event, and I’m guessing that I’ve participated in six or seven of those twenty.  The Chilly Half is a staple in my life.  There have been years when I was fit and fast, years when I struggled just to finish, and years when I ran with friends for fun.  Sunday seemed to be a combination of all of the above.

Approaching this race, my mindset was different than ever before.  This time I was running for only me, ignoring the self-imposed pressures of race times and previous bests.  My dear friend Michaela was set to be at my side, but unfortunately got sick the day before and couldn’t make it.  So I ventured to the start line solo, took a picture to offset some nervous starting corral energy, and off I went with the pack.

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I started much faster than I’d planned, getting caught up in race-day adrenaline and swept along with the thousands of footsteps around me.  Perhaps it was my imagination, but I heard panic in the voice from my running app as it announced my pace per kilometre.  In hindsight, that panic was likely my internal dialogue, as I knew I could not hold onto the speed I’d started with.  I have lots of racing experience and have probably completed upwards of thirty or forty half marathons; going out too fast is not an error I make often, but one that I know the full ramifications of.  And sure enough, I paid for it: my right foot went sporadically numb, my chronic hamstring injury reared its ugly head, and my obliques were screaming from those awful toes-to-bar in my CrossFit Open workout two days prior. Kilometres six through nineteen were a blur of self-talk…..

“Breathe in.  Breathe out.”  “Keep going.”  “Hold this pace.”  I read signs and repeated them in my head to the cadence of my footfalls:  “App-le-by Line.  App-le-by Line.  App-le-by Line.”  I did the math over and over: “If I slow two seconds per kilometre for eight kilometres and then pick it back up for the last two, what will be my finish time?”  “Just get to the turnaround.”  “Just get to the next kilometre.”  “You can do it.”

But this post isn’t meant to be a race report.  To write a race report, you must race, and that’s not how I approached Sunday; I was over-scheduled, under-trained, and certainly not prepared.  Instead, this post meant to tell you what happened after the race.  I finished in 1:42.  My personal best is 1:23 (in 2004).  This means I ran nearly one minute per kilometre SLOWER than what I used to run.  And yet, it’s hard for me to remember a running moment I’ve been prouder of than I was on Sunday.

You see, this was waiting for me:

My kids.  My friend’s kids.  The medal, the music, the energy, and they were caught up in it all.  My children have been to dozens of finish lines to cheer me on, but this one seemed different.  Their excitement and pride shone through their smiles, bigger than ever before, and I could physically see the impression I’d made on them.

The truth is, I talked myself through that entire 21.1km.  I finished through sheer will and stubbornness.  And that’s why I keep running, keep racing, keep coming back for more: the runner’s high.  And really, the runner’s high is just fancy lingo for a sense of accomplishment.

On Sunday, my children got that runner’s high too.  So all my struggle was worth it.