O Canada!
Being an athlete has shown me what it means to be Canadian. I thought about this today, on Canada’s 142nd birthday, when out riding my bike. It was an easy training session that allowed me to listen to the birds, talk with a teammate about this and that, and think about Canada.
These thoughts began when my training partner, Kristina Groves, said ‘nice jersey!’ I looked down at the random jersey I threw on earlier in preparation for the ride. It was an old National Champion jersey I won back in the day. It looks like a Canadian flag. On Canada Day it happened to be the one I grabbed. Completely unintentional but definitely fitting.
We saw many other cyclists, runners and walkers out enjoying the crisp, clear morning. With a day off work for most people, I suppose they were just taking advantage of having the time to exercise. I liked to think they were all out celebrating Canada Day, but on the other hand, Kristina and I were out ‘working’.
I started thinking about my experiences traveling the globe with the maple leaf on my back. As a cyclist, I raced mainly in France. Time and again we found ourselves on the receiving end of random strangers telling us how much they liked Canada. These people mainly did not know us, nor were they interested in the sporting spectacles we took part in. They wanted to come to us as representatives of Canada with that bold red leaf on the backs of our jerseys to tell us what Canada meant to them.
Racing through many of the areas where, historically speaking, Canada fought for freedom, these impressions held a lot of weight. As a young person, it made me see that my country was indeed a special place.
Another time I spent five weeks training in Columbia. In preparation for the 1995 World Championships, we trained in a small town called Duitama. The elevation was up at 8,000 feet and because we were racing high, it was an ideal place for adaptation to the thin air. We got to know the people of the town and, as the days went by, word began to spread that there were a group of Canadians in the area. Soon enough, we had an invite for a celebration in a small village up in the surrounding hills.
Keeping in mind that we were in Columbia, and that each training ride we did was escorted by a soldier on a dirt bike with a machine gun strapped on his back, as well as the constant armed guard stationed by the government outside our hotel entrance, we were a little apprehensive to accept. At this point, however, we were bored out of our skulls and had been endeared by the locals so much that we thought, why not?
Under the setting sun we waited outside our hotel for planned ride to the village. Tinny music mixed with laughter and the sound of muffler-less vehicles filled the early evening air. As it became louder and louder, into view came the caravan of trucks, cars and tractors that was to be our ride. Each vehicle was adorned with colorful streamers and signs in spanish welcoming us; each face held a warm and welcoming smile.
We piled into the back of a large flatbed truck, laughing at ourselves for the apprehension we felt earlier. It would have, however, been really embarrassing to become another kidnapping statistic in a country suffering so much with the drug trade when we were picked up in such a boisterous manner.
As the gradients steepened and the driver found his last gears to navigate the twisty mountainous roads, we finally reached the tiny village glistening under the clear, starry sky. The high elevation made for some glorious star gazing and I remember being excited and curious as to what the evening would hold.
After music, dance, humble speeches and food, we were finally told why there had been such an effort to host ‘Los Canadiences’. In an heartfelt moment, the leader of the small village shared with us, in Spanish, that the village wanted to honor us that evening to say thank you to Canada. We heard, through a translator, that Canada had funded a machines for bread making that allowed this small community to get back on its feet. Only four years before there was despair and rampant poverty, and this equipment was just enough to get things going in a better direction. It was the stimulus that created the now thriving community. They heard that there were some Canadian ‘bicycle racers’ in the area and simply wanted to say thanks.
We sat there, speechless, and simply took it all in. Surrounded by kindness and representing something we knew existed – for we were all aware because of the news at home and history lessons that Canada was a peace-keeping and aid-providing country – I remember feeling so proud. I knew it had little to do with me, directly, but that day I saw the impact that help can give. However small.
That evening had a massive effect on me as a young person. I always felt the sporting world to be a selfish, insulated place, and began to see that there were indeed possibilities that went far beyond results. My actions, my caring and my giving were what began to be more important to me that any result.
Less than a year later, in my first Olympics, I remember like it was only yesterday the feeling of waiting for the gun to go off and the racing begin. I sat on the start line with about sixty of the best cyclists in the world. On that day, I felt more powerful than all of them combined. It was an energy I had never felt before. The mythology of the Olympics combined with that maple leaf on my back gave me a feeling of limitless possibilities. On that day that I had all of Canada inside of me. I had millions of people inside urging me forward, wishing me well, and giving me strength.
I’ve felt this each and every time I’ve had the privilege of competing for Canada at an Olympics. Summer and winter. No matter my form or results prior, I’ve felt this same sensation of utter motivation. In many ways, it is bigger and stronger than I will ever be.
I wish I could share an ounce of this energy with each and every Canadian. The best I can do is to try and put it into words.
Being Canadian to me means reaching out to others and sharing what I have. It means connecting to the human condition and contributing to in a positive way. This has inspired me transcend sport and success, and to connect to the reality of the suffering and difficulties so many in the world, including here in Canada, live daily in their lives.
Being the best is not enough.
Winning the Olympics in 2006 allowed me, in the best way imaginable, to live up to this ideal that I feel inside. The ultimate decision to dedicate that win to Right to Play and donate $10,000, and in turn have Canadians contribute to an organization that is truly changing the lives of hundreds of thousands of children on a daily basis, is what I consider the most important decision I’ve made in my life. Seeing the connection young people in Canada made to this action and how it connected youth to the reality that not all children have the opportunities they have is more valuable than the gold medal won. Goals are important, but isn’t it more important to use those goals, if you achieve them, to motivate and inspire others?
You do not have to be an Olympic Athlete to inspire. We all have this power to generate hope and dreams in others. Our actions deliver this inspiration and the time you give in reaching out and making a difference, where a difference needs to be made, is in my mind what true greatness is.
We are all a part of this image of Canada. Each of us can make this image reality by our capacity to reach out and have this impact.
As an athlete, I can’t quite believe that I get one more chance to do this on the Olympic stage. That this chance is here in Canada makes me feel extra special on this Canada Day.
