Pink Hair!

Happy Fall Equinox,

“You weren’t aiming for pretty, were you?” exclaimed the one stylist to Melissa, the woman who kindly volunteered to turn my hair rosy. We all cracked up as I said, “Nothing about this past week has been about pretty.” It was Friday afternoon and the culmination of a most amazing week. That morning the executive of the Human Kinetics and Recreation Society has been in my office, dressed in pink props, presenting me with a cheque for $500. Theirs, along with a few others that day, insured we met the goal of reaching the halfway mark of the climb’s fundraising goal and I would be keeping my two o’clock appointment at Signature Salon.

I wasn’t sure who was more nervous, Paula or I. We gone for a celebratory lunch at the Casbah where a woman at the neighbouring table was overhead saying, “Look we get to sit by the angel.” Personally I was identifying as “Madame Butterfly” that day. I’d spent the morning leading a teaching seminar for grad students and I must said they looked a bit aghast as a pink winged, wild panted, scarf wearing professor showed up at the front of their classroom.

The process started with stripping the dark brown from my hair turning it into golden yellow. We joked that I could assume the moniker “Golden Rod” and that it wouldn’t be good to stop the process there. Melissa decided to leave the roots brown to provide shadow and texture for my face (and I thought–“That will give me a head start on growing it out.”). Paula snapped picture after picture of the process and seemed quite pleased that I was about to be transformed into a coral-topped wonder. As Melissa applied the first stroke of colour, Paula turned a very pale shade of pink, threw her hands in front of her face, and didn’t say a word for 15 minutes. At that moment, I became a tad bit worried.

After the rest of the almost nuclear glowing pink dye was applied, I was wrapped in cellophane and tucked under the hair dryer to cook. For twenty minutes, I reflected on what it must be like to be undergoing cancer treatment and face the unknown, to face the loss of hair and identity, and to not have much choice about what was unfolding. It was then that I calmed down and knew that having pink hair was not going to be a big deal. Although the dye was permanent, my hair would grow and a few months from now, I’ll be back to a full head of regular colored hair.

When Melissa rinsed the dye from my head, pink bubbles abounded and Paula came back to life. A photographer and writer from MUN dropped by and we had fun regaling them of stories from the week. My day glow hair emerged and as Melissa dried and styled it I could see a mix of reactions on the other stylists faces-ranging from bemused grin to abject horror.

Paula and I stepped out unto the street for some pictures and she asked me to don some lipstick to complete the hair, scarf, lip trilogy and I initially refused. It had been a huge week of being out on my edge and I was tired. I refused a few more times but eventually gave it and took the lipstick and mirror. I puckered my lips and instantly Paula grasped the situation, I truly had no idea of how to put on lipstick. We laughed until our guts almost spilled out on the sidewalk and then I turned my back to try to put some on. Again, Paula was in near convulsive laughter as she noticed that I held the lipstick solid and moved my head around to apply it!.

I rushed home as I was giving the rally speech for the Take Back the Night march that evening and tried to sort out what to wear. I finally settled on a black jacket and black pants since it’s sometimes hard to get shades of pink to match. I gave an on-camera interview with NTV just before the march began and the interviewer seemed to take my pink locks in stride (unlike most of my friends who saw me there.) I’ve been wearing black since and with my return to a normal wardrobe, I easily forget that I’m doing an imitation of a flamingo with a mullet.

Thanks to all who supported Pink Outside the Box this week-your generosity allowed us to get to base camp with the overall campaign (perhaps even camp one). The Canadian Breast Cancer Foundation-Atlantic will put the funds to very good use in trying to create a future that is free from breast cancer. Special thanks to Paula Tessier for all of her support and efforts this week and to Marian Wissink who followed me around on a busy week to capture Pink Outside the Box in pictures. Click here and here to see images from the week.

The week was full of “Ring of Fire” moments and times of wonderful connection. I had so many conversations that would not have occurred if I hadn’t taken on the challenge of both climbing Pumori and dressing in pink. There are so many stories to tell but given my to-do needs to have a few items taken off it, I’ll share just a few of my highlights…the moments that will stand out for years to come.

• Playing ball hockey with pink wings on my back and hearing my teammates call out, “Go Wings, fly up that court.”
• Having Sarah give me pink laces to stick in my skates and Cherry and I rip out my old laces in record time to get the new ones in before the zamboni got off the ice.
• Hiding in the pink carnations at the dollar store and being able to blend in.
• Having Wanda come to an early morning training hike in pink pajamas as support to me and having a WOKies Pink Happy Hour (Thanks, AM).
• Wearing a belly dancing skirt that arrived in the nick of time from Qatar on a morning training hike above Quidi Vidi and realizing I would never use an ordinary bear bell again.
• Being moved by a groundswell of support and receiving pink wings, sunglasses, hair curlers, purses, lipstick, and shell bra to wear this week.
• Seeing Joanna’s face at the arena when she saw me playing hockey in her pink gloves.
• Getting a lesson from Steph and Megan in the many ways to wear a scarf and being amazed that I said, “This is a nice scarf.”
• Realizing that at the end of the week, I can imagine wearing pink, that I look pretty darn good in pink, and that it’s always good to try new things and new colours because you never know where they will lead.

I leave for Nepal a week from tomorrow. I had a pretty good week training and capped off the preparations for doing a ten ascent sequence on Signal Hill. Joined by many of the WOKies and a few others, I climbed the road leading to the top of Signal Hill, carrying my 55-pound pack, ten times. It took about 4 hours of climbing and I gained 4500 feet of elevation in that time. I wasn’t sure how it would go since I hadn’t done the road route since before Kilimanjaro. I’m pleased to report it went well and I feel a nice boost of confidence as a result. Thanks to all who helped out yesterday.

The to do list is still long–but I will chew away at it step by step like anything else. I hope to have a reasonably relaxed week clueing up life here, training some, packing, saying good-byes, and mentally preparing for the challenges of Pumori. I’ll send out one more weekly update before heading out. I’ll be audio blogging to my website as well the myeverest site. I hope you’ll continue to follow along when I’m on the mountain. I’ll count on your support to push up up from behind.

Have a good week,

TA

Click here to donate to Pumori: Climb for Awareness or click here for a downloadable form.

Pumori in Pink

Howdy,

Two weeks and counting. I finally gave in and made a “to-do” list because the details were starting to pile up in numbers greater than seven (the average number of things we can hold in short term memory).

There is now gear piled up on my couch. That’s a sure sign that a climb is near. The sorting and choosing has begun as well as the “gear choice” anxiety that tries to convince me that there is only one right choice and making that right choice will ensure that I am safe, warm, and dry always (ha ha). I’m aiming to go as light as possible because that keeps life simpler (and helps meet the new baggage restrictions).

Whenever I take my socks off these days, I am instantly startled. My toenails are shockingly pink. On Wednesday I paid a visit to the Director of Human Resources at Memorial and she gave the first donation towards “Pink Outside the Box.” She provided me with a stunning pair of pink flip flops complete with pink daisies and then proceeded to paint my toenails to match. Another woman in the office put on “top-coat” (who knew there was something called top-coat?) to help keep the polish job looking sharp. My feet don’t look like mine.

Tonight I am kicking off the week by wearing bright pink hockey socks to my game. Tomorrow might just be the day for the set of pink fairy wings that someone dropped off. Who knows what might be in the pink tickle-trunk by Friday…I’m a bit nervous to say the least. There were a few media stories about “Pink Week” as I call it amongst friends: click here and here to see them. I was a bit worried about how the one picture would turn out because the photographer kept saying, “Now give me that crazy look again.”

If you’d like to get in on the pink action, click here to donate or visit my website for a downloadable form and then email me to let me know what you want me to wear. I’m game for nearly anything. I’ll try to get daily updates from Paula Tessier to see how close we’re getting to the week’s goal of halfway up the mountain and pink hair (I know several of you out there are eager for that to happen). My dad’s cousin sent in a donation with the request that I carry a pink rattle and soother since I carried those the last time they saw me dressed in pink!!! Thanks to all who’ve donated thus far and to those that will jump aboard this week for Pink Outside the Box.

I also have a limited number of Pumori: Climb for Awareness toques for sale with all net proceeds also going to the Canadian Breast Cancer Foundation. They are $15. Drop me a line if you are interested.

The first few days back at training after the rest week were tough but I felt the increased strength from the rest almost immediately. It’s easy at this point to second-guess my training approach as pre-trip anxiety arises but I know I was feeling strong on Kili and I’m even stronger now. So here’s hoping and here’s blessing my immune system. As usual, one of the toughest things about a climb in Nepal is staying healthy throughout the trek and climb.

For those in St. John’s, I’m hoping to do a multi-ascent training session on Signal Hill next Saturday or Sunday, if you could spare an hour to drive downhill, please drop me a line with when you are available. Depending on the number of folks who volunteer, I’m hoping it will be less than an hour per person and you could even do it in my car!

This is going to be a very big week. I look forward to it with all the magical and fun and embarrassing moments that will come from dressing absurdly in public. When you see me, try not to laugh too loud. Have a good week and check my website and Facebook page often for picture updates from the week!

Yours in pink,

TA

French Pastries

Happy Back to School to All,

Sorry this update is late, I actually took a vacation. I think it is first period of time in several years I labeled as “vacation.” I spoke at a high school in Grand Bank and then headed over to the French island of St. Pierre to eat French bread and pastries (as well as rest and hike). After a few days of carbohydrate loading, I spent some time exploring the Burin Peninsula by kayak. I loved being out on the salt water once again and even managed to flip my boat while playing in a rock garden. The good news was that my new dry suit works very well and other than a bruised ego, all was okay ☺.

I leave for Pumori in three short weeks. I received the expedition list from Tim Rippel (the expedition leader) and the team covers four continents. There are 15 climbers on two teams hailing from Canada, US, United Kingdom, Australia, Thailand, and Jordan. We’re joined by two guides (Tim Rippel from Canada and Hugo Searle from the US/Wales) and ten Sherpa climbers/staff from Nepal. Having more trip details makes it all seem much more real and exciting. I tried out my new base camp tent on the Burin and I think it will make a fine mountain home.

I have two more weeks of hard training and will then taper off for the two weeks before the climb begins. Much of the next while will be spent packing, repacking, making what gets to go and what stays behind decisions. I have a few presentations and other projects to keep me busy and out of trouble.

The countdown to “Pink Outside the Box” is on! Rumour has it that a pair of pink wings has been found as well as a pair of pink pumps. If you plan on getting me a pink item to wear for next week, please drop me an email so I can make an arrangement to pick it up and get it into the queue for wearing! For each contribution of $20 to the Canadian Breast Cancer Foundation-Atlantic, you can have me wear any item of pink clothing or accessory. I will go about my regular week wearing the various items and am somewhat nervous (okay, terrified) of what my wardrobe for next week will entail.

I got an update from Paula Tessier and we’re almost 10 percent of the way towards our fundraising goal of one dollar per metre of Pumori. I’m hoping “Pink Outside the Box,” gets us much further up the mountain. Remember that I’ve promised to dye my hair pink if we reach the halfway mark of the fundraising goal by the end of next week.

Speaking of climbing the mountain, Tim sent out a picture of Pumori with the route highlighted on it. It’s an amazing ridge-based route that promises some great views of Everest and the whole Khumbu valley. Check out the red line on the photo. We’ll place an Advanced Base Camp and then two camps on the mountain before the summit attempt. I will be clogging from the mountain so you’ll be able to follow along every step of the way on my website.

Time to head out to step class and drop lots of salt water on the floor. Thanks for your support and do find me some pink to wear!

With gratitude,

TA

Blue Helmeted Super Hero

Happy Labour Day Weekend,

A few weeks back I bought a new motorcycle helmet at a Regatta Day Door Crasher sale. It is bright blue with gold trim. I could have chosen the more sedate forest green one with the same gold trim but decided one goal of motorcycle protective gear is to be visible so I went with the one that matched Blue Raspberry Gatorade. When I placed the helmet on my head, I could feel a transformation of sorts, an embracing of my inner super hero and began to joke with a friend about being a “Blue-Helmeted Super Hero.” (BHSH)

I mentioned this transformation one day to Diane of WOKie fame and she volunteered to lend me her bright blue lycra ski suit to complete my super hero outfit. A few days later she dropped the shiny blue mound of fabric into my car. I’d planned to make my appearance as a BHSH the next time we got together but the red phone in my lair did not ring so I forget to become the BHSH.

Diane went on vacation. A few more weeks went by. This week she was returned to the hiking fold (which was good because I’d been taking it a bit easier without Diane’s blistering pace setting). I knew Thursday was the morning. I put the suit by the door along with my helmet, the night before to prevent forgetfulness. The alarm rang and I popped out of bed eager to assume my new identity (and see the faces of the WOKies as I walked up). I worried that a ski suit designed for winter temps might be a tad bit warm so I first donned a technical t-shirt and nylon shorts, pulled on the suit, tied my boots, hauled on my big pack, draped my cape over the pack and fastened it with a carabiner, and pulled my helmet on! Voila! I was a super hero (or at least I thought I looked like one).

I walked out of the house and towards Signal Hill. Drivers slowed and stared. Pedestrians crossed to the other side of the street as I strode confidently towards them. It was 6:25 am and I had people to meet. Diane drove by me but didn’t slow. She turned the corner, parked, and hopped out–grabbing Wanda to drag her around the corner to point as what was coming their way. Natelle looked at me with incredulous eyes and Marian’s dog, Anya barked as if I were a knife wielding thug. After their initial shock wore off, they all began to laugh and talk excitedly. We snapped a few photos and off we went.

The suit was instantly hot, the moment I started hauling the monster pack up the first set of stairs but I was committed (for some reason) to make it out to the point before finding a phone booth. We stopped several times to “capture the moment” and continuously chuckled at the ridiculousness of my attire. Finally, when heat stroke was about to set it, I stripped of the blue power suit and rejoined with my regular self. We completed the rest of the training hike and I came home and downloaded the pictures.

One thing I learned is that lycra doesn’t lie. With its wonderful clingy elasticity, nothing is hidden and I was startled (even though I was there) that I’d gone out into the world in such an exposed condition. Despite the revealing nature of some of them, I liked a few of the photos and chose to them to Facebook. I loved the response they generated. Several people wrote to say they needed a laugh that morning and the photos had provided. Click here to see the morning’s photographic collection.

It reminded me of the week I spent in “Ring of Fire” training for Denali where I had to wear dresses for a week. That took me so far out of my comfort zone that I almost turned inside out. I figure my upcoming “Pink Outside the Box” campaign has the same potential for enormous challenge and discomfort!

I hear some folks are plotting to find me some pink lycra, a pink tutu, and frilly pink socks–now there’s a hiking outfit. If you missed it last week, during the week of September 15-19, you can provide me with a pink item of clothing, shoes, or accessories and for a $20 donation to the Canadian Breast Cancer Foundation-Atlantic (CBCF), I’ll wear it during the course of a normal workweek. A reminder that if donations to the CBCF reach the halfway mark before or during that week, I will dye my hair pink! Click here to make a donation to the CBCF and secure your spot as a sponsor of Pink Outside the Box.

We all have worlds and spaces in which we are very comfortable. I think its important every once in awhile to get outside those zones to get a fresh look at our selves and at possibilities we might be inadvertently setting aside. It is often said that the greatest rewards come from the greatest risks. I think it’s important to practice taking risks, both small and large. Going out into the world dressed as a BHSH was a small risk for me. Wearing pink for a week is a pretty big risk for me. Using a telephone to call a potential sponsor is a huge risk for me while dancing on the edge of a rock cliff is a piece of cake for me.

What’s risky to me might be a cakewalk to you and vice versa. We’re all individual is what we find risky and how we navigate the feelings that come up when we risk. I know that when I think of breast cancer, I know I have several known risks–many of which I can do nothing about and some I can. As we live our lives, we face many risks and some days we can notice them directly and other days, we have to deny them in order to get though our days.

As we round the corner of this last long weekend of summer, I notice that I am beginning to notice feelings of fear and nervousness crop up in my belly. I have some fear of Pumori, of the mountain, of avalanches, rockfalls, altitude, cold, falling, and loneliness. That fear is a gift. The fear provides me a gauntlet that I need to pass-I need to continuously choose and rechoose to go towards the mountain and the risk it sets out. The fear also reminds me to be disciplined in training for the mountain and to be diligent in risk management practice while on the mountain. Without fear, there would be no caution. We need both risk and caution and we need to find the middle way between them, for I believe to risk too little is as dangerous as risking too much.

Thanks for coming along on this most amazing journey. Everest’s Daughter is teaching me so much before I even reach her flanks. It is a great honour to be supporting the work of the CBCF through this climb and I ask that you support it as well if you are able. The Canadian Breast Cancer Foundation is a national organization dedicated to creating a future without breast cancer. It was started in 1986 and works to fund and support innovative research, education and awareness programs, early diagnosis and effective treatment, and a positive quality of life for those living with breast cancer.

Have a good week,

TA

Pink Outside the Box

Greetings from Another Gorgeous Day,

I continue to be amazed at how weeks seem to be flying by at light speed. I had a good week of training with my adjusted program. I enjoyed having 15 different varieties of push-ups on the menu and how each one worked my body in different ways. Pack weights went up again for both indoor and outdoor training. I trained with Phil for the first time since I returned from Kili and loved how he challenges me to push harder.

We were outside for the first time doing a combination drill that included agility footwork, throwing medicine balls, and kicking soccer balls. I was having a bit of a tough time with some wheezing so I’ll pay a visit to my doc this week to seek her advice on that-it may have been that the pollen count was high in the field or maybe third week fatigue or maybe I didn’t warm-up enough.

I’m nearing the end of my hypoxia protocol which is a first-I was able to start the program enough weeks out that I’ll get through the whole ten weeks. I’m working my steady state session at 10% oxygen now, the equivalent of 6000 metres of altitude. I hope to get down to 9% before I go but as usual, I’ve started to have some mask phobia and it becomes a mental workout just to use the equipment. I’ve been using mountaineering DVD’s to help push through that barrier-having the computer to pay attention to distracts from the sensation of wanting to rip the mask off. From past experience, I know this comes up for me after about 9 weeks of training and if I can stay with it, it passes.

I leave in five weeks from tomorrow and I’m split in thinking that there’s lots of time and departure will be here before I know it. I’m tempted to start laying out gear and making piles and lists. My excitement for the climb is growing but at the same time, feelings of doubt sometimes crawl into the weft of my thoughts. I notice them and try to set them aside. I know I’ll be missing the WOKies big time as I head off on this adventure needing to create the team and community on arrival. I knew the WOKies had spoiled me and I look forward to future adventures with them (and others).

I met with Paula Tessier again this week to put our heads together about the fundraising aspect of the climb. After some yummy dessert, we came up with something that I will be really fun (and terrifying). I’m going to let you know earlier than the public announcement so you can start combing your closets and tickle trunks!

I hate pink. I really do. It’s never been a colour that has appealed to me. I don’t own one thing that is pink. Pink is a colour that sends shivers down my spine and the thought of dressing in pink is almost enough to send me screaming from the room.

So, when thinking about what I might do to entice people to donate to my Pumori: Climb for Awareness, in support of the Canadian Breast Cancer Foundation-Atlantic Region, the colour pink naturally came to mind. Pink symbolizes the fight against breast cancer and thus leads me to a very large challenge. For the week of September 15-19, I will subject myself to “Pink Outside the Box.”

For these five long days, I will dress in any pink items that supporters who donate $20 provide. For each donation of $20, I will don one item. A pink dress. $20. A string of pink pearls. $20. Pink shoes. $20. Pink boa $20. Pink hockey jersey. $20. Pink training tights. $20. Pink ribbons $20.

My chest tightens as I consider the possibilities of training, teaching, and going about my week dressed in donated pink items. However, if total donations to the climb reach the $3581 (halfway to the goal) during that week, my “Pinking Outside the Box” will not stop at clothing. If this level of donations is reached, I will dye my hair pink! One hundred percent of the money raised through “Pink Outside the Box” and Pumori: Climb for Awareness climb go directly to the Canadian Breast Cancer Foundation-Atlantic Region (i.e. none of it will go towards the costs of the climb).

I’ll keep you posted on the logistics of getting items to me. I plan to post daily pictures of each’s day’s pink outfit to my website and am hoping to generate some media interest in both Pink Outside the Box and the climb.

I’m off to train…have a good week. Thanks for your support.

TA

PS. To donate online, click here. For a downloadable form to fax or mail, click here.

The Big O Mountain

Happy Summer Olympics to All,

I haven’t had a chance to watch much of the Olympics as I don’t have a TV capable or receiving a signal but I’ve been following them some on the Internet. It is an intense time in world sport watching, to quote the tagline line of “Wide World of Sports” the sports show I was raised on, “The Thrill of Victory, The Agony of Defeat.” I remember being a young girl glued to the television on Saturday afternoon dreaming of being an athlete on the world’s stage. Through such shows, I came to understand how much athletes sacrifice when they train and compete at such levels.

When I first training for Denali, I remember equating that journey with the Olympics. I said, “This is my Olympics,” as I knew most likely I would never reach the games as an athlete. (I did learn to race a luge in advance of the Calgary games and have thought about trying to play for the German women’s hockey team.) Like Olympic athletes, many mountaineers train hard, make many sacrifices in their daily lives, and spend many a mountain of money in pursuit of elusive and uncertain goals. Standing atop any mountain requires that training, weather, snow conditions, health, intense effort, and some luck all come together in the right moment. I think the same can be said of a trip to the podium in Beijing. Though the Games bring questions of politics, human rights, and cheating to the fore, they also remind me of the indomitable human spirit and the power of striving for dreams.

I had a great week in training. I went into the week tired from a weekend of hockey camp but pushed through that fatigue to get in three strength/power sessions, a few step classes, more hypoxia training and two fabulous training hikes. I’ve moved my pack weight up to 45 pounds for both indoor and outdoor training. My legs are doing fine with it and my lungs are working hard to catch up to the new demands. I’ve wrapped up my training with the six-week program of onehundredpushups.com. I moved myself from 60 to 200 pushups and have appreciated the increased upper body strength. I will now move back down to 100 and incorporate a whole variety of pushup techniques (diamond, vertical, on the medicine ball, off a therapy ball, etc). I have about four more weeks of intense training before beginning to taper for the mountain. Kilimanjaro taught me the value of going to the mountain rested and relaxed so I’m committed to putting that lesson into place.

There are other clues that the climb is getting closer. I placed a big order with Mountain Equipment Co-op for the gear I need for Pumori. I’ll have a new base camp tent to call home. A brighter headlamp to replace the one that was stolen and some new climbing slings also made the shopping list. I will begin soon to select out the gear that makes the cut and gets to go on the climb. I often use my living room as a staging centre for expedition preparations. The couch is a great organizer for clothes and the mantle for small supplies. Just like Santa Claus’ list, mine will be checked at least twice if not three times.

Thanks to all who made contributions to the climb this week. I’m meeting with Paula tomorrow to get the first update on how the fundraising is going. The downloadable form should be on my website this week and there is also now a “Donate Now” button on the sidebar that takes you directly to the donation page. The money goes directly to the Canadian Breast Cancer Foundation, none of it goes towards climb expenses. Please pass on word of the climb to anyone who you think might be interested. Click here to donate to the climb.

About a month ago, I was asked by a national speaking bureau for some video of one of my presentations. I hadn’t had any time to even think about producing such materials but I happened to have had a presentation that night. I packed my video camera to take with and hoped I could find someone to run it. Unfortunately, the thing was out of battery power and my digital voice recorder was in the same state. I had to tell the Lavin folks that I couldn’t produce and they said they had to move forward on their timeline and couldn’t wait. After I handed in my grades for the semester, I set to work to edit a few pieces so I wouldn’t miss another invitation like that one. Some of these speaking vignettes are now up on my website, my Facebook Pumori group, and YouTube if you’d like to see me in action (and see my summer shearing).

Thanks for all of your encouraging words. They move me to train harder and I appreciate having your support. Have a good week.

TA

Of Avalanches and Mammograms

Happy Regatta Day,

Another week has sped by leaving me one week closer to Pumori: Climb for Awareness. Time always seems to speed up when I’m training because so much has to fit into each day. I lost two training days to a tooth extraction; the first because they recommend no intense physical activity to prevent excessive blood loss and the second because I didn’t quite feel up to training the second day post tooth loss.

So yes, after a month of fighting the good fight with varieties of antibiotics, my endodontist and I agreed that it was time to say enough was enough. Just as a mountaineer needs to know when to turn her or his back on the summit, we had to make the decision to sacrifice the tooth for my overall health. We’re hoping with the tooth gone, the infection that has been simmering near my jawbone can finally be healed. Thanks to all who cheered me on and up over the course of the last month of intense dental challenges.

It was also time for my annual mammogram. Since my mom’s diagnosis, I have been on annual mammograms even though I haven’t reached the usual age for that frequency of screening. No one likes to go through this boob squishing procedure but I’d like to encourage everyone who is of screening age or circumstance to get screened. I had a wonderful technician whose daughter had heard me speak last summer so we had a grand chat about mountaineering during the whole thing. I exchanged moments of discomfort for months of comfort in knowing that I’ve done my yearly mammography duty.

I liken having a mammogram to digging an avalanche pit on a mountain. When we are forced to traverse mountain terrain having the slope and aspect to create avalanche danger, we must pay close attention to the risk factors. We stop in a safe spot and dig a hole in the snow so we can examine the snow layers to judge how solid they are and how likely they are to slide. We perform various tests to see how the snow shears and what the snow crystals look like. Like a mammogram, it’s a drag to interrupt what we’re doing to dig the pit and face the risk squarely head on, but it gives us the information we need to continue. We may be able to remain on the same path, we may have to change routes, or we may have to retreat and come back some other day to climb.

To proceed in avalanche territory without the proper safety equipment, training, and testing, is foolhardy and will often end in tragedy. I think the same can be said about going through life without proper breast screening. Please walk through your fear and discomfort to get to know your breasts, to do monthly self-exams, and to get an annual mammogram if recommended by your doctor. Don’t let avalanches of doubt, fear, or shame get in your way. You can do it! For more information on breast cancer screening, here are two websites I found helpful:

Rethink Breast Cancer

Canadian Breast Cancer Foundation

I did another conference presentation this week to a group of agriculture educators from across Canada. I entitled my talk, “Growing Dreams,” and I enjoyed customizing my message to reflect the theme of their conference. I combed through my photographic images of Nepal and Tibet to find images of farming and animal husbandry.

When I biked the 1200 kilometres from Lkaha to Kathmandu during the fall of 2005, much of our route took us through harvest time on the Tibetan plateau. I shared the road with conveyances of all sorts including horse draw carts, frequently had to stop for cow and yak crossings, and at one point rode uphill for 38 kilometres before reaching the summit of Gyatso La Pass. It was on that trip, standing in Everest base camp on the Tibet side, that I wanted to climb Mount Everest. I wasn’t terrified about the climb at that point but rather, the fundraising. I had no idea how as a shy, phone-phobic, relatively private person, I was going to raise the $60,000 I needed to climb Mount Everest.

In the end, I raised half that amount using the only method I knew to use, grassroots fundraising. I sold toques and t-shirts, held speaking events, and reached out to kids. At some point, it got too hard to say to the children, “If the money comes, I’ll climb Everest” and made the decision that I would mortgage my house to make it happen. With that decision made, I could say to the kids, “When I climb Everest…” and that felt much better and worth the risk of taking on the big debt. With this week’s conference, I’ve now officially retired the expedition debt and can now think about beginning to raise funds for a second attempt.

Before turning my attention to that though, I am fully committed to my Pumori climb and the fundraising goal I’ve set for it. When I met Paula Tessier for coffee to discuss the possibility of fundraising for the Canadian Breast Cancer Foundation, she pointed out my personal growth over the past three years.

“TA,” she said. “Do you realize that three years ago you were terrified of fundraising and now you are offering to fundraise for a cause without any personal benefit?”

I hadn’t really thought of it that way and thanked her for reflecting that growth back to me. Fundraising still scares me and I wish I felt more confident in doing it but as always, I just keep putting one foot in front of another and make the path by walking it. The downloadable form for donations should be on my website soon and the online link is now live. Thanks for your support on so many levels. I am so grateful to have you along on this and many other adventures.

Have a great week,

TA


Online donation to Pumori: Climb for Awareness can be made by clicking here.

Adventures Big and Small

August Greetings,

Just back in town after four wonderful days adventuring with my students on the Avalon Peninsula, a truly magical place. As I sorted through the pile of emails that came in while I was gone, I was excited to see one from Paula Tessier. Paula and I have played hockey together for years and she is the staff member for the Canadian Breast Cancer Foundation-Atlantic Office in Newfoundland. She is my liaison with the organization and she wrote to say the on-line link for donations to the climb was ready.

Click here to donate to Pumori: Climb for Awareness online via a credit card.

For those who would prefer to use the mail, please visit my website for a downloadable form that you can fill out and mail in with your contribution. In either cases, your donation goes directly and entirely to the Canadian Breast Cancer Foundation-Atlantic Office to fund their excellent work towards a future without breast cancer.

Thank you in advance for your support–it will fuel my training over the next two months and will help power me up the mountain. The past week was a rest week. I enjoyed having some extra time to catch my breath and be away from the structure of my training life. I head into the next four-week training cycle tomorrow and know I will be challenged both physically and mentally by its demands.

My week was filled with adventures big and small, some new, some familiar, some outdoors, some with friends. I found this two quotes which rung true for me this week.

One cannot discover new oceans unless one has the courage to lose sight of the shore.
–Andre Gide

A true friend freely, advises justly, assists readily, adventures boldly, takes all patiently, defends courageously, and continues a friend unchangeably.
–William Penn

As I share the outdoors with friends, students, and teammates, new connections are forged. These connections are tempered through hard work, magical moments, and time shared in communion with trees, clouds, oceans, peaks, and stars. My life has been blessed with so many friendships that were kindled around a campfire or sunset. I’ve enjoyed watching my students this summer experience the same blossoming of connection as they hiked, climbed, canoed, kayaked, and backpacked together. This was the crescendo week for the course where their skills and group dynamic were tested over and over again.

On Wednesday, we headed down to Burnt Cove to sea kayak and were greeted right off the beach by a pair of humpbacks. They are truly magnificent and they swam within 20 feet of us as we bobbed in the swell. I have two students from Germany and one from Ontario. I was thrilled for them to have a “close encounter” with our most famous summer visitors. We did lose sight of the shore a few times as we paddled around the islands off Burnt Cove. I had a most unique view on the day. A view spent looking backward through the day.

Through a bit of a miscommunication, there was one less boat cockpit than we needed. Jim tried to find another boat for borrow for the paddle but was unsuccessful. Not wanting anyone to have to spend time on the beach, we looked for other options. Jim has a large double in his fleet so we looked to the middle hatch. The two by two hatch proved too small for anyone but the most accomplished yogis (of which we had none in our group) so that option was ruled out. Both Jim and I spied the rear hatch at the same moment. Narrower but longer, I squeezed myself in and knew we had a workable (yet unusual situation).

As Jim shoved our “triple” off the beach and we wobbled insecurely in the mild waves, I knew I was in for quite the day. With no seat, I sat directly on the boat bottom and could feel every splash on the boat’s hull. I had a commanding view of the beach from where we had just departed but no ability to look forward towards where we were headed. A metaphor bubbled immediately into mind and I commented that I would be in a reflective state much of the day looking back.

I had no paddle, no ability to change the course of the boat, I was truly “along for the ride.” I surrendered to my fate and looked to enjoy my powerless position. I found it excellent for photography when we managed to pull up to the group. We frequently found ourselves behind as my poor paddling companions had to drag me everywhere they went. As we rounded one island heading for some caves, the sea became much more confused and the bile of fear rose in my belly. Again, there was nothing I could do but trust my paddlers and sit with the fear. As there was no place to run and no way to get out of the situation, I just had to stay with the feeling and work with my mind.

After much of the group had a touch of seasickness from the wonky seas, I realized I was the perfect person in the group to be sitting in the “trunk.” I almost never get motion sickness, I’ve had enough time in sea kayaks to be able to understand that it was unlikely we would actually flip over, and I could deal with the adventure of looking in a different direction than everyone else. I appreciated the opportunity to surrender and give over control and experience the adventure of sea kayaking in a unique way.

Thursday we headed out into the rain for a backpacking trip into Brock’s Head Pond. The trail was slick and each step was an adventure in itself trying to stay upright with heavy loads on our backs. As I often say, we all have our own Everests and they can be big or small. Carrying a loaded bag isn’t much of an adventure for me anymore but for these first timers, it was huge. The smiles on their faces when we arrived in camp bespoke the pride they felt in their accomplishment. I’m cognizant of celebrating those kinds of moments whenever they occur.

Friday, we embarked on the adventure of cinnamon roll baking. It’s one of the favourite things I teach since it opens new doors (and menus) for the outdoors and it’s so empowering for students to gain a strong skill set with the stoves. Since playing with flammable liquids is generally discouraged in life, students arrive with a healthy fear of the camp stoves. I see it as my job to instill confidence, knowledge, and skill in using these devices that can be quite dangerous (second only to driving in terms of likelihood on injury in the outdoors). Whenever I teach a baking class, I feel like I am an orchestra conductor trying to reign into thinly veiled chaos. Having each group moving through the process in their own time, venting stoves, and lighting twiggy fires in close proximity brings me to the edge of my teaching practice and I spend the class in close focus and engagement.

Despite the soggy woods, the students manage to get small fires build on top of their baking pans (which are sitting atop their stoves) and the prospects for well-baked rolls are looking very good. The required baking time passes and I eagerly await the unveiling. The lids of the frybakes are pried off and golden brown delights are revealed. Wahoo! A peak. A summit. Everything has come together and the students and I squeal in the delight of a baking adventure. We snap many pictures and enjoy a delicious breakfast.

Yesterday, I turn over the hike out to the students. They lead the way, set the pace, call the breaks, and bring us back to civilization. It is the culmination of our time together and the next step in their evolution as outdoor adventurers. I step back and become the leader that is scarcely heard or seen. I hang back and learn to ID mushrooms from my co-leader and am once again, “along for the ride,” though paying attention for the moments where I need to come forward to manage a risk or provide a gentle direction.

Indeed, as I write this reflection on my week, I see that my life is a series of adventures. Some personal. Some physical. Some with others. Some inside my own head. My hope is to take what I learn from one adventure into the next. And with that, I’ll close for now and get off my chair and go have “a time” doing the dishes or sorting out where the leak in my backroom is coming from.

Have a good week and thanks for your support of Pumori: A Climb for Awareness. I’m glad the link is available since so many of you have been asking for it. Thanks as well to those who pulled up their keyboards for a spot of tea–I enjoyed hearing from you.

With gratitude,

TA

A Cup of Tea

Howdy,

Thanks to all who replied with such enthusiasm and support for the Pumori climb. I was touched deeply when you shared stories of people you knew who have walked the breast cancer path. I kept their names close in my mind as I did each push-up, walking lunge, and abdominal crunch this week. Thanks as well to those who have already pledged donations. The Canadian Breast Cancer Foundation Atlantic office is hard at work designing downloadable pledge forms and an on-line donation option to make contributing to Pumori: Climb for Awareness quick and easy.

The week passed quickly given my teaching and training schedule. It was my fourth week of training for Pumori and I noticed some changes in my body. My hockey shot is harder and wilder (evidence of gaining strength), the head of my quad muscles are taking a new form (evidence that walking lunges and step classes are tasking my legs in the right way), and my appetite is increasing (evidence that I’m training hard). I read a book this week where the author differentiated between training and exercise. He said training was more intent and purpose-filled. I know it’s true for me. When I am training and I can hold the vision of what I am training for in my mind, I push a little harder or run a little faster.

People in the field house have begun to stop and ask me, “What are you training for?” I guess it shows…either that, or no one in her right mind would choose to do burpees for fun. You may have experienced burpees in physical education class–basically, you start standing, bend over and put your hands on the floor and kick your feet out to push-up position, then bring the feet back towards the hands and spring up into a jump. Repeat. Repeat. Repeat. I have no idea why they are called burpees (as no one would ever even consider eating before doing them). They leave me winded after a few, and gasping for air after fifteen. Over the past four weeks, I’ve worked my way from six at one go to sixteen and from a total of twenty to eighty-five.

I’m using a very simple strength-training plan these days. I’m basing it on the website: hundredpushups.com. Three times per week, after skipping for ten minutes, I consult the chart and do the requisite number of push-ups it calls for. I added burpees, walking lunges, and abdominal crunches to the mix and after an hour of all this, I’m soaked in sweat having made another deposit in the training bank. Training in the summer means lots of sweat so I got my hair cut very short to promote heat loss and easy drying. I refer to my new hairdo as “my summer shearing.”

For cardio training, I’m running, going to step class with a pack, biking, and hauling a large pack up and down the hills surrounding St. John’s. I’m grateful to WOKies Diane and Marian for keeping me company (and pushing me to climb faster and sweat harder). I’m also using the Go2Altitude system again for both training and pre-acclimatization. I’ve often loved the saying that “Saltwater cures everything: sweat, tears, and the sea.”

These days I feel like I’m getting plenty of the first and last. I’ve been out in my sea kayak and hiking near the sea several times a week. Unfortunately, all the sweat hasn’t cured my dental/jaw infection. I’m on my fourth course of Clindamycin and we added Flagyl to the mix this week as well. I spoke at a conference for public health inspectors this week. They were the first audience that could identify the slide of Giardia that I show. Several of them came up to me and encouraged me to get tested to make sure I wasn’t a latent carrier so when the dentist offered Flagyl I accepted since it is also a treatment for Giardia. I bless my intestinal flora every time I send a pill down the hatch and am eating yogurt like it is going out of style.

I ran the Tely Ten this morning to support my hockey teammate, Tara, reach her mountainous goal of completing the ten-mile race. I’ve been offering training suggestions for several months and WOKie Wanda joined us for the race. We told stories of Kilimanjaro and I pointed out every motorcycle shop on the route (I had done my second road lesson the day before and had visited two shops in search of learning more about buying a bike). Sometimes, in order to get over a physical/mental hurdle, all is takes a bit of distraction.

I remember summit morning being called the front of the climbing line on Kili. “TA, we need you up here,” was urgently called out. “Oh no!” I thought and beat it breathlessly up the hill. When I got near the front, the group said, “We need twenty questions.” I sighed in relief that nothing serious was wrong and proceeded to lead a game to distract the group from the pain of the climb. This morning I was telling Tara the story of summit day/night on Kili and when I stopped for a second and she said, “You can’t stop there-keep telling the story.” Sometimes we all need someone who can tell us a story to get us over a hard spot on the mountain, in a race, or when going through medical treatment. Congrats to Tara on finishing the Tely Ten!

I remember when my friend Deb was going through breast cancer chemo. I made a point to get to every treatment and tried to find a fun card to bring along to lighten the mood. I would come and tell stories and listen and, though hating the reason we were there, came to see what a wonderful gift it was to me to support someone else. It important sometimes to enable and accept the generosity of others, to allowed ourselves to be cared for, and then to extend that care and support to others along the way.

That is why I am so grateful to have you in my cyber community of support for this climb. As I sit down each week to write to you, I imagine sitting across the table from you sharing a cup of tea and stories of our week. People often think I am inundated with responses to these updates but generally only a few folks each week drop by my in-box with words of encouragement or to let me know what’s on the go for them. So don’t be afraid to pull up a keyboard and have a “cup of tea.”

I hope to have the logistics lined out by next update to let you know how to send your support for the Pumori climb. Until then, have a wonderful week and take care,

TA

Pumori: Climb for Awareness

Pumori: Climb For Awareness

Every October since my mom, Denise, was diagnosed with breast cancer, I have run the Race for the Cure in her honour. I vividly remember the first time I wrote her name on my race bib. I was just learning to run and I wasn’t sure I could do the entire five kilometers. During the race, there were times I could hardly breathe as I was overcome with so much emotion. After the race, I sent that race bib off to my mom with a note expressing my love and hopes for her recovery.

As each year passed since then, I felt both sadness and anger as the list of names I added to my race bib grew. It seemed as though every month I was hearing of a friend or family member that was affected by breast cancer. I’m going to miss this year’s race. Instead of running shoes and T-shirt, I will be donning climbing boots and soft-shell jacket. Instead of writing my mom’s name on my race bib, I will write it on my ice ax. Instead of running around Quidi Vidi Lake with thousands of others close to home, I will be the only woman on an expedition climbing Mount Pumori thousands of kilometers away in Nepal.

The name, Pumori, is translated as Everest’s daughter. It is a 7161-metre peak that sits across the valley from Mount Everest. I am dedicating this climb to my mother, a breast cancer survivor, and to all who have also had to make the mountainous journey through breast cancer. By honouring those who’ve faced breast cancer, I hope to heighten awareness of breast cancer prevention, screening, and early detection.

I know I lead a healthy lifestyle and get plenty of exercise, but I have many risk factors for breast cancer. I started menstruating early, I have never been pregnant, and my mom had breast cancer. Sometimes I think, “It’s not if I get breast cancer, but when?” With this climb, I intend to raise funds for the Canadian Breast Cancer Foundation – Atlantic Region because they are committed to creating a future free of breast cancer through awareness and research. I have set a fundraising goal of one dollar per metre of the peak.

It is tradition on climbs in Nepal to fly prayer flags over base camp. These colorful flags have prayers printed on them and are blessed by a Lama during a ceremony before the climb. For each donation of $20, a prayer flag will be dedicated and flown over base camp for the duration of the expedition. One hundred percent of the money raised through the climb will go directly to the foundation (i.e. none of it will go towards the costs of the climb).

By climbing Everest’s daughter, I hope to contribute to a future for all children that is free from the suffering caused by breast cancer. With each step in training and each step up the mountain, I will keep both the mountain and the larger cause for which I am climbing in mind. I will remember my mother’s strength and courage in facing her treatment and draw upon that during the inevitable moments of doubt and discouragement as I attempt to become the first Canadian woman to summit Pumori.

I look forward to having you along in the upcoming months of training and on the climb. Your support helps me reach new heights in many aspects of my life.

TA