Climb for Hospice

After a far-too-long hiatus, I went to yoga class on Tuesday at Open Space Yoga with Michael. It was a core yoga class, which I find easier than Hatha for some reason, so I knew I could take it easy. I have been genetically blessed with strong abdominal muscles, so I take to core work pretty well. In fact, it’s my favourite part of any type of training. I’m one of those weird people who actually looks forward to Boat Pose.  I think the fact that my mom put me in all sorts of sports when I was a kid really helped my body to create and maintain solid abdominal muscles. If all it took were strong abs to make it up a mountain, I’d be carrying Mt. Kilimanjaro up Mt. Everest!

… not really.

Aaaaaaaaaaaanyway… in the core yoga classes, we do about an hour of conditioning work before Michael says the magic words: “It’s time for Savassana”. He dims the lights, puts on some soft music, and we all lay there like lumps of conscious brain matter. I do love my Savassana… it’s a personal space, one where you’re relaxing, but conscious of the fact that you’re relaxing. There’s no worrying about what to eat for dinner after class, or what you need to do at work the next day… it’s just your own time to honour the space and the time that you are in at that moment.

I’ll tell you what happens when I do Savassana – I imagine that I am in Dog Heaven. Really.  I have a rustic cabin there, with a lovely porch housing a gently swaying hammock. The porch overlooks a broad, green field that is gracefully cut through by a wide, slow, clear river. There is a tall, full, green forest beyond the river, and the whole field is in a valley, where snow-capped mountains ambitiously touch the sky. There are flowers in the field. And there are dogs.

Lots and lots of dogs. All they’re all happy, whole, healthy, well-fed and endlessly loved. They play together, and lap from the stream, they run up to me so that I can scratch their fluffy, soft ears and every so often, I imagine… a bacon tree! There are at least 3 dogs fat and happy under the bacon tree.

All of the dogs had a best friend on Earth, and they are waiting in dog heaven to see that friend again. And while they wait, they can look into the stream and see happy memories of their best friend. There are lots of wagging tails in my dog heaven.

Always beside me on my porch, swinging in the hammock and softly dozing with me is my dog Jake. Jake died in 2007, and it was a very sad time. So during Savassana, as I am laying comfortably on my mat in the Open Space studio, I am actually laying comfortable on my hammock, being nuzzled by a snoring, warm, fluffy, 4-legged version of love. It is Paradise.

I have finally learned that it is ok to say goodbye to Jake when it is time to return from Savassana, because I know that I can come back anytime. I give him a pat, slide off the hammock, and leave him there to sleep, and to drink the rest of the lemonade on the table.

But the best part is yet to come. After Savassana comes to an end, we all sit quietly on our mats and take a moment to reflect inward. We bring our hands together at Heart Centre. We exhale and lower our heads. And then, with our heads bowed, and with a sincerity so true, Michael gently says my very favourite phrase:

“Bring a smile into your heart”

I smile, and I feel it in my heart. My chest warms, and that warmth spreads through me like a waving colour. More often than not, bringing a smile into my heart brings tears to my eyes. I am so grateful for that moment. It is the best part of my yoga practice.

Yoga. For the good of the body, the peace of the mind, the memories of your dog, the warmth in the heart.

After my brother recommended it, I’m reading the book “Three Cups of Tea” by Greg Mortenson. It’s a real-life story of Mortenson’s quest to build schools in the wildest, most remote parts of Pakistan and Afghanistan. I’m reading through it pretty quickly – the writing is pretty good, but the story itself is excellent.

Basically, Greg Mortenson is/was a mountaineer who attempted to climb K2 in Pakistan’s Karakoram Range, but was not able to summit. He dragged his weary bones down the mountain, lost, confused, hungry and delirious and stumbled across a village called Korphe. After the gracious villagers cared for him and helped him recover, Mortenson made a promise to them that he would return and build them a school.

The book then follows his adventures as he tries to make good on his promise.

I find the book inspiring, and I respect the fact that Mortenson has the drive and the heart to make life better for children on the other side of the world. But it got me thinking…

What if I fail to summit Mt. Kilimanjaro? Then the pressure is REALLY on! I’m going to have to build a school, or a hospital or something! Maybe ship in 450,000 mosquito nets, fund a boatload of malaria clinics, find a cure for HIV…

This is really stressful! Even if I do summit, well… it’s just a mountain, really. That’s not all that worthy, is it? In order to succeed, I need to fail!

I need to summit Mt. Kilimanjaro, because I’m not sure I have it in me to fail.

I’ve GOT to stop reading non-fiction!

Last night, I was subjected to the mind powers of the most convincing eyes in the world:

Looooook into my eyyyyyyyyyyyyyyes… You will take us on a loooooong walkies tomorrow morning… a looooong walkies, just like you used to before you and the couch became one…

It’s true. I used to take Jenn and Luna on long walks in the morning before I went to work. But I lost some motivation, then I got pneumonia, so they’ve been having short 10-15 minute jaunts for about 3 weeks now. I feel pretty guilty. Perhaps I *should* take them for a long walk…

*The next morning*

MOM? MOM? YOU AWAKE YET? MOM? HEY MOM. MOM. MOM…

*pokepokepoke*  *nosenosenose*

MOM!!

I’m up! I’m up! Ok, ok… Let’s go for that long walkies…

It was a beautiful morning. It has finally become One-Jacket Weather in good ‘ol Ladner. The morning was bright, the birds were singing, my mocha was perfect, and Jenn and Luna were running around like idiots (my friend Sheena calls this “The Zoomies” – which if you’re a dog owner, you will completely understand), happy to be out and about in the fresh Spring air of the morning. I love these 6am walks, I really do. So why have I denied the girls AND myself this most wonderful of rituals?

It felt great to get out and exercise, too. I’ve been so stagnant, and so lazy that I forgot how lovely it is to just walk around my community. The seals bark at me from the river, the swans gracefully ignore me, the ducks nervously mumble-quack as I stroll by, my fellow early-walkers greet me with a smile and a nod. What a perfect start to the day.

From here on in, we’re rockin’ the long walkies in the morning.

It’s good to be back.

In the past 2 weeks as I’ve been lying about all ill and feeling pathetic, my appetite has been somewhat nonexistant. With that, my weight dropped significantly, to where my hip bones were protruding and my cheeks were drawn in. It wasn’t a nice look. I mean, I’m all for looking fit and trim, but the whole ‘starving-coke-addicted-supermodel’ look just isn’t all that attractive.

So… I had to put on some fat. Last week I went out and did something very, very  awesome  bad: I bought a wee bucket of Ben & Jerry’s Cherry Garcia, and then I sat down and ate the WHOLE THING.

I must say, it certainly helped pack the fat back on. I felt somewhat ill after doing it, but it was worth it. That’s why Tums were invented.

However, this morning at 3am, I was tossing and turning in bed, feeling horrible and anxious about my weight gain. I went too far. I sold my Skinny Soul for a pint of cherry ice cream.  I feel fluffy, puffy, chubby and wiggly.

Not what a mountain climber should be feeling.

So, at about 4am this morning I got up and went to the Open Space Yoga website to see what classes I could take. I may not be able to go all out with exercising yet, but I can at least try some gentle yoga to get back into it.

So, after packing my lunch this morning (brown rice, veggies and tofu), I also packed my dinner (quinoa, veggies and prawns), so that I could go to yoga class right after work. If I go home, I tend to make excuses to miss class, so I’m trying to fight that by simply staying at work until I have to leave for class. Hopefully it works.

I’m very disappointed in myself. I’m ashamed, if I can be honest with you… I feel like I’ve taken a big leap backwards health-wise, and it’s kind of overwhelming to have to start again. I’m very disappointed.

Cherry Garcia… you weren’t worth it.

My wonderful friend Kat has made me a wonderful offer…

She will be happy to donate TWO THOUSAND DOLLARS to the Delta Hospice Society in honour of my Kilimanjaro climb… provided I bring her a video of me singing the ENTIRE song ‘Climb Ev’ry Mountain‘ from the movie The Sound of Music at the summit.

For those of you that have actually heard me sing, you will know just how horrifying this idea truly is.

What’s even more horrifying is the fact that I’m actually considering it.

*Googles ‘Climb Ev’ry Mountain’ lyrics*

When we were quite a bit younger, Ali and I were in the Ladner Stingrays Swim Club. Not only did we have swim meets on the weekends and swim practices in the evenings, we also had the most evil thing in the entire world: 7am before-school swims.

That’s right. We had to get up at 6:30, and go to the Ladner OUTDOOR pool. I will never, ever forget the feeling of stepping onto that cold, nubbly concrete deck, and looking into that water just knowing that I had to jump in there.

They told me that the pool was “heated”, and one could certainly ascertain that by simply looking at the water through the mist of the morning, and seeing the streams of teasing “steam” coming off it. I believed them. I actually believed them. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

I’d be all wrapped up in my comfy jammies (with my bathing suit underneath, of course), and would sometimes even have a warm blanket draped around my shoulders. My feet, bare and feeling the cold of the deck, tried to tell me to run. They knew that it was cold! But noooo. My stupid brain said that I had to get into the pool.

To have to get all the comfy layers off to jump into a massive bath of cold water was not at all easy. To this day I simply cannot handle getting into cold water. I get all panicky and freaked out, and begin flailing in the water as I try desperately to doggy paddle and cry at the same time.

The ONLY thing that made the morning bearable was the fact that my mother was (and still is) an inventive, intelligent woman. She knew that her children wouldn’t want to wake up and go swimming! Did she want to fight with three grumpy, snarly kids when she herself was half-asleep? No!

To wake her children up on those 7am swim mornings, my mother would gently place a small chocolate macaroon on our tongues as we slept. She’d stay with us until we woke up, happily to the taste of chocolate, and then she’d hand us another macaroon and softly tell us that we needed to get up and get ready to go. And we would.

To this day, the taste of chocolate & coconut reminds me of my mom. It makes me smile. It reminds me that even though I may have to do something I don’t want to do, I can make it sorta’ fun if I get creative with it. My mom actually made it possible for us to look forward to those 7am swims. Genius, isn’t it?

And so, that’s why I am bringing a bag of chocolate macaroons with me on my Kili climb. I’ll have them tucked away beside my sleeping bag, and when I am woken the morning, I will grab a macaroon and be happy, even for a brief moment, before I get my cold clothes on and trudge up a mountain.

Gotta’ say, I love the fact that I can turn even the most strenuous of physical activities into an excuse to eat chocolate. Thanks mom! xo

Just got a GREAT song recommendation to add to my KiliClimb Playlist:

“Barney Fade” (Future Loop Foundation mix) by Fragile State

I’ve been listening to it on repeat, and I am completely in love with it. It’s very inspiring, uplifting and emotional. It’s exactly what I need for my playlist.

Speaking of inspiring, uplifting, and emotional…

I am so thrilled that I can FINALLY let you all in on the BIG FAT SECRET that I’ve been forced to hold in. Ladies and gentleman, I can now officially announce my Kilimanjaro climbing partner:

ALISON HOGG! (*wild applause*)

That’s right, my hiking partner has now become my climbing partner, and we are going to kick some serious Kilimanjarse! Yah, baby!

Now, as cool as this is going to be for me, (to be able to travel to the other side of the world with my life-long friend and hike up the world’s largest free standing equatorial mountain with her), Alison is just totally blowing my mind. Y’see, Alison is doing more than just conquering a mountain; she is conquering her greatest fear: herself.

An extremely private person, Alison has decided to make the most of her journey by inviting the world into her heart, her head, and her home. Her website FatGirlClimbsKili.com is a daring, open space for her to face her fears and admit some things to herself that she didn’t necessarily want to. As you can tell from her website, Ali has a very slick, self-depreciating sense of humour, and she’s braving the openness of the Internet, and the world, to show herself as she really is.

Alison has decided that she is going to climb Mt. Kilimanjaro in an effort to raise $10,000 for The Heart & Stroke Foundation. As an overweight woman, Alison is well aware of the importance of heart health, and is willing to show her own personal struggle with weight, fitness, and motivation to the world – friends and strangers alike – to increase awareness to all.

Alison, I am so happy that you and I are climbing this mountain together, and I am honoured to be a part of your journey. I support you, I love you, and I think you’re incredible.

ROCK ON, FAT GIRL, ROCK ON! xoxo

I went for a bike ride yesterday. It was the first time in about 12 years that I’ve been on a bike. I used to really enjoy biking, and had a nice Rocky Mountain Cardiac that I rode around on. But then… well, I got sick. I blamed my biking. Irrational, I know, but when one is sick rationality falls to the wayside. So, I blamed my bike for making me sick, and I stopped riding, and that was that.

Late last year I bought a bike off a very dear friend of mine in the hopes that I would be able to ride it and get my cardio up for climbing Mt. Kilimanjaro. It has been sitting next to my treadmill, taunting me for months. “I can’t!” I say to Evil Bike, “You’ll make me sick again!” But Evil Bike is having none of it. Yesterday, Evil Bike finally won me over…

Now, the bike I am used to riding has big, fat tires that allow me to roll over pretty much anything that comes across my path; rocks, roots, branches, protesting teabaggers… But Evil Bike is a road bike, not a mountain bike, and as such it has these teeny tiny little tires that are just a bit wider than heavy gauge dental floss. Thus, each time I roll over anything (pebbles, cracks in the road, paint chips, dust particles…), my brain screams “THIS IS IT! YOU’RE GOING OVER!” And so, my lovely ride through town (note to self: do NOT ride when farmers are spreading manure on the fields!), was punctuated with brief, heart-stopping moments of “THIS IS IT! YOU’RE GOING OVER!”

I am grateful for living in Ladner. Why? No hills. It is the ideal place for the ‘I’m Just Not That Into It’ bike rider. I rode along the farm roads and memories of past bike rides came flickering back… the wind against my cheeks, the rain pouring down the visor of my helmet, THIS IS IT! YOU’RE GOING OVER!… nope. false alarm… that burning/aching feeling in my butt cheeks as I try to find the perfect balance on my seat -kind of like balancing a marble on a toothpick- I remember ‘The Zone’, and I’m hoping that I’ll hit it soon. Then I know I can go on forever! But for now, I’m pretty sure I’m going to die. C’mon Zone… where are you!?

Ahhhh! There it is! And off I go! Me and DJ Doboy carefree, riding in the rain, loving the moment, wishing to god I weren’t so terribly petrified of taking my hands off the handlebars so I could change out of this horrendously difficult gear I’m in… yep, I’m happy, happy, happy.

After riding for a couple of hours (read: 20 minutes), I begin to tire and want to head home. I know this is a bad idea, as I need to get some cardio done today, and if I turn back now, it will become a bad habit where I ride for a scant couple of hours (again, read: 20 minutes), the go home and eat popcorn. But I’m tired. But I should keep going! Awww, man, I’m tiiiiiired! My legs hurt! Must… keep… going… willpower… fading… must… find… inspiration…

I decided to ride past the Hospice. That’s what I’m doing this for. I can’t forget that.

And so I turn, and I ride, and I remember. Want to guess what I did when I rode past? One guess. C’mon…. you know this one! It’s easy! Thaaaaaaat’s right – I cried. Just a little though! I carried on and rode for a little while longer before making the decision to head home. It was time, and I was happy with what I had done, especially considering I hadn’t done anything like it in over a decade.

I ride past my friends’ homes (Hi Tony!), and slow down to see if anyone is out in their yards (Hi Laura! Hi Better Still Day Spa!), but alas no one is about (Hi Bin! Hi Amelia!), and I weave my way among the familiar streets of my home town (Hi Uuuuuuuuuuuuuuuds!), until I’m happily back (Hey Lynda! Hi Brian and Valerie!), and ready for a well-deserved rest.

I don’t think Evil Bike is as evil as I think she is. I had fun! In fact, DJ Doboy and I are actually looking forward to hanging out with her again. Life is good.

Usually when I hike Ali is with me, and (between creative strings of profanity) we yabber on about this, that and the other as we hike up there, and walk over that way, and carry on down.

When I tackled the Gingell Grind a few weeks ago I was all alone, and so decided to take my ipod with me for company. It so adeptly blocked out the sound of my humiliating wheezing, that I figured that maybe it would be a grand idea to take my iPod up Kilimanjaro, too.

The problem is that I only have an old (“old”, as in four years old) iPod Nano which has limited space, and more importantly, limited battery life. So, I made the decision to use some of my tax return money to buy a big, fat, file-thirsty, extendo-battery iPod for my trip! I went on-line, ordered my new toy, and in a moment of sentimentality-inspired genius, I had it inscribed with: “Kili 2010 – Climb for Hospice“.

So now I have space for 40,000 songs!! And although I can fill the space with music, some audio books (I already have books by Jon Stewart and Stephen Colbert on there), and a Spanish Language Tutorial (nothing like learning Spanish while walking through a Swahili-speaking country), I wanted to try something a bit different…

I need you.

Until August 1st, I will be taking music suggestions from you for my Climb Kili Playlist. The playlist will be comprised solely of music suggested to me by all my readers. I was going to create the playlist by myself, but after adding “Eye of The Tiger” four times, I kind of got stuck.

What should I have on my playlist?

What music inspires you?

What song makes you want to work hard?

If my climb were an 80’s movie montage where some geeky friends and I were fixing a car or making a science project, what music would you put in the background?

I would love to hear from you! I’m excited to see how creative and diverse this playlist is going to be! When my website gets up and going, I will have a running list of all the songs that have been suggested to me by readers, so that you can all see what the list is looking like.

Until then, feel free to comment here, or send me an email at [email protected] with your suggestion.

Rock on, readers!

Last night I was invited to my friend Keith’s home to watch the David Breashears 2002 documentary called To The Roof of Africa. It’s an IMAX film about a group of people climbing Mt. Kilimanjaro, and Keith thought it would be good for me to see it. Since it’s a much nicer title than the previous David Breashears movie I saw, I agreed to go. I mean, if the film were called “Kilimanjaro – IN THE DEATH ZONE”, I may very well have reconsidered his kind invitation.

And so I took a journey up Kilimanjaro, while sitting on a comfortable couch with a glass of Banrock Station merlot in hand. Not bad, really! At one point Keith’s wife Joan let me know that if I just pushed a little button on the side of the sofa, a little leg rest would pop up. I thought this was just too decadent, so I politely declined the offer. Besides, knowing me, I’d probably spill my wine.

The film was only 40 minutes long, but my was it ever beautiful. I was both inspired and petrified, as I alternately marveled at the scenery and cringed at the effort those climbers were undertaking. However, through the entire film I was thinking to myself, “I can do this!”

Of course, I was also thinking, “oh, crap. That looks really, really hard… but I can do this. I..wow, that’s really kind of muddy in that section, and… hey!! IS THAT A SPIDER?! Oh god. I can do this. I can do this. ARE THOSE TENTS?! Oh dear God… where’s the shower? I’m not seeing a shower! WHERE’S THE SHOWER?! I can do this. I can do this. Breeeeeeathe, breeeeeeeathe…. be calm, breeeeeathe…”

I was grateful when Keith offered to refresh my drained wine glass.

This is not going to be an easy climb. I get that. But I do have a feeling that whether I summit this mountain or not, this adventure will change my life forever.

I can do this, I can do this, I can do this.

Yesterday I stopped by the Delta Hospice’s Supportive Care Centre in Ladner to pick up some pamphlets. It was a lovely day outside; chilly, yet bright and clear. As I pulled up to The Centre, I noticed a cute, fluffy black bunny happily nibbling away at something on the lawn, pleasantly ignorant of my arrival. It was pretty darn adorable, I must say. But then again, I’m a sap for animals, and I think even possums are pretty darn adorable, too.

Anyway, I went inside the Centre to grab the pamphlets, and was met by a lovely Hospice Volunteer at the front desk. I pointed out the fuzzy black ball of hopping, munching bunny on the lawn, and she remarked that there are many bunnies that make The Supportive Care Centre their place to hang out during the day. And then, with absolute sincerity and with no hint of malice or anger, this lovely volunteer says, “bless their hearts, they’ve eaten all the landscaping, so we’ve had to re-do it all again. I guess everyone has to eat, though!”

And then, with a peaceful, bright smile she handed me what I came for, completely oblivious to the fact that she had just said the Gold Medal Winning Nicest, Most Understanding Statement EVER.

The Delta Hospice: your Local Meanie-Free and Bunny Welcoming Zone.

I love that place.