I’ve been working my way across Canada, on the Great Canadian Crossing challenge.  This is meant to be a year long venture, or at least the challenge is open for a full year.  The idea is to ‘travel’ across Canada in one year.  Participants choose between running, walking or riding across the province(s), territory or territories of their choice or across the entire 4800km country.  There is also a multi-sport category where all self-propelled motions are viable; ski, swim, hike, bike, run, walk, snowshoe and more!  All categories are multi-age, so there is no separation between male and female, old or young.  You just need to have a bit of a warped sense of ‘fun’.

I chose the run/ride combination.  In reality, I should have just chosen bike.  I am endlessly optimistic that I’ll be running by the end of the year, even though I have absolutely no evidence to support my theory!  So, for now, I’ve been biking.  Even though I have a year to complete this challenge, and even though it is not a race and is based on participation only, there does happen to be a leader board where our progress is tracked.  It’s impossible not to want to take a peek to see how I stack up against others in my category.

Before it started, I had several ideas about how I’d approach this.  I knew I wanted to complete it all outside, on real roads and pathways.  There is nothing stopping a person from logging miles on their indoor trainer or stationary bike.  However, when I have imagined myself riding across Canada for real, it’s always outside.  For that reason, my first decision was to make sure I could cover the entire distance when I could be outdoors, meaning the kilometres would have to be covered this summer, early in the fall before the snow flies, or next spring.

If I had managed to stick to this idea, my daily mileage would have been very manageable.  As it turns out, once I got outside that first day, I knew I wanted to complete it this summer.  If Covid has taught me nothing else, it has certainly reminded me to not take for granted that opportunities will always be available to us at the timing of our choice.  My choice then became, did I want to do eighty days of 60km, or sixty days of 80km.

Alas, I chose to do about 80km that first day, and the dye was cast.  I knew there would be many cyclists who are stronger than me, and who can log many more miles at a time, but I figured my secret weapon of consistency might come in handy.  So here I find myself, three weeks in, part way across Manitoba, with very tired legs, but determined to set the alarm clock again tomorrow morning.

I love to ride early in the morning.  I love being outside before the whole world wakes up.  I love the lighting, the sightings of wildlife and the peacefulness. This is when I do my best thinking.  One morning about a week ago, I was riding in our local provincial park.  I ride here often; there are hundreds of kilometres of paved paths, and it’s a safe place, away from traffic and busy streets.  One of my loops takes me to a little park within the park, where there is a pond.  On that particular morning, a hot air balloon was taking a flight over the city and it happened to be in full view as I reached the pond.  I couldn’t help myself from stopping to take a picture.

The balloon, backdropped against a perfect Alberta blue sky, was perfectly reflected in the glass-like water of the pond.  If I had stood on my head, or later turned the photo upside down, it would have been hard to figure out which way was the true right-side-up.  As I rode along that morning, and on mornings since then, I’ve begun to think about my own refection.  Would I, I wonder, have such a true reflection?  When I see myself reflected back to me, based on what others experience when they are with me or when they observe me, am I sending out an accurate ‘picture’?  I want my reflection to be as true as the one created by the balloon and the pond water.  I don’t want my reflection to be distorted by things going on in my life.  I don’t want to only be able to be my best self when my counters are clean.

During Covid, because none of us had a template for how to navigate the uncharted waters we found ourselves in, many of us began the pandemic trying to gain control in areas we could.  In my house, I cleaned cupboards and scanned pictures.  I like to get my surrounding organized, giving me a sense of control over my life.  I also like to set goals and check things off a list.  I don’t think there is anything wrong with this ordering of my external world.  The balloon image helped me see there is also room in my life for some internal housekeeping.  When I calm my insides, I can send out the ‘me’ I’m striving to become, no matter what is happening outside of myself. 

The stillness of the pond allowed for the perfect reflection of the balloon.   My biking adventure, the Great Canadian Crossing, is giving me time and space to calm my own waters.  I love the rhythm of the pedal strokes, just as I loved the familiar sound of my running feet hitting the pavement.  At the end of it, I’ll really have nothing to show others in terms of my accomplishment.  However, I do feel a sense of peace inside as I cycle through the stillness of the mornings, past spotted fawns, baby ducklings heading off to swim with mama, soaring pelicans looking for the right place to land in the river, and as I give a gentle wave and smile to other early risers and deep thinkers like myself.

My inquiry for you this week is, ‘How can I calm these waters?’
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Elizabeth is a certified professional Leadership Coach, and the owner of Critchley Coaching.  She is the founder and president of the Canadian charity, RDL Building Hope Society.   She works with corporations, non-profits and the public sector, providing leadership coaching.  She creates and facilitates custom workshops for all sizes of groups. She has particular expertise in facilitating Strategic Plans for organizations. Contact Elizabeth to learn how calm your water.
 

Ok, let’s be clear before we get started, the title is Breaking Wind, not Passing Wind.  I didn’t want anyone to think I was losing my mind, as I gain in kilometres during my Cross Canada Cycling Challenge!  For those of you interested, I’m currently cycling through Saskatchewan, virtually of course!

With staycations on many people’s lists this summer, I spent some time in June trying to think about places we might go that feel like a bit of an escape and yet are close to home.  Luckily for us, we are only about a ninety-minute drive to the magnificent Rocky Mountains so it didn’t take me long to know where I’d like to spend some time this summer.  For the last couple of years Jim and I have both talked about taking at least one day each week and heading into the mountains for some hiking, biking or sightseeing.  Somehow, each summer has come and gone and while we have managed a few trips to enjoy the mountains, we have never managed to make it the priority we have said it would be.

Until this year.

After self-isolating for months, along with all Canadians, it felt almost criminal that we had taken the sights of our own mountain ‘backyard’ so for granted.  I’ve always assumed that the mountains would simply be there whenever I was ready to join them for a day.  One of the lessons of this year’s pandemic is that in fact the mountains are there, but I cannot assume I can always be there to enjoy them.  So once restrictions in our province were lifted in June, I declared I would be spending one day every week somewhere in the mountains this summer.  Jim agreed.  So far, we are making it happen.

For the last few weeks, we’ve been spending our treasured mountain days exploring Highway 1A.  This highway, the Bow Valley Parkway, is a little detour off of the Trans Canada Highway.  It’s only about fifty kilometres long, and it boasts the very famous Johnston Canyon.  With over one million visitors each year, Johnston Canyon is one of the most popular tourist attractions in Banff National Park.  This year, in an attempt to minimize large gatherings and maximize physical distancing, while the hike at Johnston Canyon remains open, the road leading to it is closed to vehicular traffic.  

From Banff to beyond Johnston’s Canyon, at Castle Junction, Highway 1A is completely closed off to traffic.  Beyond Castle Junction, the road is open, but there are very few vehicles on it.  This means the entire highway is a perfect place for cyclists this summer, and it is where we have found ourselves one day out of each of the last few weeks.  This past week, on Tuesday, we decided to attempt the stretch from Castle Junction to the Lake Louise end of the highway.  Just like the sections we rode in the previous weeks, this one did not disappoint!

The scenery is absolutely spectacular.  The road has some challenging hills early on, but it’s manageable.  Our biggest challenge this week was the headwind we ran into as we cycled toward Lake Louise.  Strong westerly winds had been predicted for the morning, and unfortunately, this time Environment Canada hit the nail on the head.  Sometimes it felt like we were in a wind tunnel, and for the rest of the time it felt like we were climbing hills.

Wind in your face is not your friend when you are cycling.  The very nature of the activity causes it to always feel like there is a slight wind.  When the real wind is blowing against you, it can be demoralizing.  We commented that hills are actually easier to navigate than wind.  At least when you are climbing a hill, no matter how high it is, you eventually get to the top.  Many times, you are rewarded with a heavenly coast down the other side.  But the wind is relentless.  There is no coasting down the other side, until you actually turn around and go the other way.

One trick I’ve learned in cycling is the power of the group.  Any time there are two or more riders travelling together, they can greatly reduce the effort of all but one of the riders by following each other in a single line, close together.  The rider in the front has the same sensation against the wind they would have if they were riding alone.  They will be headlong into the wind.  The other riders, however, the ones lined up behind the front rider, will be buffered from the wind by the lead rider.  The lead rider provides a wind break, which effectively reduces the effort the others need to expend.  While this may seem to be a small thing, studies have shown the effort saved is between 27% and 50% depending on variables like number of riders, rider position, strength of wind and the ability of the cyclists.

None of us, not Jim and I, nor our friends we were cycling with, Brenda and Daryl, have ever been invited to join the Tour de France.  We are not pros.  We don’t know the exact technique of breaking wind or drafting.  However, last Tuesday, we summoned our inner cyclist and gave it a try.  Our strategy was to each lead for about 500m, then peel off the front and take up a new position in the back, with the next rider in line taking the lead for about 500m.  Even with our complete lack of expertise in this technique, it was amazing the difference it made.

The first improvement was realizing that when we were in the lead, there would be an end to the work, and it would happen quickly and predictably.  Secondly, we felt like we were making an equitable contribution to the effort of the group.  Finally, the time flew by because it was interesting to stay focused on our strategy, rather than wondering when the blessed wind would end.

When Covid 19 hit Canada in March, we all began cycling into a headwind.  While there have been a few lulls in the wind, generally it has been relentless.  By all predictions, it sounds like it won’t settle down any time soon either.  It dawned on me on Tuesday, likely when I was not in the lead, that all of us could benefit from a little wind break.  We can also all provide it.

In cycling, not one extra ounce of effort is required to lead the pack.  What is required, is first for someone to notice that the members of the group will benefit if everyone works together.  The success of the effort depends on the leader taking up their position, keeping a reasonable pace, glancing behind one in a while to make sure the group is actually able to follow and thus reap the benefit, and then to recognize when their work is done. 

The relief it gives to the others is immeasurable.   There is also a sense of importance in knowing that every single member of the group will at some time take their place in the lead.  Everyone’s contribution is important. No one is better or worse.  No one is leading because the others cannot.  The leader is simply leading because they find themselves in the lead position.  For a short time, they possess what is needed to ease the load of others.

There are moments in each of our lives when we find ourselves in a position where we can easily lead, and take pressure off others.  There are also moments when we can benefit from recognizing others can do the same for us.

My inquiry for you this week is, ‘What position am I in the line?’
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Elizabeth is a certified professional Leadership Coach, and the owner of Critchley Coaching.  She is the founder and president of the Canadian charity, RDL Building Hope Society.   She works with corporations, non-profits and the public sector, providing leadership coaching.  She creates and facilitates custom workshops for all sizes of groups. She has particular expertise in facilitating Strategic Plans for organizations. Contact Elizabeth to learn how to effectively lead.
 
 
 

With a bit more freedom and favourable weather to be out and about these days, Jim and I have been taking full advantage of our short Calgary summer.  Other than to catch up on the nightly news we haven’t had many minutes to sit in front of our television.  This past week we did find ourselves thoroughly enjoying an episode of the newest season of Queer Eye.  In it, the Fab Five stopped in to help a minister with a makeover.

The makeover included new clothes and a haircut and even a renovation for his church’s community centre, part of which he needed to use for a temporary residence.  More important than these superficial changes, it also included a conversation about his confidence, about how he wanted to be the leader his church needed and how he felt he was coming up short.

During a conversation with Bobby, Noah was reminded to make sure the ‘people in the back rows’ could hear his message.  This wisdom had nothing to do with learning how to project his voice, or researching better sound equipment; it was about him learning to show up in his own life with the confidence he often reserved for those in the front rows at church.

I’ve been pondering back rows all week.

Usually when I hear a sentence that really makes me think in new way, I try to think about its application to my own life.  I don’t like to think of my life having front and back rows.   I don’t like to think I reserve the best of myself for certain people and moments, and for the rest, for the back rows, I give lesser of myself.  I’ve tried to be an observer of myself to notice how this plays out for me.  I’ve even spent time thinking about what I consider to be front row behaviour and whether I save this for my ‘front row people’. 

My front row behaviour consists of the behaviour I use when I am at my best.  Since I do quite a bit of public speaking and facilitating, I am conscious that the folks sitting nearest to me (I often facilitate using a circle formation) in any presentation are able to see me in clear focus.  They could easily notice a stain on my clothing or spinach in my teeth.  It is for these people, I suppose, that I pay careful attention to the details of my appearance.

People who are sitting farther away from me, or those who may only glimpse me from a distance, would never notice such details.  The question I posed for myself became, ‘If they can’t see the stain or spinach, does it matter?’

I contend, yes, it matters.

The spinach and stain of course are simply trivia.  I try not to wear either of these with any regularity.  The more important idea is thinking about who we deem important enough for us to show up as our best.  How we look is not the issue.  Looks are simply a side dish to the main course of who we are and how we are behaving.

When Bobby told the minister to make sure his message was heard in the back rows, I could picture the back rows of my life.  In my life, back rows are small daily interactions with strangers.  Back rows are my behaviours on bike paths; whether I slow down to pass others or aggressively ring my bell and blow by.  Back rows are my tone of voice.  Back rows are the effort I use to listen, especially when I am not quite as interested in the topic as the speaker.  Back rows are how I treat those I love after a long tiring day.  Back rows are the effort I put into presentations for small gatherings. 

Back rows are any places I could possibly ‘get away with’ showing up as less than who I like to think I am when I stand in front of an important group, or take my place as the leader in a circle.

Jim and I love to go to see live theatre and live music.  When we buy our tickets, we are always required to choose our seats and to pay accordingly.  Seats closer to the front cost more money.  Back row seats typically cost less.  The theory is the sights and sounds are less clear, the further away from the stage we are.  In the physical sense, this is absolutely true.  It’s hard to see spinach in between teeth from the back row.  However, even in cases where we have sat right in the very back row, I have appreciated the effort theatre groups go to, to make sure the experience is equally satisfying no matter what the row.  Sometimes it involves an intricate sound system.  Sometimes additional screens are installed for more close-up viewing.  Every effort is made to ensure the same message is delivered to, and received by, every single member of the audience.

Whether we like it or not, each of us too, has an audience in our life.

I would like to think the people in the back rows of my life see the same person and experience the same feelings from me as the people in the front row.  Maybe I just need to add more space to my front rows.

My inquiry for you this week is, ‘Back row or front row?’
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Elizabeth is a certified professional Leadership Coach, and the owner of Critchley Coaching.  She is the founder and president of the Canadian charity, RDL Building Hope Society.   She works with corporations, non-profits and the public sector, providing leadership coaching.  She creates and facilitates custom workshops for all sizes of groups. She has particular expertise in facilitating Strategic Plans for organizations. Contact Elizabeth to learn how to create more front rows.
 

Happy Canada Day!  I realize I’m a couple of days late, but I’ve forgiven myself already as I love to celebrate our magnificent country as often as I can.  This year, like for every other family in Canada, Canada Day, and likely all the other days of summer will not feel like those of other years.  If Covid has taught us anything, it is that life can shift in a moment.  I’m missing my regular Canada Day festivities, which always provide a kick off to the rest of the summer.

Our dance group normally dances at Heritage Park to celebrate Canada Day.  It’s one of the spots that annually hosts a citizenship ceremony, and we are always delighted to see our newest Canadians looking so proud at its completion.  This year, there were no live ceremonies, but there was a very moving virtual ceremony for nineteen of our newest Canadians, from coast to coast.

I had been looking forward to a couple of biking events this summer. One was a trip we had planned to Nova Scotia.  I’ve long had listed on my ‘Life List’, Bike the Cabot Trail.  June 15th was to have been the date I took my first pedal stroke along that majestic, iconic road, along with my brother, Daniel, Victoria, my friend Rhonda and her husband, John.  Jim had very generously volunteered to be our support vehicle, eliminating the need for us to bike with anything more than water and a light jacket. 

Rhonda, John and I had also signed up to bike the Ride to Conquer Cancer, in July.  This would have been Rhonda’s and my third year to participate in this.  It felt especially poignant this year because while several people I’ve biked for in the past have recently received excellent news regarding their health, several others did not live to see this summer.

Needless to say, I’ve been feeling a bit lost without a couple of good goals to anticipate.  Luckily, there are some creative Canadians out there, who have been working on ways to fill in the gaps for people like me.  About a month ago, my brother, Daniel, sent me information about a new race, The Great Canadian Crossing.  It really caught my eye.  About one hundred years ago, I was taking my first leadership course, and was tasked with the job of creating a list of 50 – 100 things I’d like to do in my life.  One thing I wrote on the list was to bike across Canada.  As the years have passed by, and the Trans Canada Trail didn’t exactly materialize the way I had envisioned it, I was beginning to think this would be one of the few things on my list I have not done. 

Yet!

This new event, The Great Canadian Crossing, is an event starting on July 1, 2020 and finishing on July 1, 2021.  The goal is to get across Canada.  Participants can run, cycle, walk, snowshoe, ski, or do a combination of all or some.  I’ve chosen to bike.  I haven’t quite figured out exactly how I’m going to tackle it.  We can see the distances for each province and territory and virtually complete them in any order we wish.  We can bike outside or on trainers in the basement. 

I do know I’d like to complete all my miles outdoors.  What I haven’t figured out is if I can finish before the snow flies, or if I’m going to need to save a couple of provinces for next spring.   No matter what, I’m excited.  And I’ve been training.  I love to bike in our local provincial park that boasts hundreds of kilometres of bike paths.  I also absolutely love taking the car ride to the mountains and putting on a few miles there.   This year I’m even more motivated to take the couple of hours needed to get there.  One of the secondary highways, usually crowded with cars filled with tourists heading to see beautiful Johnson Canyon, has been completely closed to vehicular traffic.  Bikers are free to cycle it’s full fifty- kilometre length and back, or go just a few kilometres and bike back from there.  There is plenty of room for every age and ability of cyclist.  My plan is to take advantage of this road at least once per week. 

Last week when we were cycling along this beautiful stretch of highway, Jim and I noticed that although we were working, it didn’t feel like we were climbing.    As we biked along, we discussed how far we would go.  We knew we would be more tired on the way back, simply because our legs wouldn’t be as fresh.  We were a bit concerned that when we turned around, we would be facing more hills than we wanted.

As it turned out, when we turned for the trip back, we found ourselves cruising along at a much faster clip than we had managed on the way out.   It seemed impossible.  What we hadn’t noticed on the way out, was we were consistently, gently climbing.  It was so consistent as to feel just normal.  It was only when we had turned, that we realized the extra effort we’d been making.

As we cruised along back to our vehicle, I thought about how life is like this too.  Often, we get so caught up in what we have to do in our daily lives, we don’t realize the extra effort we are expending.  The climbing begins to feel normal; not necessarily good, but normal.  We keep giving more and more effort.  Unlike Jim and I, who only had to turn around to get relief, usually the rest of us don’t even recognize when we are climbing.  We certainly often don’t have the luxury of turning around.

Most of us will encounter plenty of hills and even mountains we need to climb in our lives.  I believe we are all capable of climbing.  I even think completing a climb gives us a sense of confidence, of accomplishment.  When I think back on ‘climbing’ times in my life, things that have helped me the most were twofold.  Sometimes I needed to have people help flatten out the road for me.  This has come in the form of having others help with the ‘doing’.  Most of the time, though, I’ve managed pretty well with the doing.   What I have found to be even more helpful was to have a good riding partner, to have someone to listen, sometimes to talk, and most often to just be.  Finding a partner like this, feels a lot like turning for home.

As we head into this summer that is ‘not like the others’, let us notice the hills, gentle and steep, others are climbing, recognize the ones we are climbing ourselves, and find ways to partner up to help us get back home.

My inquiry for you this week is, ‘What kind of climbing partner am I?’
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Elizabeth is a certified professional Leadership Coach, and the owner of Critchley Coaching.  She is the founder and president of the Canadian charity, RDL Building Hope Society.   She works with corporations, non-profits and the public sector, providing leadership coaching.  She creates and facilitates custom workshops for all sizes of groups. She has particular expertise in facilitating Strategic Plans for organizations. Contact Elizabeth to learn how to make climbing easier.