It was after 8 pm on January 16th when I got a message on Instagram from Courtney.
“Hey! I’m helping to start this new league in London, ON. Can you pass it along? Appreciate it so much.”
What you need to know about Courtney is her gift at connecting people.
She hosts a book club with her wife Pam. I’ve met so many great people there.
Before that, always invites from Courtney to go skating, play soccer, baseball? So many things.
I had met her many years ago when her ex and I worked together at The AIDS Committee of London. We didn’t know each other very well but appreciated each other’s vibes.
Knowing how good she is at bringing people together I was happy to amp up the posts for Queer Hockey London.
Before I knew it, all the people I knew in the community were talking about it. Even at my physiotherapist!
I was thrilled when the call went out for a game at the arena at Western Fair on Saturday March 7th. Admission was free with an option to support the Queer Food Bank run by PFLAG in London, Ontario.
I went with Michel and our eldest, Oli. We saw so many old friends. Those students on placement 15 years ago? Here with partners AND BABIES! So many wonderful people from babes in arms to seniors.
The audience was friends and family of players but also random community members just there for the fun.
Puck drop at center ice. Photo by Dana Nosella, used with permission.
People were handing out pride flags to waive. There was an inflated rainbow unicorn running around who was later joined by a dinosaur. There were pompoms! My roller derby friend Dawn was playing tunes.
Everyone cheered for each goal, regardless of team. Yay!!
A happy hockey player smiles at the camera. Photo by Dana Nosella, used with permission.
There was a lot of social media coverage as well as radio and our local London Free Press
I swear to you when last I fussed with my commuter bike in December I hadn’t resolved a shifting issue. Yet when I dusted it off this week the cable was perfectly aligned.
The Shimano internal gears has a diagnostic setting. You put it in fourth and two dots appear on the rear sprocket. You adjust the cable tension to align them. But. Uh. When I checked it was perfect.
I had avoided biking in to work a couple times in February because I thought I still had a mechanical issue to deal with.
It’s so weird.
I biked in 3 times this week and it felt really good.
Wednesday was foggy in the morning and gloriously sunny in the afternoon.
Thursday was damp in the morning and very wet in the afternoon.
Friday was damp.
But no snow. No ice. Easy riding.
I’m kicking myself for not riding in February but it was a good reminder of how my brain lies to me.
I need to check the facts because I am not always a reliable reporter.
A rear wheel of a bicycle looking shiny in the sun in front of green grass.
My butt is a little sore from 3 days in a row after 3 months of not riding. I’m the women’s local legend of The Colborne which is, quite possibly the shortest, flattest Strava segment in existence.
But hey. I’m out there doing my silly little rides and much happier for it. No thanks to my lying brain.
My beloved and I have both been struggling to get a minimum viable amount of sleep. Our brains betray us. Our backs hurt. Our dog Lucy is hyper vigilant and wants those 4 a.m. snow removal folks to know SHE SEES THEM.
We’ve limited caffeine to the morning. We are abstaining from alcohol. We stick to our wind down routine.
In bed, I pop my bite guard in my mouth and snap my CPAP on. Michel dons his eye mask with earbuds to listen to a bedtime meditation.
We have smart lights that go to warmer hues at night.
We have separate duvets, his is heavy and mine gossamer thin. I still sweat.
And our mattress needs replacing. She’s lumpy. Turns out foam mattresses don’t last longer than 5 years and she’s around 7?
So off we went shopping to find a queen size mattress. Our house is nearly 100 years old and the narrow staircase couldn’t accommodate our queen platform so we have a last minute rickety frame that came in a slim box.
We went in with a plan but somewhere along the line Michel started eyeing split king beds with mechanical frames.
I spoke in French to him cautioning that it would be easily triple the price of just getting a queen mattress.
We had done our research and knew we needed a hybrid mattress with coils and foam so that it would last.
We shared with the sales person that we had an older house.
He showed us some regular mattresses and I knew my budget was gone when we tried a half split king bed. It’s split at the top to allow each person to adjust the upper angle and the bottom moves as one.
I’m promised that the mattress is cooling. I forgot to mention the thrice nightly lather of sweat thanks to hot flashes.
The salesperson promised the mattress arrives in a box no bigger than a twin. The mechanical frame folds up, again into a twin sized package.
We switched to French for honest budget conversations then back to English with the salesperson.
I hope a non-lumpy, bigger bed with better temperature regulation will help me get more than my current average of 6 hours a night.
I go to bed between 9:30 and 10 pm. I get up between 6 and 7 am. I am awake several hours each night.
I will give it a month and let you know how the new bed works out!
A bed with lots of pillows promises a sweet, sweet night of sleep.
Joyce Lister (MacDonald) Sangster died on Wednesday after nearly 97 years on this earth. It’s easy to only see where a person is at when they die. It’s far harder to see them in their youth, especially when you didn’t know them then.
I’ve written often about Gran, our conversations and her influence on me.
You might think “what else could she possibly tell us that she hasn’t already?”
Well strap in for the long read, ‘cause I got a lot of tales to tell.
Basketball
Gran was a vibrant and active woman. She played high school basketball and went on to play in the McAdam village women’s team after graduation. She kept the picture of her and her teammates in the den. The uniforms had crisp collars and pleated skirts. It was the late 1940s after all. She would travel to Saint John and Fredericton for tournaments. The journey taking 4 or 5 hours as there weren’t highways at the time.
Skating
My earliest memories of her are helping me ice skate. We would watch figure skating in the 1980s and she would tell me about how the sport started out “well it was basically a little hop and coasting on one leg back then.”
She was steady and graceful on figure skates helping me learn turns and backwards moves.
Cross Country Skiing
She had wooden cross country skis that we would carefully wax. Anj and I would take turns with her, breaking trail on our modern plastic skis both in McAdam and when she lived in Aroostook.
Sometimes we would pick the wrong wax and Gran’s skis would get clumped up with snow. It was hilarious.
Downhill skiing
She and Grandad would take Anj and I to Mt Farlange to downhill ski. A luxury we would never have experienced without her interest.
Snowshoe
There was snowshoeing, toboggan rides and snow forts.
We had our choice of traditional wooden snowshoes. One design we called partridge feet, round on the front with a long tail out the back. This is more widely known as Huron design. The other pairs were aluminum bear paws, oval with lacing rather than gut. It always took a bit to find our stride but then we would run around the woods, floating on top of the snow.
Summer fun
Summertime with Gran meant swimming, rowing a dinghy and splashing along in the pedal boat at the camp on Oromocto Lake.
We would have family get togethers in July, near her birthday. At first it was the extended Sangster clan, including my great grandparents and all of their descendants. As time went on it was down to Gran & Grandad’s family.
These gatherings always included lawn darts, horseshoes and Croquet.
Walking
Gran was famous in retirement for her daily walks. Her morning route took her by most of my family on my Dad and Mom’s side.
It’s 1999 and I’m kneeling next to Gran. She’s sitting in a grey velour chair holding my oldest son, Oli. There are decorative plates in the background that today hang in my dining room.
A foodie before that was a thing
Besides being incredibly active and fit, Gran was an amazing cook. Her cookies and pies, delicious. She loved feeding people and dessert was served after every meal. Bacon and eggs for breakfast was completed with a donut. Lunch was followed by pie or squares. After dinner, ice cream or cookies.
Big family meals meant a mountain of mashed potatoes that she would not stop serving until we had all undone our waistbands, begging to stop eating.
Growing food and flowers
She loved to garden, growing vegetables and cut flowers. Gran decorated for every occasion and had brooches and outfits for Valentines, St Patrick’s…all the things.
Gran sits at the counter at my parents’ house holding my youngest kid, Jean. I know it’s Jean because Gran has a Christmas tree brooch on and Jean was born on Halloween.
Painting
Gran was an avid oil painter. I would sneak photos of her works in progress. Gran always found fault with her pieces but I was in awe.
Two paintings, one of chickadees the other birch trees along a pond. Four paintings. A red and white light house, a grey barn in a snow covered field, a red covered bridge and a fall stand of trees in browns and oranges. A scraggly note says “Gran’s Artwork 85/86”. I clearly don’t take after Gran in the penmanship department.
Crafting and Gifting
Gran knit, sewed and was generally crafty. She sent me a Christmas card and birthday cards for my whole family every year. Her beautiful script would be accompanied by stickers and a bit of cash. She loved hearing what we bought.
No hugs!
Things I wish were different with Gran. I wished I gotten her hugging more and saying “I love you”. She was very reserved, stoic even. Quick to smile and laugh, she was not demonstrative and neither are her children. I’ve taken up the cause of addressing the hug deficit in my family, much to the chagrin of most.
Gran, my dad, Oli is in my arms. We are outside of my hobby farm in Aylesford NS in the summer of 2000.
The last few times I saw her Gran no longer recognized me. Sometimes she thought I was my mom or another long lost relative or friend. While I thought I had said my goodbyes and that I was ready, it turns out I really wasn’t. I’m so sad for the lost time. She was an immense figure in my life despite being a very tiny woman.
In case you do know our family and want to leave condolences I’ve included her obituary.
I do love the Olympics but I’m especially enamored with the Winter Olympic Games. I joke it’s about hurtling down mountains and doing complicated things on ice. It’s INTENSE.
Olympic rings against a blue sky
I remember the first time women’s hockey was in the Olympics, 1998. I was just out of college, newly married and completely obsessed with the hockey tournament.
The women on that first national hockey team were absolute legends and Canada has built a reputation for excellence ever since.
The competition is small as few nations can put forward a women’s team. This will likely change as the Professional Women’s Hockey League will continue to generate excitement and opportunities in women’s hockey.
Canada is playing Germany in the quarterfinals today. I can’t wait. I will spend most of this long weekend crafting and cooking while hockey is on.
A hockey net sits on the ice in an arena.
I do love in this era of streaming I can seek out and watch all of the women’s events. The CBC Gem app is a godsend. Women’s events are no longer relegated to the prime time highlight reel, they are front and center. Go sports!
A bare road on the left and a 30 cm layer of frozen slush runs up the bike lane. You know it’s a bike lane because there is a higher pile of snow to the right and there are white lane markers sticking out.
Friends, we have had a very snowy winter in London. I was so happy to see Diane’s post on Thursday that she is out and about on her bike.
My bike is in the garage. I keep thinking “maybe next week?”
In the mean time, my beloved and I had our basement renovated in January. This limited our workouts to some dumbbells in the living room.
Today I’m mopping the floor and getting set up for indoor spinning.
My lower back is a mess at the moment so I’m not looking for personal bests, just getting in the saddle for some easy rides.
And likely shoveling more snow. Apparently that will keep happening.
Nat peaks out from behind the snowbank at the end of her driveway. It’s mostly above her head. She is waving both hands in red mittens. Her hair, eyebrows and lashes are covered in frost. She is smiling like a kid in her green parka because this is a silly amount of snow.
My lower back is often tighter than I realize. My massage therapist kindly reminds me to keep walking, lifting and stretching. It usually keeps things decent.
My last physiotherapy appointment I asked Emily if we could assess my right hip. It was very painful after swimming last week.
Emily asked me a bunch of questions then set about assessing my hip and back. I stood on one leg, then the other. I did side bends. She then had my lay on my back and put my leg in various positions asking me to press or pull.
“Ok. Now I want you on your stomach and just go into a baby cobra as relaxed as possible.”
The pain went away. Yet another moment of “what I go in for is not the issue”. Translated pain is the name of my game.
So I’m on a tummy time routine with hourly baby cobra. It’s definitely working.
No more hip pain but WOW is my lower back screaming day and night.
It’s frustrating as I continue to chase one petty injury after another.
Looking back there have been many things to irritate my lower back.
My fall in December , walking in snowy conditions, less strength and cycling and, oh yes, shoveling a shit tonne of snow the past month.
It’s the injury of desk jockeys, those of us with extremely sedentary jobs.
“But Natalie!” you exclaim, “you are a very active person!”
Not farmer active. Not contractor active. I’m active around an 8 hour day of sitting. So I’m using the standing option as much as possible. I change up where I’m meeting. I use stretch brakes. Walking commutes.
While I am frustrated at always being in physiotherapy for something I’m grateful I can access expert care.
It’s tempting, laying here writing to just stop doing everything. But I know it will only make the pain and my quality of life much worse. So. Baby cobra and being kind to my back it is.
My beloved and I are both cajoling our middle aged bodies these days. Our physiotherapist, Emily, recommended rock climbing or swimming for our upper body mobility and strength.
Monday morning we sat drinking coffee and looked at our options. Family membership at the Y runs $180 a month. Goodlife pools are not for doing lengths.
Membership at Western for both of us ran about $1000. Yikes!
Thankfully for people looking for once a week lane swim the City of London has 10 visit pool passes and a convenient location just a couple clicks from our house which runs about $5 a week.
Indoor pool lanes are so calming and comfortable.
Monday night we got goggles, cap and suits. Wednesday night we were doing laps. Easy peasy.
I love swimming and I feel at home there. It may be almost 10 years since I last did a lap. My body remembers.
Warm up of kicking and pulls. Easy front crawl. Breast stroke. Pulls. Front crawl. Breast stroke. I didn’t focus on speed or distance, just form and breathing.
I cooled down with sidestroke, sculls and a quick stretch. Michel had more structure to his workout. We left satisfied and committed to going back next week. Yay!
I’m so grateful to have extended health benefits that help me access physiotherapy, chiropractic and massage therapy services. My midlife body is more mobile for it.
Wednesday night I was on the massage table in agony as my skilled RMT Kiet was working on my calves. There were knots. Knots upon knots. The back of my knees where hamstrings attach, knots. My glutes, top, bottom, sides knots. Agony. I cussed.
“Any chance you are up on your toes when walking these days? Are you tip-toeing through the snow?”
Kiet is very wise. Yes, my strategy for slippery conditions is to be more on the ball of my foot rather than the usual heel strike and roll to toes walking.
“Uh ya, I try to walk like a penguin but it’s more like a velociraptor.”
He laughed.
“Ok so definitely stretch calves and hamstrings after walking and try to find more heel striking movements.”
Oh ya. And I’m motivated to stop being a velociraptor because OWIE.
I often have tight calves. I know daily negative heel drops and calf raises are necessary. Do I let it slide? All the time.
So my walking commute home on Friday I looked for moments to lengthen my stride, focus on a heel strike and full range of foot motion.
I hope next month to feel more fluid and less stiff.
The weather in Southwestern Ontario has been mercurial. One day rain and 12C, the next freezing rain, then snow, then rain. You get the idea. It’s what we call in these parts a “wintery mix”.
With the barometer fluctuating any joint I’ve injured starts a conversation with me. My right knee gets cranky when it rains. My right hip reminds me of a fall in December. Lots of biomechanical feedback. So much so I didn’t walk in the worst weather. This is very out of character for me. I’m the one who wrote Nat decides she’ll weather the weather, whatever the weather, whether she likes it or not.
I do take advantage of opportunities to walk to physiotherapy, the chiropractor and work.
My commuter bike is tucked behind construction supplies awaiting me to adjust the shifting. I’ve been getting a lift. It’s been so gross out!
I’ve enjoyed the days where there is good footing and I have my little spikes for my shoes on me at all times. They are not great on my knees when the ice gives way to solid footing.
All of that to say, overall, I’m still averaging 9,500 steps a day, even taking it “kneesy”.
So here’s to navigating the rest of the season with self compassion and some stick-to-it-ive-ness
Nat smiled at the camera in a light jacket, a grey knit toque and a mustard yellow cowl.
