‘’What a piece of work is a man! How noble in reason, how infinite in faculty! In form and moving how express and admirable! In action how like an Angel!’
HAMLET: Act II, Scene 2
I am a runner; it is as much part of the fabric of who I am as my green eyes, brown hair and ectomorph torso. My running has sustained my fitness, enhanced my health and heightened my sense of being alive. Over the years I have run thousands of kilometers on roads, reconnoitering runs through a myriad of foreign cities, and along mountain and cross-country paths in breath-taking beauty across the globe. Elizabeth Moore: she runs.
The Loop the Lake races (including a half marathon, 15km, 8km and children’s 1km) are set in quintessential Canadian scenery in the Alice Lake Provincial Park 35 minutes from our home off the Sea-to-Sky highway en route to Whistler. The course is technical and difficult; the path twists and turns over roots and rocks with angular bends sending runners in 90-degree directions. The cross-country course starts round the picnic area on the lake where the children's playground and bike path is located. The cross-country course loops the lake and then wends its way deep into the provincial park.
We have frequented Alice Lake at every opportunity since our arrival in Canada and have relished its tranquil beauty. We have watched the children swim in the warm lake in the summer – squealing with joy at the small fish. We have picnicked with visiting friends and family in the shadow of the snow-topped mountains. And, as the children got older, we as a family have walked and biked the extensive trails. In my mind’s eye I remember Erin running after Cameron who jumped off the dock into the clear lake water with his arm-bands keeping him afloat. I looked on from the grassy bank in horror as Erin followed – her 3-year-old frame launching in to the water with no flotation devices to suspend her. A man on the dock abandoned his lover and dived in – fully clothed – and lifted her on to the wooden planks only to ruefully realize his cell phone was in his shorts pocket!
The sun shone. The gentle winds blew. Life in our new land was good.
And so we returned for the first time to Alice Lake to run our race – another first without our girl – the memories vibrating. Our faithful friends, as always our moral support, were there to meet us with their girls to run the 1km in memory of ours.
The race begins:
…I can feel my heart pounding, my muscles flexing, my sinews expanding and contracting as I negotiate the twists and turns of the demanding technical course. My legs brace for the up-hills, the scaling of the near vertical rock-face. I can feel my breath heavy, warm and steady straining through the kilometers. My body is responsive to the demands to maintain the pace: go faster; pass the runner ahead. My mind holds fast, controls the execution of the rhythmic movement of limbs – the arms pulsing, the legs striding. It strains and reacts. I marvel at the body’s resilience to the demands - its execution of the commands. I feel joy and a connection with the earth, my feet negotiating the tree roots and rocks, ducking through the low-hanging bushes. I can feel Erin with me at each turn, at each pull of the muscles. She runs within me, alongside me, above me: she is me. The dust rises from the path. Dust to dust…
I wonder how can my body perform with mechanical accuracy the same repetitive motions of ten thousand runs while the stomach constricts and the same muscles throb with tension. How can this lean mean body machine house now so shattered a heart?
And I wonder why it is that this test of physical endurance, this resilience was not offered to my girl. Why did she not have an opportunity to show her mettle, her strength, her indomitable spirit? She rose above the challenge of three extreme asthma hospitalisations and a three-hour kidney operation in her tender first year; why could she not be offered the chance of defeating nature’s cruel cut in her almost eighth?
Erin was the epitome of resilience. Bill Harris describes resilience in Thresholds of the Mind as an emergence of innate abilities shaped by learning from experiences; resilience has a flexible response to whatever is happening. Resilience has traits which are a paradoxical two sides of the same coin: pessimism/ optimism; sensitivity/ toughness; distance/ friendliness; strength/ gentleness. Erin radiated these personal qualities and dichotomies. Resilience. Flexibility. Strength.
So I am learning now a new resilience for a new context. It wells within me, an unfathomable strength that in spite of the pain, the senselessness of the accident and the cavernous gap in our family that I will prevail. That we as a family will prevail. That our family will reconstitute itself once again. That the sun will shine. The gentle winds will blow. And that life in our not-so-new land may well be good again some day.
HAMLET: Act II, Scene 2
I am a runner; it is as much part of the fabric of who I am as my green eyes, brown hair and ectomorph torso. My running has sustained my fitness, enhanced my health and heightened my sense of being alive. Over the years I have run thousands of kilometers on roads, reconnoitering runs through a myriad of foreign cities, and along mountain and cross-country paths in breath-taking beauty across the globe. Elizabeth Moore: she runs.
The Loop the Lake races (including a half marathon, 15km, 8km and children’s 1km) are set in quintessential Canadian scenery in the Alice Lake Provincial Park 35 minutes from our home off the Sea-to-Sky highway en route to Whistler. The course is technical and difficult; the path twists and turns over roots and rocks with angular bends sending runners in 90-degree directions. The cross-country course starts round the picnic area on the lake where the children's playground and bike path is located. The cross-country course loops the lake and then wends its way deep into the provincial park.
We have frequented Alice Lake at every opportunity since our arrival in Canada and have relished its tranquil beauty. We have watched the children swim in the warm lake in the summer – squealing with joy at the small fish. We have picnicked with visiting friends and family in the shadow of the snow-topped mountains. And, as the children got older, we as a family have walked and biked the extensive trails. In my mind’s eye I remember Erin running after Cameron who jumped off the dock into the clear lake water with his arm-bands keeping him afloat. I looked on from the grassy bank in horror as Erin followed – her 3-year-old frame launching in to the water with no flotation devices to suspend her. A man on the dock abandoned his lover and dived in – fully clothed – and lifted her on to the wooden planks only to ruefully realize his cell phone was in his shorts pocket!
The sun shone. The gentle winds blew. Life in our new land was good.
And so we returned for the first time to Alice Lake to run our race – another first without our girl – the memories vibrating. Our faithful friends, as always our moral support, were there to meet us with their girls to run the 1km in memory of ours.
The race begins:
…I can feel my heart pounding, my muscles flexing, my sinews expanding and contracting as I negotiate the twists and turns of the demanding technical course. My legs brace for the up-hills, the scaling of the near vertical rock-face. I can feel my breath heavy, warm and steady straining through the kilometers. My body is responsive to the demands to maintain the pace: go faster; pass the runner ahead. My mind holds fast, controls the execution of the rhythmic movement of limbs – the arms pulsing, the legs striding. It strains and reacts. I marvel at the body’s resilience to the demands - its execution of the commands. I feel joy and a connection with the earth, my feet negotiating the tree roots and rocks, ducking through the low-hanging bushes. I can feel Erin with me at each turn, at each pull of the muscles. She runs within me, alongside me, above me: she is me. The dust rises from the path. Dust to dust…
I wonder how can my body perform with mechanical accuracy the same repetitive motions of ten thousand runs while the stomach constricts and the same muscles throb with tension. How can this lean mean body machine house now so shattered a heart?
And I wonder why it is that this test of physical endurance, this resilience was not offered to my girl. Why did she not have an opportunity to show her mettle, her strength, her indomitable spirit? She rose above the challenge of three extreme asthma hospitalisations and a three-hour kidney operation in her tender first year; why could she not be offered the chance of defeating nature’s cruel cut in her almost eighth?
Erin was the epitome of resilience. Bill Harris describes resilience in Thresholds of the Mind as an emergence of innate abilities shaped by learning from experiences; resilience has a flexible response to whatever is happening. Resilience has traits which are a paradoxical two sides of the same coin: pessimism/ optimism; sensitivity/ toughness; distance/ friendliness; strength/ gentleness. Erin radiated these personal qualities and dichotomies. Resilience. Flexibility. Strength.
So I am learning now a new resilience for a new context. It wells within me, an unfathomable strength that in spite of the pain, the senselessness of the accident and the cavernous gap in our family that I will prevail. That we as a family will prevail. That our family will reconstitute itself once again. That the sun will shine. The gentle winds will blow. And that life in our not-so-new land may well be good again some day.