Opening Doors at the Soccer Pitch

On February first of this year I started walking regularly at our new soccer facility. While I was in Mexico experiencing Montezuma's Revenge, my husband signed up for a four-month walking pass at the soccer club near us. Well, it seemed funny to me to pay for somewhere to walk--what's wrong with outside?--but I figured I'd try it out.

Since then we have walked every day but three, even mall walking in Victoria when the streets were thick with ice. We have spurred each other through those 'don't feel like it' times and the results are surprising.

We have more energy. We are excited to start our day and accomplish much more than normal.

My writing is flourishing, my husband's various projects are getting done. I am making lists and actually crossing things off. And all due to regular, stress regular, exercise.

Here is a picture of the excellent track where we walk.


And there is almost always something interesting going on below. Soccer games using the full space, soccer-by-age using smaller fields, regular football where people have rented out the space and even rugby games.

The track is always clean, well-marked and airy as huge machines seem to exchange the air constantly. No problem of lack of ventilation chasing us walkers out.

Finally, designers put windows upstairs so that when we are walking we can see the bright sunny day, the lovely homes nearby, the purple and green playground equipment edging the outdoor soccer fields. I really look forward to my walk every day; in fact, I think it's time right now. Care to join?

Mountain Grandeur

Today's pictures are of our hikes with good friends and the breath taking scenery they are fortunate enough to experience year round. They live in Canmore AB except for the winter months when they snowbird off to Florida.

My traveling buddy, Ron, sits before the Bow River in Banff.


Two different days we went hiking with John and Heather. This is one of the views.



Here are John and I hamming it up, as usual, while Ron relaxes.


We thought this would be a great place to golf. Ron has his eye on the Kananaskis country for a golf trip with Kevin and Ben when Ben is 13. We have a while to wait!



This is fall in the Rockies. The yellow larch high up near the treeline are the equivalent to our fall colours here in Ontario. Very pretty.


I hiked up this seemingly endless set of steps in the hillside and turned around to take the picture.


This is a kayaking course where the brave test their skill and endurance going through various twists and turns. I was happy to be on dry land.


This fellow had a kind of a surf board, tied to his ankle so that it wouldn't get away down the rapids, and he was surfing in the fast flow of water coming through these rocks. Until he fell off, but each time he did he made his difficult way back to the notch and surfed again.


The red kayak below centred my picture nicely, don't you think?


Another of the same kayaker.


The Bow River is the centre of many a mountain shot here in Banff. I was disappointed that the famous Bow River view from the veranda of the Banff Springs Hotel has been obscured by trees which have been allowed to grow up.


On our second hiking day we took an easy trail up, up and up. I thought it was pretty hard until I saw what these fellows were doing--mountain climbing!


When we reached the top this panorama was our reward. I could have sat there all day.


And I got another shot of the same view, this time with John surveying the mountains.


John, Heather and I paused a moment for Ron to get our picture. This was my first foray with walking sticks and I found them quite helpful going up. Coming down I just carried them.


Well we're not about to move west any time soon but, my oh my, this is a beautiful part of Canada. Our friends have taken wholeheartedly to the hiking and climbing that is so spectacular around Canmore and Banff and I am a little envious. Meanwhile my husband and I have new hiking shoes and yesterday we hiked the Elora Gorge. Pretty cool there, too.

We're Back to Frigid

After yesterday's post with melting snow and hopes of spring, I bring you today's weather report. Freezing cold! Fifteen below zero Celsius with the wind chill making it feel like twenty below. Yes, we went walking in the sun just before lunch but I didn't see much of the blue sky. My head was tipped down into my scarf and my toque was pulled way over my eyes in a vain attempt to keep my face warm. How cold was it? Too damn cold to be out walking. I long for the weekend and the promised high of seven degrees above zero!

Here is my office with the faithless sun streaming in as though the day is wonderful and warm but I now know better. I'm spending the rest of it snuggled inside.

An Hour in the Garden

Look what was waiting for me this morning in our back yard--beautiful day lilies, dappling in the semi-shade of the maples along the side of our yard.

I love this burnt orange one which gives definition to the space.

And we have a lighter orange keeping it company.

Through the magic of photography I've made this one look pink but it isn't really.

And we couldn't talk about the yard without showing the newly painted deck chairs. Way to go, Ron!

I spent an hour weeding and planting 3 or 4 things and I wondered why I don't go out there more often. Oh, I remember! It's usually too hot for much except swimming. Today is a comfortable 20 deg. C. Gotta love it! Hopefully I'll get into the pool for my lengths, a program I enjoy every summer.

A Country Tradition

Once a month a wonderful, hidden little spot in Central Ontario hosts one of our favorite dance bands, The Royal Aires, and as often as we can, we get a gang together and dance the night away to the sounds of the Big Bands. Lakeside, Ontario, prizes its one and only Danceland, which has a tradition which going back many many years.

A couple of weeks ago we drove the hour trip to Lakeside with a couple of friends and had a great time as always. You might wonder what is so special about this place. It actually has a new building built over the old pavilion-style building which I remember from my teens. We went there throughout the summer, maybe swimming in the lake, buying a burger, and then dancing at night. I remember the sides opened up to form swing-out roofs over those looking inside, but most importantly letting out the summer heat from all those dancers. Once I went to the washroom and when I opened the door to the cubicle there was a panty girdle sitting on the floor, all scrunched up in front of the toilet as though someone had taken it off, sat down, done her business, and then walked away! Yikes!

But times have changed. The facility was updated several years back and now sports the new building right over top of the old with air conditioning, a kitchen, a fireplace and an extended area of tables to sit at surrounding the dance floor. why did the owners spend so much money to build over top of the old building, instead of tearing it down and starting from scratch. I haven't mentioned the floor. Beautiful, even, perfectly finished hardwood is laid over a proper wooden base so as to provide 'give' and thus make dancing fun instead of painful. (It's amazing how many places today advertise dancing and then give you a tired bit of parquet laid right on concrete! That stuff will kill your legs.) So the floor is Danceland's treasure.

If you check out the website you will see another charming bit about Lakeside's Danceland--the customers are all ages. We like the big band music, especially since sometimes we are the youngest ones there, and that music speaks to older people who danced to it in the 40's and 50's. I noticed a tall man, slightly stooped, dancing with his wife who was leading him around the floor. They looked so happy and yet I could see his struggles. Maybe he had Parkinson's or Alzheimer's because his dance steps were shuffles and his wife seemed to be in control. How wonderful that there is still a place for them to enjoy something that obviously meant so much to them.

That Saturday night we picked out several students from dance classes in nearby London, not because we know them, but by the lovely steps they were practising. Some did the tango, others the schottische, lots of us waltzed and flew around doing the polka, but the most prevalent dance was the twostep which you could do to almost everything the band played. We get really tired of that and often do a quick polka step or throw in some jive steps from our many years of dancing together.

Our band of choice is the Royal Aires, pictured below. The leader is in the centre and he and his brother have been doing this for over 40 years. Amazing.

Last visit they had a new trumpet player who, it turns out, used to play with them many years ago, went on to play with lots of the greats, and now has 'retired' to play local engagements again. He was great on trumpet and pretty good as a singer, too.

If you happen to think this all sounds like a good time, check out the website above and join us. Might be a bit of a commute for lots of you, though:-)

Rites of Spring

Last weekend was wonderful weather which fact helped to create a wonderful weekend. Saturday we spent a few hours cleaning up our screened-in porch. I'm amazed that washing furniture, vacuuming and carrying away dead leaves was fun but it was. Getting things ready for a summer of sitting out enjoying the weather is always so full of expectation. That night we had a dinner party of six friends and, for the first time, I had each couple bring a dish. This meant less preparation for us and led to a delightful time that we weren't too tired to enjoy. In the balmy weather we were even able to open the French doors to the dining room and feel the evening air as we ate. Great day and night.

Sunday after church we decided to accompany another couple on a bike tour to Port Dover on the Lynn Valley Rail Trail. This was our first of the season and we were exhilarated. Our friends were well supplied with emergency equipment, good thing since my husband's tire gave up and he had to change it. This slowed us down considerably and we were quite late by the time we got to Dover around 2 pm. Ravenous we hurried to Callaghan's but they had a 40 minute wait. No way. We headed to another favorite spot, Willie's on the Beach, where we ordered up big burgers and onion rings. The burgers were awesome with lots of great fixings. The onion rings, not so much. There we sat on their extensive porch basking, yes, basking in the sun while we ate and talked and laughed. (We were the noisiest table.)

After the requisite walk on the pier and a chat at the lighthouse we headed up the trail to Simcoe again and our cars. A cold drink and more relaxed chatter at our friend's house nearby and we drove the mile home sated and happy, all the more so since we had not planned this bit of serendipity. I love spontaneity!

Skating in Canada, Eh?

To live in Canada and not skate is somewhat rare. From pond skaters to backyard hockey skaters, from Saturday night public skating to organized lessons in figure eights to getting goals, we are a nation of serious skaters. And if ice skating isn't enough, in summer we lace up the roller blades and go 'roller-bootin'. What is the attraction?

I believe there are three things. Human beings have that desire to go fast. We love to fly down hills on our bikes, to dive off the high board, to whoosh down the tallest slide, all for the thrill of sheer speed. And let's not even talk about what we do with our cars.

Secondly we love competition which is the end result of good learning. I mean, if you practice long enough, you'll get good at things and when you get good you like to prove your excellence, isn't that right? We all like to feel we have achieved things and often that centers around competition. Certainly figure skating is internationally a favorite to watch on tv for its beauty and grace but also our reverence for winners. And many of us remember 'Hockey Night in Canada', with that frosty voice of Foster Hewitt as he revved up--"He Shoots! He SCORES!!!"--bringing our living rooms alive with the thrill of the winner, a feeling which has only increased over the years.

For us Canadians, however, I wonder if our love of skating stems from our long winters. Even when we have little snow, we still have a lot of cold, short days and long, dark nights to pass between November and March. With our skates we can get out and embrace winter, steam up our glasses, warm up our toes, all the while having fun.

I've been skating since I was a little girl about 6 or so. I remember a Saturday night when I was allowed to go with my dad and brothers to public skating at the Ingersoll arena. Round and round I skated along the boards as I listened to the music and watched the boys dart in and out. I was one of the big kids! Suddenly I heard my name called over the all-powerful loudspeaker. It was like God was calling me to get off the ice. I looked up at the booth high above the seats and saw my Dad waving me off. Apparently he was afraid I'd get hurt with all the wild activity on the ice. Little did he know I was just preparing for my future of racing the boys around the school (and winning), of reveling in my role as the end of crack-the-whip when they couldn't shake me off, and of flying through the Fourteenstep with my brother, Ross, a fabulous figure skater.

These are some of the reasons I still go skating when I can although my feet don't obey like they used to. Yet when I step on the ice and stride away with long, sure sweeps, I am thankful for my muscle memory which links me to those feats of old. And I keep going.

An Assault On My Psyche

Last week while I was at the gym, a place I quite like going, one of the staff asked me if I would do an hour appointment for a TrueStar evaluation. She needed to fill up her sheet so I agreed, although I told her I had no intention of signing up. Thinking it might be interesting to see what the representative would say, I went back to the gym Monday afternoon, having already done my workout in the morning.

We crowded into the tiny office at the back, all five of us. Yes, you heard it right, five! There I sat faced by the talker who never met a person she wouldn't try to sell, her protegee, there to get instruction, and two of the gym staff whom I know and like. At the outset all was fun and I made a couple of jokes which they picked up on. We were hitting it off quite nicely. Then it was down to business and gradually the mood changed. Only the interviewer and I were talking. The others were just listening to all that was said. This felt somewhat uncomfortable as I had not expected to be the centre of attention for a group session. It was as though I was in the centre wearing a dunce cap and the others were heckling me or just observing the heckling.

I watched as the talker punched my information into the computer in response to my answers. First the normal stuff: name, address, phone, email--I wish I hadn't given that!--and then we moved to medical history. I have rarely had anything go wrong in my life except for one major incident 13 years ago, so I had a litany of no's until it got kind of funny. She then asked me about my bowel movements which I hesitated to answer. This was getting pretty personal, especially with an audience. I mentioned a procedure I am having this week and her interest pricked up substantially. I downplayed the procedure--it really is no big deal--but then she wanted to know exactly why I was having it. I balked. "It's private," I said.

Her black eyes widened and I could just imagine this was not the answer she was wanting, especially in front of the three trainees. "You choose not to answer?" she asked.

"That's right," I replied. "You don't need to know."

From then on the interview proceeded without incident except that at least twice she alluded to her inability to assess something because I wouldn't tell her my details about that one thing. I felt the seat get hotter each time. Finally I watched as she proceeded to the 'store' part of the program. Now I've bought enough online to know there is a payout at the end and I would be the person paying. "I haven't told you I'm joining the plan," I interjected.

"Oh, I'm just putting in what I recommend," she hastily replied, as she continued to fill in the Buy box with "1" until she had four or five products. She went too fast for me to see the cost but I knew it was getting up there. Probably at least $200. Finally she was done and I was presented with what I needed to be perfect. Of course, I think I'm pretty good now. What would the total be for someone who had a lot of ticks in the previous health/history part?

I knew my time to exit was nigh and however graceless that would be I was getting out. "Thanks for the information," I said, as I rose and opened the door. No one else got up. "Was there something else?" I asked and got a negative reply. My bullying session was over. As I drove away and for the rest of the afternoon, I pondered what had happened. I knew my trainer, one of the watchers, would be upset and when I went to the gym this morning that was confirmed. Not to worry. I learned a couple of good things and the rest I'll just let recede into oblivion, memory inducers notwithstanding!

Going to the gym?

All our lives we have loved to be active but as time has passed that desire has receded. We all take our kids to sports like hockey, baseball, figure skating, ringette and a multitude of other active sports but somehow we forget to do these things ourselves. Earning a living, having family time, relaxing, doing things in the community all get in the way of taking care of our bodies, so that in this last third of our lives, we have to plan active things to keep our bodies moving. Hubby gave me a gym membership in July and I have written about it a couple of times. It has helped me physically in changing fat to muscle, reducing my body by 10.25 in. at last count, and making me stronger. Mentally the changes have been much greater. I am back to my chipper, cheerful, look-forward-to-the-day self. Yay!!!!!!!!!!

We go to Norwich Family Fitness, a new facility with quite a history. When we first moved here 30 years ago the building was a sizable brick home on the main street. Then, a couple of entrepreneurial types bought the property, put on an addition, and turned it into a lovely funeral home but, as we already had one in the village, the business died--no pun intended!--and soon the building was empty. (Along the way the proprietors' marriage died as well!) Next came a restaurant, complete with drive thru window, and it lasted a few years, slowly expiring like the business before it. The inevitable For Sale signs went up and weathered many a year before the gossip in town was that someone was buying the building and putting in a fitness centre. Well, it took quite a few months before this actually occurred but open it did. We villagers have been working out and loving it ever since, with more and more people going all the time.

I have just returned from my fifth visit this week and I feel good. It's Saturday morning and I've already done a good thing for me! So. Are you going to the gym?

What a Weekend!

Painting the dining room, driving all over Simcoe, Woodstock, St. Mary's and all the wonderful little villages in between made our weekend exciting and fun. Oh and we had number one son and his wife for a great Thanksgiving dinner somewhere in there as well. We sure crowded a lot into three days.

And the weather! It made driving superb as we travelled the back roads lined with colour. From the red sumac to the unnamed riotous blue/purple flower everyone is talking about this year, and from the variegated yellows, oranges, and reds of the woods along our way, happiness was for the taking as we basked in these glories. There is really nothing like the colours of fall on a sunny day, with blue sky, treasured sunshine--because it has been so rare of late!--and the company of your one true love. This has been a full weekend of Thanksgiving.

Perhaps uppermost in my mind at the moment is the bike trip, yet again, down the Lynn Valley Rail Trail. Having nephew Mark along made the day even more fun as we watched his excitement on the ride and when we stopped above the rivers winding lazily below us and pointed out water plants luxuriating just below the surface. He was excited about the trip but really got into it when we reached Dover and found some lovely huge rocks lining the lake which held fossils of trilobites and other things there for the discovering. There is nothing like a child's sense of wonder.

When we made it back to the vehicles and the half hour trip home we were pretty tired but it was that 'good' tired. You know, the one where you have the sense of having done something awesome. Something special. Oh, what a weekend!

On Becoming Biker Girl

Yesterday two friends and I loaded up our bikes in the back of Olive's van, along with theatre tickets, sun protection, bug spray, wallets and water, and headed for the start of the Lynn Valley bike trail to Port Dover. We parked the van at the trail head south of Simcoe, unloaded the bikes, strapped on our helmets and into the trees we went. An old rail bed, the trail is tree-lined for the most part with sun dappling through, and some open spots. We followed the river on and off and I noted benches placed like sentinels along the way.

"Yippee!" yelled Olive from behind. "I love this trail and I love biking!"

I laughed and called an acknowledgement. I was having a wonderful time, too, and liked being with such an exuberant friend to voice what was in my heart. Up ahead, Karen's white blouse blew in the breeze as her black-clad legs pedalled steadily towards Lake Erie. Bump, thud, big stones spun off my tires and pinged to the sides of the trail, which had become very rocky and I could see that someone had taken some machine along parts of it, probably to smooth it out or something but the result was rough. Eventually it was smoother again and we pedalled more easily, pausing to cross roads as we steadily approached our destination. Being an old rail bed, the trail was excellent for bikers as there were no hills, just a gradual descent to the lake.

When we reached Port Dover we pedalled along back streets as far as we could until quite close to downtown, when we had to use a busy street. I followed Olive as she took the middle lane to go straight through at the light. I jumped as horns blew behind us. Olive called out, "He is angry because we are in this lane but we have every right to be here," and she was exactly right. Confidently I pedalled standing up as I followed Olive through the busy intersection and Karen was right behind. We pulled in to our destination, a wonderful hotdog stand with no pop but instead real fruit drinks. After hooking up with Bev, we bought burgers, hotdogs and fries--a filling fat quotient for the day!--and found a shady place to eat.

We walked out to the light at the point, talking all the way, walked back and straight to a lakeside restaurant for a drink. Mmm. That icy cold went down well. We passed a pleasant hour catching up and it was time for the theatre. We saw a spirited and amusing play called Jasper Station by Norm Foster. A musical, it was very enjoyable with poignant stories for each character, people who met by chance in a railway station. I quite enjoyed it.

The play over we headed back to our bikes, still waiting where we had left them beside Bev's car, locked together around a hydro pole. Lucky for us they weren't stolen. Back on the trail, slightly uphill this time, I followed Karen as she set a fast pace. We started at 4:50 and had a 40 minute ride back to the van. Like horses heading for home we poured on the pressure. This time the ride was a little harder, we were going faster, and it was the end of the day rather than first thing. Nevertheless as I watched my watch the time moved steadily on with the rhythm of my pedals and soon I recognized the approach to the parking lot. We made it! I felt good. The oldest in the group, I kept up with no problem at all. Yippee! I love biking with my friends!

Hello, how are you?

These are the words I say many times a day as I go about my life. From fitness to groceries, getting mail to biking the 'route', cruising the back roads to getting the car fixed I meet many people and that is a huge plus. Some of the folks I've encountered in the last week will give you the idea.
We decided to cruise some of the back roads of our township to get digital photos for hubby to use in his current project. Lucky for us we saw an Amish buggy approaching and decided to try and get a picture, not of them,(we know they don't like that) but of the horse and buggy. We got out of our car and as the buggy approached we could see a young man, maybe 35-40 and a young boy riding with him. As he came up to us, he stopped at my hubby's wave. "We're doing some pictures for the township and wonder if we could get one of your horse and buggy?" hubby ventured.
"You're not taking a picture of me!" the man countered and we hastened to explain we just wanted the horse and buggy. We talked a bit with him and I thought he was okay with the idea as long as I didn't get him in the picture. Suddenly he said, "Well, I'll be going now," shook the reins in his hand and clucked the horse to a trot. I looked at my camera, which I hadn't even turned on yet, and realized I had no time. I stood for a moment watching the buggy bump away from me, thought of my options--I had none!--and dropped my camera to my side without even turning it on. Okay, well I guess we're not getting that picture.
We pushed on to another spot we had in mind to take a shot of an historical octagonal house now under the care of the historical society. I got a couple of angles and headed back to the car. Meanwhile another car approached hubby and wanted to know what we were doing there? Hubby explained as I got back in and I thought we'd be off in a sec. Not so. As soon as the lady heard that hubby was working on a project for the township and mentioned the mayor, she began to spout all her problems with the council, who did what, who said what, what her beefs were, ad nauseum. Hubby, sweet man that he is, told her that his project was not political at all and tried to steer her away from her diatribe. No such luck. I could see she wasn't going to quit until she got all her anger out. I thought of reaching over and turning on the ignition but couldn't bring myself to do it. Eventually hubby did just that. As we were driving away, I said, "Well, I guess you don't want her on your volunteer committee!" and we had some words to say about glass half empty people.
Now just when you think this is going to be really negative, I'll tell you about this morning. We went to the gym, me for the first time, and started exercising. Deb the trainer was quite nice and I felt really comfortable with her. Imagine how sweet it was for me to learn she is a word person, too! I felt that Deb was very good at putting me at ease, getting to the heart of things I needed to do, without actually pointing out my physical deficiencies. Quite a feat, when you think about it! While there I met friends I've known for 30 years and my comfort level went up again. I chuckled along at Helen's jokes, and was delighted when Chris shouted across at me that he got his wife an appointment at the migraine clinic which I had suggested because of her terrible problem. He was so excited to tell me that I felt happy that I had been able to help. The sad thing is the appointment is not for 9 months!
I also met a girl there who told me my husband had taught her and we chatted a bit. Of course she had loved him as a teacher--no surprise--so that was fun. After an hour and a half I was done and hopped on my bike to ride home. The muscles seemed a little stiff but nothing too tough to handle.
When I got home we decided to bike the six miles to the garage to pick up our car. We loaded up the water bottles, strapped on the helmets and headed out. We took it easy in the heat and stopped often under shady trees to take a swig of ice water. In half an hour we were sliding off the bikes and propping the kick stands. Jim stood outside the old-fashioned garage telling us that a simple tire rotation solved the problem which we thought was going to cost five or six hundred dollars. As hubby went in to settle the bill I talked on with Jim. His eyes never actually settle on you so that you might think he isn't interested in you at all. This is totally wrong. He is a Lion who quietly (not roaring) goes about the community doing good things. He is a good guy. We'll be back to him again, for sure.
We hopped in the car, jacked up the air conditioning and headed for home, bikes hanging out of the trunk. We were home in ten minutes, car in the garage, ready to face the rest of the day. And it was still only 10:30 a.m.
So. In case you haven't got the message, "I'm fine!"

Biking in the Country

This morning hubby and I helmeted up and hopped on our bikes for a half hour countryside tour. The breeze riffled through my hair, still wet from the shower, as we slogged up the first long, slow hill. I have solved the problem of vehicles passing too close to me by taking more of the lane until I hear the car close behind me. Then I pull over to give myself--and them--more room.

One day several years ago we were riding single file on the pavement edge of a road with no shoulder. There was no place to pull off without going down into a deep ditch. We had ridden this route many times before but this day I could hear a big truck getting closer and closer. I was a couple of inches from the pavement edge, gripping my handlebars tightly, anxious for him to be past. And there he was, right beside me. I mean RIGHT BESIDE ME! That green Seven-Up truck didn't pull out of the lane at all but passed within a few inches of me. I felt the roar of the tires and the pull of the wind. My hands tightened and my muscles locked as my heart leapt out of my chest. In no more than a second he was by and I realized just how close he had come to me. I stopped. Hubby did, too. We pulled the bikes off the road to let our breathing calm down. We felt the vindictiveness of that driver because there was no one else on the road. He could have pulled over to the other lane but he didn't. And that was in the days before helmets. When I think what could have been, I am still angry at that driver but really ready to practise safety both as a rider and as a driver.

And so whenever I'm riding I remember and make the cars and trucks pull out to pass me. This morning's ride was no exception. Luckily, most of our trek is on 'the road(s) less traveled by' so we can just enjoy the wonderful fresh air and exhilarating childlike whoosh as we race down a hill. I saw a penny, shiny on the road, but I was too fast to pick it up. It's there, shining coppery bright, for someone else to see and snatch.

As we rode back into the village we stopped and hubby picked up a newspaper for us to take to the back porch. We sat with our water and our paper and I thought how lucky we are to have what we have but most of all to be able to ride the days out joyfully and with good health.