Jim and I are heading to Yukon next week. This idea was well thought out, but that was over a year ago, and perhaps I forgot to re-read the plan before agreeing to it this year! Several years ago, my brother, Daniel, heard about a bike race in Yukon that sounded crazy, but fun. Its the Kluane – Chilkat International Bike Relay. Competitors in this race cycle from Haines Junction, Yukon, to Haines, Alaska, a total distance of 240km. The race starts at 8:00am, and the cut-off time for the finish is 9:00pm. On the same day. The route takes the cyclists over two mountain ranges and finishes at the Pacific Ocean. Most competitors will race as a part of a relay team. The race has eight stages, and teams can be comprised of two, four, or eight members.
Or one.
That’s the crazy part. The part where my brother and I will ride together but each compete as soloists. The idea of doing it solo sounded epic last year when I thought I was fit and ready. Unfortunately, at that time, several Indigenous Nations located along the 240km race route, were concerned about Covid, and the possibility of their Nations being impacted by all the visitors, so the race organizers chose to cancel the 2022 event. We understood completely and comforted ourselves with the thought that we’d have an extra year to prepare. After all, 240km is a long way to ride in one day.
Sometimes it seems like all I have to do is make a plan and the universe starts to chuckle. Chuckle she did. When I would normally have started my outside training in early spring, not only did Mother Nature extend winter, but I managed to pick up two viruses that had me housebound for close to eight weeks. By the beginning of May, I was starting to doubt my chance of any possible success at this race. However, not one to be put off by a bit of adversity, I hopped on my bike as soon as I could and forced myself to not go too far, too soon. But with less than six weeks until race day, I needed to get at it!
So here I am, seven days away from race day, hoping to heaven I’ve done enough, and at the same time knowing it’s all ok no matter what. Jim will drive our support vehicle and if the proverbial wheels fall off, I can always hop in the truck and enjoy the magnificent scenery from there. For now, I’m going to concentrate on packing my bag, and my equipment.
I have a love/hate relationship with packing a suitcase. I dislike trying to remember every single thing I’ll need, every little cream, and clothing for every situation and weather condition. I also have a bad habit of standing in my closet as I begin to pack, seeing an article of clothing I haven’t worn for years, and somehow thinking I’m suddenly going to love wearing it on my trip! At home when I need something I can just grab it, but on a trip if it isn’t in my suitcase, I’m out of luck. My other small problem is while I have a very nice suitcase, with plenty of perfect compartments, I often find myself with too much stuff and not enough bag.
On the other hand, what I love is that once my bag is packed and closed, I don’t have to think anymore. For the duration of the trip, I don’t need to choose between outfits. The deciding is already done. I’m not sure if it’s for better or worse but the whole thing is within my control.
Throughout this spring, Jim and I have navigated some of the ups and downs of life. We’ve marked some ends, beginnings, and milestones, each giving me an opportunity to think. Each of us gets exactly one trip through this wonderful life.
And one suitcase to pack.
Our bag is empty when we enter the world. If we are very lucky, others begin to fill it for us before we can do so for ourselves. Like we do for Ben and Andy, and like we did for our own children before them, we carefully place love, security, belonging, encouragement, hopes and dreams inside. As we grow and begin to take responsibility for our own lives we start to add to our own bag. We develop survival tools that must be packed. We have experiences that inform our choices for what to put into those tiny compartments. When we take risks and experience success, we learn to pack bravery. When we experience shame, or failure, we may decide to pack caution. When we are surrounded with security, we add love.
In our suitcase, we get to choose what we put in every single nook and cranny, in every zippered pouch and even in the secret compartments. We can fill them with our worries and guilt, our insecurities, and resentments, with the tools that no longer serve us well, with our fears and with our arrogance.
Or.
We can unload some of those heavy objects and replace them with optimism and hope, courage to try new things, bravery to expand our dreams and our circle of friends, curiosity, excitement, compassion, and grace. In those little hidden compartments, we can pack gratitude, appreciation, kind words and love.
As I head to Yukon this week, my suitcase will proceed me. It will leave a few days before me with my brother, traveling in Jim’s truck, our support vehicle, maximizing the chance for it to arrive on time and in one piece. Jim and I will go by air. On the way home, we’ll take the scenic route in the truck and my brother will fly. This of course means I need to think about packing now. The clothes for this trip are easy. Bike shorts, jersey, helmet, gloves, water bottles and supplies for my favourite fuel, peanut butter sandwiches. The other bits may not be as easy to find and pack, but they will likely prove to be equally as important. I plan to pack confidence, grace, humour, joy, determination, resilience, humility, and gratitude. I’ve seen fear try to weasel its way in, but for now, I’m not making room for her. I am going to make room for a few memories, ones I’ve already made reminding me of past challenges I took on and was able to achieve, and new ones from this trip. I have a few little spots left in my bag. These I will fill with the well wishes and positive thoughts of my family and friends, who, although they think this to be a bit crazy, send their best thoughts for my success and safety.
I won’t be able to post a blog next week. But I have a feeling I’ll have plenty of time to think of one for the following week, as we roll along the Haines Highway, watching for moose and bears, and praying for unexpected downhill stretches of road.
My inquiry for you this week is, ‘What is in my suitcase?’
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 and has expertise in facilitating Strategic Plans for organizations. Contact Elizabeth to learn how to find out how to pack your suitcase.
Or one.
That’s the crazy part. The part where my brother and I will ride together but each compete as soloists. The idea of doing it solo sounded epic last year when I thought I was fit and ready. Unfortunately, at that time, several Indigenous Nations located along the 240km race route, were concerned about Covid, and the possibility of their Nations being impacted by all the visitors, so the race organizers chose to cancel the 2022 event. We understood completely and comforted ourselves with the thought that we’d have an extra year to prepare. After all, 240km is a long way to ride in one day.
Sometimes it seems like all I have to do is make a plan and the universe starts to chuckle. Chuckle she did. When I would normally have started my outside training in early spring, not only did Mother Nature extend winter, but I managed to pick up two viruses that had me housebound for close to eight weeks. By the beginning of May, I was starting to doubt my chance of any possible success at this race. However, not one to be put off by a bit of adversity, I hopped on my bike as soon as I could and forced myself to not go too far, too soon. But with less than six weeks until race day, I needed to get at it!
So here I am, seven days away from race day, hoping to heaven I’ve done enough, and at the same time knowing it’s all ok no matter what. Jim will drive our support vehicle and if the proverbial wheels fall off, I can always hop in the truck and enjoy the magnificent scenery from there. For now, I’m going to concentrate on packing my bag, and my equipment.
I have a love/hate relationship with packing a suitcase. I dislike trying to remember every single thing I’ll need, every little cream, and clothing for every situation and weather condition. I also have a bad habit of standing in my closet as I begin to pack, seeing an article of clothing I haven’t worn for years, and somehow thinking I’m suddenly going to love wearing it on my trip! At home when I need something I can just grab it, but on a trip if it isn’t in my suitcase, I’m out of luck. My other small problem is while I have a very nice suitcase, with plenty of perfect compartments, I often find myself with too much stuff and not enough bag.
On the other hand, what I love is that once my bag is packed and closed, I don’t have to think anymore. For the duration of the trip, I don’t need to choose between outfits. The deciding is already done. I’m not sure if it’s for better or worse but the whole thing is within my control.
Throughout this spring, Jim and I have navigated some of the ups and downs of life. We’ve marked some ends, beginnings, and milestones, each giving me an opportunity to think. Each of us gets exactly one trip through this wonderful life.
And one suitcase to pack.
Our bag is empty when we enter the world. If we are very lucky, others begin to fill it for us before we can do so for ourselves. Like we do for Ben and Andy, and like we did for our own children before them, we carefully place love, security, belonging, encouragement, hopes and dreams inside. As we grow and begin to take responsibility for our own lives we start to add to our own bag. We develop survival tools that must be packed. We have experiences that inform our choices for what to put into those tiny compartments. When we take risks and experience success, we learn to pack bravery. When we experience shame, or failure, we may decide to pack caution. When we are surrounded with security, we add love.
In our suitcase, we get to choose what we put in every single nook and cranny, in every zippered pouch and even in the secret compartments. We can fill them with our worries and guilt, our insecurities, and resentments, with the tools that no longer serve us well, with our fears and with our arrogance.
Or.
We can unload some of those heavy objects and replace them with optimism and hope, courage to try new things, bravery to expand our dreams and our circle of friends, curiosity, excitement, compassion, and grace. In those little hidden compartments, we can pack gratitude, appreciation, kind words and love.
As I head to Yukon this week, my suitcase will proceed me. It will leave a few days before me with my brother, traveling in Jim’s truck, our support vehicle, maximizing the chance for it to arrive on time and in one piece. Jim and I will go by air. On the way home, we’ll take the scenic route in the truck and my brother will fly. This of course means I need to think about packing now. The clothes for this trip are easy. Bike shorts, jersey, helmet, gloves, water bottles and supplies for my favourite fuel, peanut butter sandwiches. The other bits may not be as easy to find and pack, but they will likely prove to be equally as important. I plan to pack confidence, grace, humour, joy, determination, resilience, humility, and gratitude. I’ve seen fear try to weasel its way in, but for now, I’m not making room for her. I am going to make room for a few memories, ones I’ve already made reminding me of past challenges I took on and was able to achieve, and new ones from this trip. I have a few little spots left in my bag. These I will fill with the well wishes and positive thoughts of my family and friends, who, although they think this to be a bit crazy, send their best thoughts for my success and safety.
I won’t be able to post a blog next week. But I have a feeling I’ll have plenty of time to think of one for the following week, as we roll along the Haines Highway, watching for moose and bears, and praying for unexpected downhill stretches of road.
My inquiry for you this week is, ‘What is in my suitcase?’
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 and has expertise in facilitating Strategic Plans for organizations. Contact Elizabeth to learn how to find out how to pack your suitcase.
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