And it Begins

I can't keep it together. My heart is too full of humbling inspiration. Those who know me well, know that I live for the Winter Olympics. I have friends who have, and are, competing in these games but my love affair started long before that. Athletics has always been the thing that makes my heart sing. I have always found that great personal strength comes from being part of a team working towards a common goal, it also comes from the lonely nights on the ice, the long cold days on the slopes, solo paddles on a lake. Hard work, perseverance, doing more than was expected of you. Humility, victorious joy, deep and persistent national pride.

The 2010 Olympics lit my heart on fire. Having been an athlete in many of the sports I watched on TV I felt a common bond with the heart ache and exuberant celebrations I saw. I was glued to any coverage I could get my hands on. Every story, every win, every fall or slip, every measure of 10ths of a second that separated the winners from those who almost won. I, like I imagine so many Canadians, remember exactly where I was when our hockey players won their golds. I remember the first gold won on Canadian soil. I remember Jon Montgomery and his pitcher of beer. I felt so Canadian. I felt so much a part of something bigger than myself. Even now, as I patiently wait for the opening ceremonies to start I tear up (read: full on sob) at the images of Olympics past. Those images are imprinted deeply on my mind.

Sochi is different. I get that. I am disgusted at the treatment of people by those in charge and those who follow their lead. People in general because I believe it is so much more than the issues getting face time on TV. Discrimination and mistreatment is degrading to everyone and I hope, in not too many years, that the world will look back with disgust and disbelief on the behaviour of those who clearly have so much time on their hands and so little creativity that they have to take it out on who ever they possibly can. They aren't fooling the rest of us. That being said, I am electric with anticipation for the stories of redemption, victory and underdogs winning gold. I can't wait for the sport.

My passion for the Olympics started when I watched Eddie the Eagle fly above Calgary, when I met the Jamaican bobsled team, when I took my first ski run that winter. Not a bad place to start. Now it's more. Though SO much of it is political at the end of the day it is a wonderful reason to see good in the world. To see those who set the example of dedication, of spirit and who represent their countries with something greater than pride. They are teammates and let us be part of the team as well. Perhaps I am biased but I believe that sport is a great unifier and the Olympics bring something special.

I guess all that is left to do is get the Kleenex box and Canada gear out and get ready to cheer for the red and while!

Our Young Lives

Each one is different and we have survived another year. This time as I reflect on all that's changed since the last Feb 1st and since the first one, I can look back at the healing that has happened. We will never forget. Those cold days eleven years ago will be marked about our souls and minds like constellations imprinted across the sky, seven stars, even in the daylight they are there, just harder to see, but always there.

While we will likely never forgot what happened, how it felt, the bonds that formed over the loss, I see it in the faces of those I survived with, we are all finding ways to heal. What I lost when I was 17 was my willingness to let others in. I gained an unwavering need to always be strong, never be anything else. This marked my relationships, or lack there of, for almost 10 years. My heart lay only with the mountains that both gave and took life at their will. They provided me strength, a source of passion and creativity as well as a deep humility in the face of the realities of life.

In the past few years I have let a little of my toughness go. I have slowly started to let others in, beyond my walls of strength that were as much there to keep me in as to keep others out. It hasn't been the easiest or softest process but it has helped me to fill in some of the space that was torn open by the snow and rocks. I have been lucky enough to find someone who has let me become more more whole. Someone who has given me the space to heal and supported me when it was all too much.

With all the healing that has and will happen we will always remember those who and what we lost and the moments after that will bond us together forever.  So as I sit here, across the country, flung far from the mountains that acted as the pillars supporting my young life, I remember the moments of my youth. With fondness, growing up on the prairies and in the Rockies, and with sadness in the corner of my heart for what we lost. For what changed us in our young lives.