Kristina Groves

I’ve been singing this song a lot lately. I can’t even look at the words without singing it in my head. It pretty much sums up the last two months of my life: summertime and the living is easy.  Every once it a while I randomly belt it out at the top of my lungs… fish are jumpin’ and the cotton is hi-iiigh… Can’t you just hear it? I really like to draw it out, make the words last forever. I don’t think Scott appreciates my singing as much as I do, but that’s his problem.

Powderface Ridge, near Bragg Creek, AB.

In case you hadn’t heard, we got summer here.  Here, as in Calgary, Alberta, Canada. It’s true! It was a little late in coming, but once it finally came, it came full on.  It’s still here in fact. Today is September 9th and it’s 29 degrees, nary a cloud in the sky.

I’m not sure if it’s the first time I’ve simply noticed the summer weather in a while or if it really has been an exceptionally good summer.  Probably a little bit of both. Instead of doing lowwalks with my head down all summer I actually did fun summer things this year like camp, ride my shiny new mountain bike, hike, pick strawberries, make jam, cruise on my Dutch Oma bike for ice cream and jump off the dock repeatedly at the cottage, and somehow the whole time the sun never seemed to find a cloud to hide behind.

That makes it sound as if I didn’t like lowwalks very much, which isn’t exactly true, but lowwalks are really really hard, not to mention hard on my back! I did enjoy them in a masochistic kind of way, but in all honesty the respite from such a difficult, not to mention strange looking, speed skating exercise has been good for my summer.

Scott and me hiking up to Picklejar Lakes

Also, I’m happy to announce the following: I feel better.  This is cause for celebration because I can now ride my bike, go for a run, have conversations longer than ten minutes, read a whole book and even turn on the blender.  Maybe that’s why I had a great summer, because I could do all those things without feeling like a big pile of garbage. Not feeling like a big pile of garbage has allowed me to get out and really enjoy summer as opposed to observing it from underneath a big pile of garbage. I realize it’s difficult to imagine what it feels like to feel like a big pile of garbage but the gist of it is that it feels really bad. If you can avoid it, please do.

I still have the odd day where I feel like a tiny pile of garbage, like maybe just a banana peel and some coffee grinds, but generally, thankfully, I feel like my concussion days are behind me. That doesn’t speak much to what kinds of days lie before me but let’s save that for another day.

This summer I discovered that I really love mountain biking. I’ve tried it before but never did it often enough, or for long enough, to get past my complete lack of skill or fear for my life and limbs. I’d also never ridden a bike with rear suspension, which, it turns out, is a bit of a game changer. I suspect that twenty years of road riding all summer has left me looking for a change of pace, but choosing its riskier sibling, mountain biking, after sustaining a concussion in November, is probably not the wisest thing I’ve ever done.  Thankfully, I also discovered that there is no shame in walking.  If I can’t do something or feel it’s too risky, I just get off my bike and push it.  As my skill level has increased, the fine line I walk between what is risky and what is not has blurred ever so slightly, but fortunately my ego can sustain the forgoing of a big drop on a gnarly descent because I remember all too well that big pile of garbage.

Climbing up the beautiful Powderface Ridge

Alpine meadow wildflowers flanked by a really fun singletrack

Every year for the past number of years we’ve been invited to join some friends on a mountain biking trip in the Chilcotins. For the uninitiated, i.e. me, the Chilcotins are well known in the mountain biking world as one of ‘the’ places to ride. The Chilcotins are a mountain range in the B.C. interior, about an hour west of Lillooet, laced with endless single track trails in alpine and sub alpine terrain. Each time we were invited I’d have to decline (note the switch from ‘we’ to ‘I’… Scott could have gone every year, but I would always be deep in the throes of intense, and un-missable, summer training).

But this year was different. Now past the concussion and taking a break, I jumped at the chance to finally whet my mountain biking chops (or lack thereof) in the Chilcotins. I’d been sufficiently primed for the difficulty of the trails by Scott’s friend Dylan, and while excited about riding, I knew I would be in a little over my head. Turns out I wasn’t half bad and by hour five on the big Windy Pass ride I felt like I could fly on two wheels. Letting go of my fear, tempered with my increasing skill level and the sheer beauty of my surroundings, led to the most liberating sensation I’ve felt in a good long while.

Windy Pass

I think that’s why I keep going back. While my road bike gathers dust in the basement, I choose to hit the trails instead, whether out to Bragg Creek and the beautiful Powderface Ridge or just down the street from my house to the bluffs along the mighty Bow River. I love the challenge of doing something new that I’m not very good at and the sense of accomplishment from simply riding up a hill that before I had to walk up. I’ve had my fair share of ‘holy sh*t’ moments, enough to maintain a strong sense of fallibility, and enough that I signed up for a skills course this weekend at Canada Olympic Park. The forecast? Sunny and 25 all weekend.

It’s been a luxury for me to have this time to do all the things I’ve sacrificed for so many years. The past two months the living has been easy. I’ve probably done more little adventures in the last two months than in the last five years combined. I’m free to do as I choose on what has essentially become a months long vacation. Of course the last 23 years have been one giant adventure too, but this unexpected hiatus, while initially unpleasant and unwelcome, has breathed a flush of fresh air into my life and rejuvenated my spirit.

It’s true, and inevitable, that this glorious summer will end sometime, even though today it feels like it will last forever. I’ve packed in as much as I could but soon it will be time to put the bikes and tents and sleeping bags away for the winter. Today though, I still hear the words of Summertime floating melodically, repeatedly, through my mind… One of these mor-niiiings you’re goin’ to rise up siiiiing-ing…then you’ll spread your wiiiiiings and you’ll take the sky-yyyyy…

A nice way to start the fall, don’t you think?

A beautiful July day hike up to the unexpectedly stunning Smuts Lake

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If you’re in town this weekend and looking for something fun to do come check out the Bow River Flow!

The Bow River Flow is an urban festival of human-powered transportation that celebrates healthy and resilient communities. Through citizen-led programming that incorporates cycling culture, local music and art, a kid’s zone, participatory processions, fitness activities, and an appreciation of the Bow River, this event inspires Calgarians to contribute to our dynamic city.

It is Calgary’s version of an event which emerged in the 1970s in Bogota, Columbia: Ciclovia.  Roads are re-purposed during under-utilized periods for biking, walking, and family festivities. Similar events have emerged in cities all over the world, from Winnipeg, to New York, to Melbourne.

These events allow cities to re-envision how public spaces, the largest of which in the city are roads, are regarded and used. It’s about getting communities active and out celebrating local culture. They also connect to how we transport ourselves and allow an opening to acknowledge alternate forms of transportation.

This is a non-commercialized, non-motorized festival which opens Memorial Drive to all forms of active transport, encouraging Calgarians to share the road and allow excess lanes to be enjoyed in a safe, car-free environment.

Join us on Sunday, August 21 as part of a world-wide renaissance of cities built for people!

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I was in the midst of writing a silly blog post about how I’ve been rather reluctant, loath even, to call myself a Calgarian, even though I was born in Calgary and have lived here for the past 16 years, and about how I still feel like a transplanted Ottawan, having spent my entire childhood and formative years there, when I first heard about what happened in Norway.

I stopped writing it because it seemed rather stupid all of a sudden to pit Cowtown versus O-Town and dissect which one felt more like home and why.  It is true that I’ve always identified more strongly with Ottawa, and Ontario, for a myriad of reasons, (family, cottage, childhood nostalgia, hot summers, Gatineau park…) and to that end, it still feels like home to me.  It is also true that I’ve occasionally been at odds with Calgary for a different set of reasons altogether (sheer geographical size, traffic, short summers, no lakes, politics…) and because I only moved here for sport it doesn’t always feel like home.

It seemed stupid because in reality one can feel at home or at odds with any place given the right or wrong circumstances, and ultimately I should feel grateful that I have two places I can call home.  And it seemed especially stupid when I heard about what happened in Norway.

Norway is like home #3 for me.  My mother was born in Norway and lived there until 1969 when the pull of a certain gentleman in Vancouver drew her to this great country.  Leaving her country, her language, her life and her entire family behind to forge a new life in Canada was a leap of faith, and love, that made it possible for me to exist.

We traveled to Norway many times when I was younger; to visit relatives, explore the country and experience new things.  I loved going there.  We went hiking, camping, and cloudberry picking.  We skied in the winter.  My uncle Olav made us beautiful little crafts out of wood and birch bark in his workshop.  The sun stayed up almost all night during the summertime.  I fell in love with heart shaped waffles and homemade strawberry jam, Firkløver chocolate, vanilje saus, reindeer stew and even boiled potatoes.

Norwegian culture, language and life were threads woven through the cloth of my Canadian childhood; at Christmas we celebrated ‘little Christmas Eve’ on December 23, we ate peeled shrimp for dinner and kromkake for dessert, and we received gifts from Jul Nissen too.  We celebrated the 17th of May, the Norwegian national holiday, and planted Norwegian flags in the garden.  Sometimes we had fish balls from a can for dinner (if you weren’t careful you might mistake one for a boiled potato on the other side of your plate).  My mother made fresh bread, weekly.  We never had store bought bread.  She also knit us Norwegian sweaters and mitts, the envy of all my friends.

In later years, when I began traveling to World Cups, it was a treat that we raced frequently in Hamar, Norway, the site of the Winter Olympics in 1994.  Friends and family would travel to Hamar to watch me race and after racing I would inevitably get invited to dinner and they would always serve fruit salad with my favourite – vanilje saus.  I used to buy boxes of the stuff and bring it home to Canada.  I drove my teammates nuts by raving about the superiority of all things Norwegian.

At some point Norwegian television caught on that I was half Norwegian (I’m pretty sure one of my relatives made an anonymous phone call) and every time I raced they would announce this at the rink and on TV and I would get an extra loud cheer.  On TV they would sometimes say that I merely had Norwegian ancestors, which drove my relatives batty.  “Nei nei!” they would cry, “Henne mor er Norsk!!”  They wanted me to skate for Norway.  I could have too; I have Norwegian citizenship and could live there if I so choose.

I feel a palpably strong connection to my Norwegian roots.  I love everything about it and feel so lucky every time I get the chance to go; it feels like home too.  The news of the horrific events of last week pierced my heart with a devastating blow.  Images of places I’ve been, now destroyed, shocked my senses.  Listening to the updates and learning new facts about the attack and its motivation left me saddened and heartbroken.  How could this happen?

It was doubly shocking because of what I know about the Norwegian people and their society.  Norway is a peaceful country, home of the Nobel Peace Prize, ever-present at NATO and global peace negotiations and has one of the lowest crime rates in the world.  The standard of living is high, health care and education are major priorities.  They are open to those who come from war-torn and poverty stricken nations, offering a better life.  For someone to attack them for being this way is beyond me, and thankfully beyond pretty much everyone else of sound mind.  It is a beautiful country and a beautiful place to live.

I am heartened, proud even, of Norway’s stalwart response to the attacks.  “We will not be broken, we will not retaliate, we will not be afraid.”  That they will strive to become even more open, free and accommodating speaks to their strength and their belief in democracy.  It’s no wonder people want to live there.

It’s easy for an idealist like me to get disillusioned by the endless problems we seem to face these days.  Local, global, social, environmental, political, economical…  A tragedy such as this paints a bleak picture.  How are we going to fix this?  Thankfully I’m reminded of the capacity for change: by idealistic youth in Norway, motivated to create a better future, some tragically killed by a misguided madman, survived by others who vow to continue their work.

Whenever we discuss any sort of geographical subjects, my boyfriend Scott likes to remind me (often) of the minor in Geography he earned in university.  He told me once they learned that Norway is like a little Canada; they share similar geography and an abundance of the same natural resources.  I like to think it goes beyond the physical; we also share similar social values like democracy, education, health care and open arms to others seeking a better life.  And for me, it’s personal.  I share a love of both and feel at home in both too.  That I have three places where I feel at home is a blessing.  That two are in Canada and one is in Norway is luckier still.

Truth be told, there are a lot of things I do like about Calgary (chinooks, mountains, the new mayor, Kensington, farmers markets, long summer nights, friends…) and some things I don’t like about Ottawa (winter slush… is that really all I can think of?)  I’ve lived in Calgary as long as I have in Ottawa.  I’ve never lived in Norway.  But they all feel like home.  Somehow a tragedy in Norway, innocence lost in a beautiful place, and a devastated people forever changed, has not only saddened me but also made me rethink what home really is.

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One afternoon in May I came home to find an unusual message on the answering machine.  It was from a man who had read a recent article in the paper about me and was calling because he was curious about ‘the Right To Play’.  The article in the paper he was referring to was about a wonderful award I recently won from the University of Calgary – the Graduate of the Last Decade – and it included a little bit of information about me and some of the things I’ve done, including my contributions as an athlete ambassador for Right To Play.

It was an older gentleman calling, I figured him to be in his seventies at least, who had tracked down my phone number and requested that I return his call so I could answer his questions about the Right to Play.  It’s safe to say that I don’t get a lot of strangers calling me with regards to articles about me in the paper, so this was intriguing to say the least.

That night I attended a play with my friend Sabina and told her about the strange message, over which we shared a little chuckle.  She suggested that maybe he was calling because he was a generous old man who wanted to make a sizeable donation to Right To Play.  Up until that moment I wasn’t sure I would call him back, but the prospect of this being true, along with a healthy dose of curiosity, led me to return his call the next day.

Phil Streifel, Calgary's longest serving barber, recreational speed skater and avid slo-pitch player

It took a few moments for 91-year-old Phil Streifel to remember that he had called me and what he had called me about, but once everything was cleared up the conversation began in earnest.  After some brief introductions and friendly chit chat where I learned that Phil, the longest serving barber in the city of Calgary, likes to go speed skating at the Olympic Oval during the winter, I eventually brought it around to his questions about Right To Play.  I explained, at length, that Right To Play is an athlete-driven humanitarian organization that uses sport and play as tools for development in some of the world’s most disadvantaged countries.  Working predominantly in African, Asian, South American and Middle Eastern countries, Right To Play has been instrumental in improving the lives of hundreds of thousands of children over the last ten years.

There was a pause, during which I imagined of a dense cloud of question marks forming above Phil Streifel’s head.  It seemed that this was not what he’d hoped to hear.  After this brief silence, Phil began to tell me the seemingly unrelated story about how he had been playing slo-pitch in Calgary since 1971.  He spoke at length about many of the interesting aspects of his 40-year career in the sport of slo-pitch and his previous years in the sport of baseball, including the league he played in, his strengths as a player, the friends he had made and just how much he loved to play the game.

Now, this left me scratching my head as I sat there listening, at my desk, phone in hand, with my own giant cloud of question marks floating above me.  What on earth was he talking about and what did his slo-pitch career have to do with Right To Play or me?  I sat there, staring at the wall, with a furrowed brow, shaking my head and my free hand waving around questioningly.  After several polite ‘uh-huh’s’ and ‘hmmm’s’ and ‘that’s interesting’s’ I wasn’t really sure what to say.

At this point Phil began to tell me about a recent meeting where the Calgary slo-pitch league he played for had held a vote and it was decided that Phil was too old to play and that for his own health and safety, and that of other players, he would no longer be allowed to play the game.  He said, “Can you believe that? I’ve been playing slow-pitch for forty years, and I know what I’m doing!  And now they’re saying I’m too old and I might get hurt! Well, I could get hurt just walking across the street! And I’m good too, I can still move and make plays!”

It occurred to me then, and my heart shamefully sank for just a moment, that Phil Streifel had not called me with the intention of making a sizeable donation to Right To Play, but instead he had called because he thought that Right To Play could help him get back on his slo-pitch team.  My heart broke just a little bit, but I also smiled, as I pictured this sweet old man, until now a complete stranger to me, on the other end of the line, his hopes dashed at the news that this Right To Play was a world apart and three generations away from what he needed.

Once I got over myself and the selfish expectations I’d had, I shared my heartfelt dismay and sympathy and quite frankly, my indignation, at his unfortunate and unfair dismissal from the slo-pitch league.  Should we all be so lucky, not only to live until the age of 91, but also to thrive and endure and play slo-pitch!

I apologized that unfortunately I, and by extension Right To Play, would not be able to help him but I wished him well in his mission to be reinstated as a valued and enthusiastic member of the slo-pitch league.  His appeal was underway and he said if he had to go public to garner support he would.  He also told me the story of a 65 year-old player who was accidentally struck in the head with a ball and ended up with a concussion, and while that was unfortunate, he himself had been playing so long and was adequately spry that such an incident would not likely have happened to him.  I have no doubt this is true.

A number of weeks later I remained curious if he had won his appeal, so I decided to give him a call to find out what happened.  He wasn’t home so I left a message on his machine, one I suppose he might have found unusual.  Still no word back but I hope it’s because he’s too busy out on the field, playing the game he loves, exercising his own right to play.

p.s. for more about Phil Streifel click here and here

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It’s not every day you get an email from Yoko Ono.

Yoko Ono and John Lennon

Imagine my surprise then, as I found myself, on the eve of my Calgary Bed-In for Sustainability, rolling over the 14th green in a golf cart at the recent Right To Play charity golf tournament in Canmore, when I answered a phone call from my friend Russell asking if I’d checked my email recently. I replied that, no, of course I hadn’t checked my email, and, that if he didn’t mind, I was putting for triple bogey, so could we talk later?

The surprise came when he told me excitedly that I’d just received an email from the mother of the Bed-In herself: the one and only Yoko Ono. I didn’t make the putt.

Somewhere, in that mysterious place where all the ones and zeros line up, Yoko Ono caught wind of what I was planning to do and her assistant tracked me down to pass on this note:

“Kristina, Congratulations for your courage and wisdom. I love you! yoko”

Considering the apprehension I felt in sticking my neck out for something I care about in such an unusual fashion, this email, from someone rather well versed in sticking one’s neck out, gave me a feeling of confidence and relief that this was indeed a good idea.

But I was still nervous that it might not go well, or that Calgary wasn’t interested or ready to hear what we wanted to talk about. And having just motored out to Canmore for a grand round of 18, even if in support of my other favourite cause, Right To Play, I was worried people might start to dissect my every move, ready to pounce on anything I’ve ever done that could be attributed to environmental destruction of some sort to which they could claim any degree of hypocrisy. Well, unfortunately I think just being born in Canada takes care of that.

Friends from the Coalition for a Healthy Calgary dropped by in some interesting costumes.

It ended up being one of the most interesting days of my life. You might think that after a full day in bed I would feel rested and relaxed, but the non-stop conversation and activity left me feeling utterly exhausted. I was, however, also left feeling inspired, informed and encouraged. In spite of the seemingly impossible task of tackling the colossal environmental issues present throughout this city, everyone I met throughout the day was a shining example of someone striving to make change happen, no matter how big or small.

After spending the better part of my life striving to simply skate faster, it was illuminating to learn about the work people all around me are doing to improve their neighbourhoods, challenge their local officials, and clean up some of the mess we have made. My world grew just a little bit. But then, it was not a day about me, rather it was a day about connecting with the community and having huge conversations with people I have never met about something that affects every single one of us, whether we care to admit it or not.

My first question to most people was what they thought the word ‘sustainability’ means. It was generally agreed upon by everyone I spoke with that the word ‘sustainability’ is not the best word we could use to inspire people to listen or act. It has been claimed by everyone from big government to the oil industry and environmental groups to economists. It’s the sustainability bandwagon and everyone is jumping on.

The problem is that the word can be used in so many ways, both in terms of its definition and the broad range of topics it can describe. Dr. Noel Keough, a professor from the University of Calgary Faculty of Environmental Design, conceded that we’ve developed a tendency to gloss over when we hear the word. It’s a catchphrase, a buzzword, a misnomer even, that seems to have lost it’s meaning. We’ve heard it so often we don’t even know what it means anymore.

What exactly are we sustaining? Should we sustain infinite economic growth or infinite oil and gas exploration? Should we sustain where we are at or should we be striving to change direction? Many people defined it as using only what you really need, but then the problem becomes thinking we need more than we actually do. We need a better word.

Another question I asked each guest was: What is the biggest challenge that Calgary is facing in trying to become a more sustainable city? Here’s what we’re facing:

• poor urban planning and the endless annexation of new land for suburban development
• too much provincial control over municipal finances
• car centred infrastructure
• excessive energy usage
• lack of concern or sense of urgency from governments and individuals
• cynicism
• my personal favourite: nimble minds promoting rational inaction

Gary Beaton from the Calgary tour de nuit Society shows examples of cars vs. bikes vs. bus. Which takes up the least amount of space?!

This is a complex issue of course, and the challenges start with governments who are either diabolically opposed to the climate change issue or too afraid to take risks and end with individuals who either don’t care at all or have given up thinking they can make a difference. Not very inspiring is it?

My next question was: What are some solutions to these problems? A little snapshot of the responses:

• have the courage to get involved in politics
• use social media and marketing to inspire individual behavioural change
• lead by example
• start small: leave the car at home one day a month
• retrofit your home to reduce energy costs
• bike lanes please!
• provide an incentive for the better option
• be more thoughtful about the choices you make

A lot of us know these things inside and out, but we don’t always do it. Why is that? According to Gerald Wheatley from Bow River flow, it’s because the carrot hanging in front of us to do the wrong things is HUGE. For many of us energy is too cheap, the train is too inconvenient, biking is too hard, we want huge houses that need to be filled with stuff, and we’ve been conditioned from day one to believe that this is all normal and okay. The lack of any sense of urgency is rooted in the fact that day to day we don’t really see the problem and this attitude is continually perpetuated by the ‘willful ignorance of the wealthy’. Pretty harsh words, but not without reason.

In bed with Dr. David Swann, leader of the Alberta Liberal Party

Although everyone I spoke with had amazing things to say, the conversation I had with one person who was particularly memorable and inspiring was Dr. David Swann, the leader of the Alberta Liberal Party. I haven’t met many politicians in my day and I’d have to say that, like many people, I’ve grown a little disheartened by many I’ve seen on tv. But Dr. Swann, who is a soft-spoken, thoughtful, brilliant man, was about as genuine and passionate as it gets about the work he is doing. Although he is endlessly paddling against the current and rarely heard amid the sea of blue that washes over this province during every provincial election, he is doggedly determined to make change happen. See part of our conversation here and here.

I have a good deal more thinking to do about this day, and a lot more information to comb through to fully appreciate what I experienced and what can come of it. The end game of this event is to present a report to Calgary Mayor Naheed Nenshi. Dr. Swann said, ‘why stop there? You should send this to Stelmach and Harper. You need to think big.’ It never occurred to me to think big. I thought it would be best to start small. I guess it’s both. New to do list: leave car at home once a month and send report to Prime Minister Stephen Harper. Stay tuned!

My last question to each guest was: Are you optimistic or pessimistic about the future of this city? Everyone was enthusiastically optimistic about the future because they’ve seen first hand the change they themselves have inspired. I’m increasingly optimistic that change is possible, over decades likely, because now I’ve met many of the people working down in the trenches, doing the work, making a difference.

So, did we change the world in a day? In a word, no. But in some ways, the world changed a little for me. And that’s a start.

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In 1969, during the Vietnam War, John Lennon and Yoko Ono held two week-long Bed-Ins for Peace in Amsterdam and Montreal, which were their non-violent ways of protesting wars and promoting peace. It was a memorable event, iconic even, representative of how one voice can be the voice of millions, heard by millions. The success and impact of the event is debatable, but one thing is certain, their voice was heard.

The Bed-In has since been re-created, re-interpreted and re-used by many over the years, in protests of various kinds by a number of artists since 1969. Well, I’m no artist and I’m not making a protest but the opportunity to take a stand and raise my voice for something I care about is what this event is all about.

In the spirit of John Lennon and Yoko Ono, I’m bringing the Bed-In to Calgary. I’m not protesting war, or promoting peace, instead I’m using the Bed-In to highlight another issue that affects us all: the future of our city and our world.

On June 24th I’ll be hosting the Bed-In for Sustainability with my friends at the Obasan Mattress shop in Kensington.  Obasan has graciously allowed me to use their beautiful new store with the bed in the window to stage this Bed-In for Sustainability. Joining me will be several community leaders in the sustainability movement to share their insights and ideas about making Calgary a more sustainable city.

You’re welcome to join us too. Stop by the Obasan store at 106A 10th St. NW in Kensington anytime in the afternoon to see what it’s all about.

In the 16 years years I’ve been living and training in Calgary I’ve seen it transformed from a small-ish city in the West to a mega-sprawl, cosmopolitan, traffic-ridden, smoggy and congested, yet prosperous, dynamic, vibrant and innovative city with loads of potential. With the recent election of Mayor Naheed Nenshi I feel more optimistic than ever that Calgary can remain prosperous, dynamic and vibrant while tackling the issue of sustainability. I look at massive cities like Chicago, Seattle and Copenhagen and see the amazing things they have accomplished in such a short time, like inner city on-street bike lanes, green roofs on office towers, city-wide composting, green space revitalization and so much more, and I know that we can do the same in Calgary.

We’ve been slow to start, but the potential is there.

I’ve made some progress in reducing my own personal impact; by installing a new high-efficiency furnace, low-flush toilets, energy star windows, a front-load washer, and a smaller energy efficient refrigerator, by composting, ditching the clothes dryer, replacing light bulbs with CFLs, riding my bike, buying local meat and produce when possible, choosing Bullfrog Power, and a low-flow shower head… with much success.  Our little house only uses on average 170 kWh of electricity, 4-6 cubic metres of water and 2-7 GJ of natural gas each month, significantly below the national household averages of 800 kWh, 26 cubic metres and 3-23 GJ of natural gas each month.

And I joined up with Clean Air Champions to reach school kids and deliver the message about the issue of climate change and air quality. I signed up to David Suzuki’s Play it Cool program for athletes to offset carbon emissions from travel.  I helped establish a Sustainability Committee for Speed Skating Canada.

But lest you think I’m tooting my own horn, let me tell you, I’m no saint. Far from it in fact. I’m well aware of the impact my occupation has on the planet. I fly all over the world to race in circles inside massive, artificially refrigerated indoor speed skating arenas. I sometimes drive to places when I know I could bike or take the train. When I renovated the bathroom some of the leftovers went to the dump. I buy stuff I don’t always need. And why do I make these choices? Because it’s often just plain easier to jump in the car, throw stuff out or throw down the plastic. Somehow, no matter how little I drive, what improvements I make to my little house, or what kind of food I buy, none make up for the massive toll my lifestyle has on the world around me.

But what if became easier to make a better choice? Where jumping on the train is easier, faster and cheaper than taking the car, or renovating an old bathroom means having easy places to recycle or reuse old materials, or where the things you buy last forever? The great thing about Calgary is that it is constantly changing. There is so much potential for this city to grow in a sustainable, intelligent and progressive way that will make it easy for people to choose sustainability.  Complete streets, bike lanes, work where you live, community shared agriculture, public transit and so much more can, and should, become a natural part of our lives – where you don’t even question car vs. bike because it’s so obviously bike.

So, the Bed-In. The idea is to have a conversation. A conversation about ideas and solutions. A conversation to determine a vision and establish a goal for what we think this city could become. A conversation about how we can choose to make that choice so easy it’s not even a choice anymore.

When I first started speed skating I was terrible. I mean really terrible. I was a skinny, weak, awkward little kid with gangly limbs. But I had potential. And over the next twenty years I transformed myself into one of the best speed skaters in the world. You have to start somewhere, and to you, Calgary, I say let’s start today. It may take twenty years but we just might end up being one of the best cities in the world.

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Many thanks to my brother Erik for getting me onto the work of Norwegian photographer Terje Sorgjerd.  He uses time lapse landscape photography to make breathtaking ‘videos’ of this stunning earth. We ought to do more to preserve it.  His latest piece is called ‘The Arctic Light’.  For more amazing work by Terje click here.

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