triathlon

Sunday June 24 at 12:45 pm, my father Charles and I began our short triathlon measuring 27 km from Waterloo to Cambridge, Ontario. Through this triathlon, additional funds for my upcoming one year mission trip to Uganda was sucessfully raised. Abiding by the seasonal law of the Northern Hemisphere, the sun emitted radiation and heat that our sunscreen-smothered bodies quickly absorbed. Equipped with five watter bottles, two maps, two hats, one bicycle helmet, one camera, one cell phone for emergencies, one first aid kit, one bicycle, one pair of rollerblades, and two pairs of running shoes, we began our two-and-a-half hour journey. We quickly learned that to change from bicycling to running, the cyclist would go ahead a few hundred meters where the cyclist would leave the bicycle, the helmet, and backpack, and proceed to run at which time the runner would then continue on bicycle. A rather efficient and effective system! Dodging some remnants of geese presence, we passed through the University of Waterloo soon coming to Waterloo Park. Cautiously stepping into my rollerblades, Charles slowly began gliding along the Iron Horse Trail. Admittedly, he quickly gained confidence and comfort as he bladed the five kilometers on this trail. Partway on the Iron Horse Trail (kilometer 7), our friend Barbara sat cheering us on! What a blessing to have fans! We ran and bicycled to Wilson Park where I excitedly packed my running shoes opting instead for my rollerblades. Gaining lost time from a few map checks, my dad and I soon found ourselves at the entrance to the Grand River Trail. Tall trees shadowed the sun, green leaves allowed a slight breeze to evaporate our sweat, and rocks cushioned our running feet and bicycle tires for the next five km. We then rollerbladed and bicycled through Doon Village, past Conestoga College to Homer Watson. This busy intersection was where Charles packed the rollerblades where they stayed sheltered from the pebbly roads for the remainder of the trip. Getting a head start, I began to lightly run down Homer Watson which soon became Fountain Street. Following Fountain Street until Riverside Park, we ran and bicycled exchanging positions twice. As I ran into Riverside Park with Charles bicycling beside me I appreciated the claps, cheers, and congratulations of family and friends. Thank you to the many who sponsored me during this triathlon. I particularly enjoyed reminding myself who sponsored the km on which I was running, bicycling, or rollerblading. There are few other stories to share so I will let some pictures disclose the beauty and fun of the triathlon:

Start: Our home in Waterloo

Km 1: Charles bicycling, Michelle running

Km 4: Charles running

Km 5: Michelle bicycling

Km 7: Our fan along the way! Michelle bicycling, Charles rollerblading

Km 14: Packing away the rollerblades after Michelle rollerblading, Charles bicycling

Km 18: Michelle running up the big, bad hill

Km 19: Charles bicycling down the big, bad hill

Km 21: Charles rollerblading

Km 22: Michelle getting ready for the last stretch of rollerblading

Km 22: Michelle rollerblading

Km 27: Finish at Riverside Park. Michelle running, Charles bicycling

Rehydrating after the triathlon.

adventures on a bicycle

Yesterday highlighted my last lengthy bicycle adventure with my father before I leave for Africa. I am writing this blog to honour the individuals agreeing to accompany me on these bicycle endeavours or who have hesitantly allowed me to pursue this activity, and as a reminder of the many bicycle adventures I have appreciated during the past seven years. Beginning notably with the two-and-a-half day bicycle journey from Rodney to Waterloo, Ontario, my father and I initiated our seasonally appropriate bicycle trips. Among the countless trips, my father and I have:

- tested the limits of the unity of our aerobic and muscular capacities in the steep hills near Talisman, Ontario while abruptly being reminded of our inability to control the hydrological cycle

- explored extensively the gravel roads and rocky trails of Collingwood, Blue Mountain and beyond including parts of the Blue Spruce Trail, using our sense of spontaneity and my need for off-road detouring and adventuring

- disappointingly retreated from Luther Marsh in search of longer, more challenging bicycle routes

- appreciated the beauty of Grand River and surrounding small villages using a slower and environmentally sensitive mode of transportation

- battled each other up and down hills, mostly resulting in me defeating him to the top only to realize his speed downhill supersedes mine

- too frequently confirmed our geographical location on a map then discover we've actually traveled much farther than anticipated

- covered more kilometers in tourist populated areas on bicycle than attainable inside a motorized vehicle

In addition to my bicycle adventures with my father, I fondly remember my spontaneous early morning or afternoon bicycle explorations of Waterloo Region: leading me towards fertile agricultural land, being chased by property-protective dogs, pedaling harder to pass the relaxing cyclist or slow moving vehicle so that I could be accompanied with the powerful drugs known as adrenaline and endorphins, and more recently adopting a mountain cyclist perspective from within the forested area surrounding the landfill adjacent to the hydro lines only to realize the inadequacies of a simple bicycle to overcome geological formations. Last year was especially memorable because of my bicycle trip from Waterloo to Collingwood, a trip lasting no less than nine hours. A special thank you to Mom, Dad, and my sister Laura for being persuaded to allow me this privilege and for picking up my exhausted body at the end of the day, and an equally special thank you to Doug for energetically agreeing to bicycle with me!

And so, I am sad that next year will not permit me to continue this tradition with my father. Instead, I am praying I will befriend someone in Africa who will agree to share the joys of enduring a five hour plus bicycle trip, adventuring through the wonders of God's creation. Or, more favourably, I will be able to ascend the embankments of a mountain or numerous mountains in Africa. As some of you know, I promised myself that when I return to Africa I will climb a mountain. Even though Mount Kilimanjaro is especially appealing and must be climbed before the snow melts entirely, Mount Kenya has been recommended to climb. Hike anyone?

infection and safety

Imagine this situation: halfway through a fun yet competitive baseball game, the score is tied and players appear to be evenly matched. With a runner on first, the batter positions himself to take advantage of the strong winds, hoping the ball will effortlessly drop among the blades of grass in the outfield. The echoing sound of the bat contacting the ball is faintly heard because of passing automobiles on the neighbouring highway. Rounding second, the first base runner quickly judges the position of the ball in relation to the location of third base. With some confidence but complete commitment, the runner sprints towards third, realizing too late that the decision ignored the advice of the third base coach. To avoid being out, the runner must slide to third praying that the throw is delayed by a millisecond to ensure their safe arrival. The result:
Less concerned with the actual fact that I was safe, I became increasingly aware of the unique pain and sensations being emitted from the upper half of my lower left leg during the next few hours. Admitting the following morning that I had developed an infection , I began to experience unique sensual feelings from my leg. A small moving creature appeared to be inhabiting the surface below my skin, trying to claw an opening to escape. Foamy bubbles seemed to develop near my knee, gradually descending towards my ankle, then returning back to the comforts of my knee. I describe these sensations not to sound like I have defeated some grave illness and least of all to sound heroic, but to discuss the idea of release. Many of us have these abstract creatures lingering in our hearts, our minds, or our souls. Desperately wanting freedom, the creatures inflict pain on their guards. To be liberated, the creatures and the guards alike must unify in understanding that release is for the betterment of both entities. In comparison to us, that which inflicts pain needs to be released so that healing and fulfillment might be achieved. In other words, as I experience pain in all facets of my life, I realize that the creature must be rid or forsaken so that I can mature and develop as intended by my Creator.

The third baseman asked of me "Didn't your parents ever teach you not to slide in shorts?". Before I provide an answer, let me dissect the question. Being safe meant taking a risk. Arguably though, I recognize that complete safety, to which I refer as sheltering, would have meant staying on second and not furthering my opportunity for success. I knew within a few steps of third base that the only possibility of avoiding failure would be to risk my physical health. Thus, safety required risk. Sometimes, being uncomfortable or taking a risk or being challenged is mandatory to be safe or secure or successful. In other words, finding satisfaction and joy and bliss is imbued in experiences of pain, of disappointment, and of challenging other's advice. So, to respond to the third baseman, no my parents did not teach me to passively journey through life without ever extending beyond complete sheltering. Instead I must take a risk to experience safety.

I think I will take the advice of a ten year old: "Michelle, don't run. It hurts. You go see a doctor.", but not before I conquer the mountain bicycle trail through the hydro power lines; aptly referred to as the Hydro Cut.

music and concerts

Regrettably, I was unable to join my sister Laura and her boyfriend Doug as they sauntered beneath the melting sun this past weekend at Ontario Place. Attending the Christian Heritage Day, thousands of people happily splashed in the water, screamed on the rides, and wandered the acres at Ontario Place. Most significant, at least to my sister and myself had I been able to attend, was the concert and subsequent worship time guided by Hillsong United. Seated upon the inclined grass, Laura and Doug participated in the worship led by Hillsong. My only involvement with this particular concert was through the few photographs and video footage lovingly taken by my sister.

To those of you unfamiliar with Hillsong, I only wish I could immediately forward a CD to you. One of the dominant modern Christian worship teams, Hillsong originated in Australia and has grown immeasurably, planting worship teams throughout the world. Having produced countless songs and CDs over the years, Hillsong never fails to create new lyrics and music that reflect God's love, the sacrificial life of Jesus on earth, and the power of the Holy Spirit. Strongly equipped with musical gifting, leadership abilities, and a daily life imbued in the Spirit, Hillsong effectively ministers to people while worshipping and glorifying the Savior.

I mention the above as a sort of prelude to what I will soon experience and expect. Highly anticipating this evening, I will attend a worship service at a church tonite. Atypical of traditional and most modern services, Friday evenings boast of songs, dancing, clapping, other creative methods of worshipping God, profound confident prayers, intimacy with God, and a short challenging practical message, altogether lasting hours although incidentally this is not long enough. Although I embrace all these facets I personally await the music time. Ungifted in music, I nonetheless especially appreciate and enjoy the truth emitted through music. I conclude by encouraging you to unify with other people and together worship the Almighty.