Schedule B is a list of athletes, determined by each sport in Canada and submitted seasonally to Own The Podium, who are deemed to be medal contenders in international competition. The list is used to allocate resources and funding for various things like training camps, physiological testing, travel and equipment etc. The athletes on the list have earned the right to be on Schedule B through podium performances and as such have a solid proportion of resources directed at keeping them at the top as long as possible.

When I decided to retire I unwittingly removed myself from the famed Schedule B, although, as I’ve mentioned, I had no idea of its existence or that it bore my name for many years. To know that I could be simply deleted, from a life of 23 years in sport, with the touch of a button was, well, sad, funny and strangely cathartic. Nothing is permanent in this world, not the least of which was my place on Schedule B.

In the months since I’ve retired, I’ve had to move on to Schedule Me. After over two decades in sport, where I was, in a nutshell, given a fairly strict schedule nearly every single day (which I did follow voluntarily of course) I have come to recognize the importance of my long-dormant time management skills and the relatively new concept of taking initiative. I had heard people talk of such things in the ‘outside world’, but the realities are somewhat less tangible inside the insulated sporting bubble.

So what exactly am I doing with my time? On Schedule Me at the moment is a great deal of skiing. To date I’ve skied 19 days this winter, both cross-country and telemark (side note – I feel pain in my legs when telemark skiing that far exceeds anything I ever felt in speed skating – and I trained hard). In the 16 years I’ve lived in Calgary, I doubt I made it to a total of 19 days of skiing. And I really love skiing.

That is of course a luxury that cannot be sustained infinitely. That I have the luxury of skiing at all, let alone as often as I have recently been, is one I’m careful to appreciate and cherish. But after a few months of being a ski bum the urge to earnestly pursue new challenges with renewed purpose has emerged and I find myself excited, and a bit overwhelmed, by the possibilities that lay before me.

Thankfully Schedule Me has quickly filled up and my days are increasingly crammed with meetings, school visits, work for the CBC, athlete mentoring and a myriad of other interesting things. Like say, skiing. But with training no longer the main priority in my life, some days I struggle to fit in the bout of exercise that my body craves. You can take the girl out of sport, but you can’t take sport out of the girl!

On Schedule Me: Thursday morning rides in Nosehill Park

On this fine day, Schedule Me necessitated an early morning run, as it was the only time I would have to get some exercise. I left the house at 7am (on an empty stomach no less – something I never would have done on Schedule B!) just as the first morning light began to sneak into the receding night darkness. It was a crisp, chilly morning but calm and quiet, I was alone in my thoughts.

As I crested the bluffs overlooking the mighty Bow River, I turned, as I always do, to take in the unobstructed mountain view. It being dark of course, I could not see the mountains I usually see. Instead I gasped, and was stopped in my tracks, as my eyes feasted on the sight of the most beautiful moonset I had ever seen.

An enormous, golden yellow orb filled the dark sky, just above the horizon, and in the time it took me to run across the bluffs and down to the river I watched as the moon sunk slowly behind the dark silhouette of the distant Canadian Rockies, until it was but a speck of reflected light and then just… gone. How lucky it was that I happened upon such a sight. I could easily have missed it had I left a minute or two later, or not turned to look that way, but instead I saw it all and it made me feel so happy.

I continued on as the sun began to rise, marveling at the ever-changing hue of the dark sky cover, from black to mauve to light blue and pale yellow. It was quiet down by the river, and I felt glad I had the chance to start the day this way. Back into the bustle of the day and on with my busy thoughts, I’m heartened just a bit by Schedule Me.

I get asked a lot these days what I’m up to. To sum it all up, Schedule Me is a pretty random mélange of work, play, fun and change. I appreciate little things that I didn’t always notice before, like moonsets and busyness. I will admit to feeling a small pang of sadness that it really is all over when I saw Christine Nesbitt shatter the 1000m world record a couple of weeks ago. I now fully understand that I will never have that amazing race feeling ever again.

But the pang went away, kind of like my name from schedule B, the darkness of the night, and the moon behind the mountains.

I do, however, love watching Olympic hockey. I confess too that my heart was aflutter even last weekend as the juniors made a valiant, albeit unsuccessful, comeback seem possible during the third period of the semi-final game against Russia. That was exciting.

And like most people who tuned in to watch Sidney Crosby make his spectacular return to the ice a couple of months ago, I felt relieved, and happy, that he seemed to be back to his old self, scoring goals with ease, getting in the mix, and generally being awesome. It seemed as though, for a moment or two anyway, that his triumphant return instantly made everything better, as if somehow concussions were no longer the pink elephant in the room, that perhaps the great Canadian game wasn’t broken after all.

Unfortunately, just a short time later, that fragile veneer seems to have shattered into a million tiny pieces. Night after night, star player after star player, hit after hit, grown men, giants, heroes, the invincible ones, are reduced to mere shadows of their former selves. And Crosby, out again indefinitely. His future in hockey, and in life, remains a disquieting mystery to us, and most frustratingly, to him. And for what, exactly? Love of the game? Glory? Honour? Profit?

All of this leaves me feeling rather conflicted about this country’s passion for hockey. Over the Christmas holidays I went to my first ever Leafs game. Surprisingly, they won. I cheered when they scored and truly enjoyed the entertaining ruckus of it all. But the highlight video at the beginning of the game showed only hits and fights, much to the delight of the rabid fans. And when the crowd leapt to their feet in barbaric anticipation of an impending fight I felt sick to my stomach — and it wasn’t because of the sausage on a bun I got on the street before the game.

——–

I’m a little confused, but not at all fooled, by what is meant by the term ‘concussion-like’ symptoms. In the absence of actually hitting your head, what else is there that can give you ‘concussion-like’ symptoms? Perhaps there is another ailment or accident that can lead to random, sudden loss of consciousness, short-term memory loss, feeling dizzy, nauseous, and confused, an inability to withstand loud noise or bright light and ongoing severe headaches that we, and medical doctors, are not yet aware of. That seems plausible.

Lately, both media and pro-teams alike have taken to frequently using the term ‘concussion-like’ symptoms to describe how an injured athlete is faring. While I’m not a doctor or expert in this area I’m pretty certain that ‘concussion-like’ symptoms are actual concussion symptoms. Regardless of how teams or athletes like to spell it out for the media, when you hit your head and feel lousy you have a concussion.

Are we meant to feel less concerned because the real truth is being masked by a more palatable (read: marketable) expression? Is it for our sake that official concussion diagnoses are spared, so as to limit the damage to our collective psyche — that of concerned but emotionally removed fans — lest we stop buying tickets? Or maybe it is for the sake of the player’s ego, future viability, and likelihood of signing a new lucrative contract, that he not be branded as ‘concussion prone’.

Regardless of whether symptoms stem from something ‘like’ a concussion or are from an actual concussion and whether or not they are severe or mild is, at this point, moot, in my humble opinion. That long and growing list of athletes, particularly hockey players, is not characterized by anything other than the fact that its occupants have suffered permanent, and in some cases repeated, life-altering brain damage and are facing an uncertain future in the wake of a concussion epidemic the likes of which the NHL has never acknowledged before.

Much like a deer, frozen in space and time at the blinding sight of oncoming headlights, the NHL seems paralyzed and incapable of taking any meaningful or measurable action on this issue, even as the nightly exodus of injured players continues and the list of players with ‘concussion-like’ symptoms expands endlessly.

There is little to be gained from denial except, I suppose, money. But sadly, there is so much to be lost. From the outside, as a casual but concerned observer, it appears to me that the NHL is content to remain frozen, inactive and mum on the issue. When Gary Bettman publicly denounced the overwhelming scientific evidence that concussions can cause permanent brain damage the response should have been one of outrage. Instead it was mentioned in passing, almost casually, during the nightly highlights, in much the same way the latest players to be sidelined by a concussion are nonchalantly announced. It’s hardly news anymore, after all.

Stories of players purposely denying or hiding symptoms, lax suspensions for devastating hits to the head and denial by coaches, players, pundits, and commentators alike, speak volumes to the depth, breadth and scope of the problem. Oh wait; it’s not a problem right? And yet the lack of respect that players have for one another, and the positive reinforcement they receive from those who employ them, indicates to me an appalling systematic failure to uphold the values of sport we all claim to hold so dear.

The NHL can keep their heads in the sand as long as they like – who am I to tell them what to do? Meanwhile, their stars, their raison d’etre, are losing their futures, and in some cases, their lives. The rest of us, stalwart fans and bandwagon jumpers alike, are beginning to tune out. So too are the kids who were once the future heroes of the great game.

Today, November 21, 2011, marks one year, to the day, that I fell and hit my head at a World Cup in Berlin last season. What a calamitous circumstance I found myself in at that moment, concussed, confused and already considering retirement. Some difficult months ensued as I slowly navigated through a long recovery and eventual (but unrelated) decision to retire.

Now, almost simultaneously, I’ve ended up on the other side of both a long, wonderful career in sport and an unfortunate, unwelcome (of course) head injury. Obviously I would rather not have experienced eight months of feeling lousy but the only acceptable conclusion I can make is simply that life has its ups and downs and I’m thankful to have made it through.

Interestingly, much like the symptoms of concussions themselves, the issue of head injuries and their enduring repercussions has remained prevalent, albeit somewhat quietly, in the media for some time now. That the topic came to light at all is surely no mystery given the number of high profile hockey players and athletes who have fallen prey to an ill-fated knock on the head. Its staying power, though, has been remarkable, and oddly encouraging, in that the significance and impact on those affected are slowly gaining mainstream acceptance and establishing widespread concern among those capable of doing something about it.

But the announcement that Sidney Crosby will return to action tonight has sparked a new flurry of commentaries and opinion pieces in the media about whether the concussion issue really has led to definitive change and action on the part of the powers that be to crack down on headshots and malicious hits. I’ve followed these stories with the kind of interest that only those who have lived through a head injury can have: the natural desire to never think about or experience one again tempered by the inescapable connection to all those who have ever lived, or will live, through one.

One piece I read lamented the usual ‘slippage’ that said crackdowns invariably face as tough talk and action slowly recedes and things simply return to normal (read: dangerous). Brendan Shanahan sure made some harsh calls in the pre-season but where is he now? I’m sure Daniel Alfredsson and Ryan Miller would like to know. Historically this is the way things are dealt with in the NHL and somehow no matter how many times the issue returns it always seems to slip away again without any sense of meaningful change.

Alternatively, other commentary I’ve heard is convinced that the recent concussion debate has led to concrete change for the better and an increase in awareness that just wasn’t there before. Maybe this is true, maybe it’s not. I’m certainly not deep enough in the know to make any sort of informed declaration one way or the other. But based on the ongoing media reports I’m encouraged that there is heightened awareness, education and action regarding head injuries throughout all levels of the sport community. Unfortunately their frequent, ongoing recurrence and subsequent ignorance at the top is akin to a nasty wart that just won’t go away.

But who am I to spoil a party? Sydney Crosby’s return to the field of play is certainly a moment that will be long remembered as the heralded homecoming of one of the game’s greatest. We will all, undoubtedly, hold our collective breath and brace for that first check into the boards, and hopefully all sigh with relief as he goes on to spin some miraculous play, the very kind he is especially known for.

I don’t claim for one minute to understand the weight of expectation that now sits heavily on his shoulders.  I can however empathize, along with everyone else who has ever been through it, and probably even those who haven’t, with those inevitable enduring thoughts he will have about what might happen if he ever has to go through it again. That lingering risk is not something easily forgotten.

I am particularly aware of the issue on this day, it being my one-year concussionniversary. I find myself thinking a great deal about the past several months and the impact the injury has had on my well-being. It would, however, be un-human of me to despair.

Concussions are indeed a tough blow and have inflicted silent suffering on far too many. But human beings also have a great capacity for recovery and are inherently driven to succeed at that which conspires to inspire them. If Sidney Crosby, and anyone else who has ever overcome a time of great hardship, should forever be remembered for anything, it is most certainly that.

I was, however, pretty good at speaking French. I grew up in Ottawa and took French immersion in school from day one. I was fully bilingual relatively quickly and followed through with French all the way through high school. I didn’t take math in English until my ill-fated rendezvous with Calculus in grade 13, which surely must explain my poor grade in that class!

After moving to Calgary it became pretty clear that any opportunities to keep up my French were few and far between. This is one English-speaking town. I did my best to practice with the Quebec skaters whenever possible, but over the years it became obvious to me that my French was slipping away.

I still did many interviews in French and got by reasonably well, but I was increasingly bothered that I could not remember if it was ‘le’ or ‘la’ or ‘un’ or ‘une’ or what the right word for ‘________’ was. Mix in a solo trip to Norway where I was forced to put into practice the Norwegian lessons of my youth and eventually much of my French became a mélange of poorly conjugated verbs mixed in with the odd Norwegian word that I was absolutely certain was actually French.

As for the world of television, it’s been a one-way street for me as long as I can remember. Like everyone else I have mostly been a passive viewer, whiling away many an hour on the road or at home, glued mercilessly to the tube. I’ve occasionally been an active participant, through broadcasted races and interviews. But I’ve never been on the other side of the lens, taking part in the making of TV or contributing to content from the opposite vantage point.

And then a call came asking if I’d like to do some commentating for the CBC this speed skating season and I soon found myself sitting next to one of the most iconic voices in Canadian sport, that of Steve Armitage, in a broadcast booth learning the ropes and how to call a race.

So what do these three things have to do with each other?  Well, last weekend they all came crashing together in an inexplicably peculiar manner, as I donned my newfound broadcasting hat in the French province of Quebec at a short track World Cup in Saguenay. I was re-immersed into the world of short track speed skating and French speaking Quebec and newly immersed into the world of broadcast television. It was quite an education.

A few short weeks to brush up on my admittedly weak short track knowledge seemed barely adequate to become the new voice of the sport to the Canadian public. And did I mention that we were going live? It turns out when they tell you they’re going to show only the 500m’s live, what it actually means is that the server in Toronto might go down and you also need to call the 1500m’s live, now, GO! Say wha?

It would have been funny to see me on camera while calling races as I often finished saying something on the fly, possibly incorrect, followed by shaking my head and wringing my hands in silence as I tried to think of the next right thing to say. Not surprisingly, there were a few flubs. Like when I said ‘oh geez’ on air after a multiple skater crash, or when I referred to a skater as ‘that Japanese guy’. I also took to making up words: when trying to describe the new team-skating rule, I brilliantly announced that it is no longer ‘unallowed’, followed by, ‘uhh, I don’t think that is a word.’  Steve Armitage saved me by deciding that he would ‘allow it.’

I was definitely limited by my lack of in-depth expertise on the finer technical aspects of short track speed skating, but I will learn. I was however, not limited at all by my well-earned ability to instantly become fodder for teasing by any new group of people I encounter, in this case the CBC crew. It didn’t take long for me to acquire, much to my dismay, the nickname “Poutine” which I will most certainly never shake. Long story. It’s a good thing I have thick skin.

I am quite certain that as I kid I raced at least once or twice in the Georges Vezina arena in Saguenay. While passing through its hallowed halls, adorned with tributes to legendary short track speed skaters like Marc Gagnon, some twenty years later, a plethora of long-lost short track memories arose from the cobwebby corners of my mind. Happily, my ability to speak French returned in much the same way. I was in the same place again, but also not. How curious it was to experience old and new, past and present, as one and the same.

It was immersion, cubed. The collision of memory, language and media became a new, layered experience unto itself. It was fun, exciting, challenging and a little bit stressful. I’m not quite sure about this but I think this phenomenon, this blending of varying dimensions, degrees and directions is generally something people refer to as ‘Life’.

Oh, hello Life.

In just a few weeks Green Calgary will be putting on a spectacular fundraising event at Hotel Arts in Calgary!  I’m thrilled to be the MC for this event as it promises to be a great night in support of a great organization working to make Calgary a greener city.  Mark November 3rd in your calendar and pick up your tickets here!

Green Calgary is a dynamic, non-profit urban environmental organization with a mission to empower Calgarians to create healthy homes and communities through environmental education, products and services.

Art and design can have unique abilities to engage, inspire, and move people toward a healthy environment and a peaceful, sustainable world. This event, hosted by Olympic Medalist and environmental champion Kristina Groves, is a twin celebration of local sustainability –a celebration of connections between art and the environment by showcasing environmentally themed work by local artists and the achievements of Green Calgary.

Please join us for a gala fundraising evening on behalf of Green Calgary, the city’s leading urban sustainability non-profit organization. The inaugural “Red Wine, Blue Cheese, Green Art” gala celebrates the connections between arts and the environment. The highlight of the event will be an auction of environmentally themed works by local artists.

Details:

The Date: November 3, 2011

The Location: Hotel Arts

The Time: 6:00PM to 11:00PM

The Food: A delectable strolling menu featuring local and organic ingredients

The MC: Kristina Groves—4X Olympic medalist and sustainability advocate

Special Guests: Sans Façon—visiting artists from Glasgow, Scotland currently working with the City of Calgary to create environmentally themed public art

The Entertainment: Green Fools Theatre, Kris Demeanor and his Crack Band

Tickets: $100 per person, or buy 9 and get one free!

Participating local artists currently include: Derek Besant, Lisa Brawn, Chris Cran, Helena Hadala, Eric Louie, Audrey Mabee, Gary Olson, Teresa Posyniak, Paul Van Ginkel, and Carl White—with more to come!

For tickets, please click here

Your ticket Includes:

• Entrance to the Gala at Hotel Arts, 119 – 12 Ave SW
• An evening of local art, live entertainment, celebrity guests and a strolling menu featuring local and organic ingredients
• The chance to participate in both the silent & live auctions of environmentally themed art from Calgary and area artists
• The opportunity to take home art that inspires & moves you
• Canadian singer and songwriter Kris Demeanor will perform for your listening pleasure
• Performances that will delight you from The Green Fools Theatre Company
• Meet visiting artists with SansFacon, an Artists-In-Residency Program through the UEP (Utilities and Environmental Protection) at the City of Calgary
• Entry to the Green Calgary Art Marketplace November 4th & 5^th
• Good Karma

Hope you can make it!