THE CRAZIEST WEEK OF MY SPORTING LIFE
After 18 years of traveling as an elite athlete, in two different sports, I thought I’d pretty much experienced it all. As a cyclist, I’d arrived in Europe the day before commencing 11-day long stage races feeling so spaced out from jet lag it was all I could do to keep up with the wheel in front of me for days, somehow surviving and not launching over a cliff on some nasty descent.
In 1994, we flew from the Commonwealth Games in Victoria, BC, overnight to Europe, arriving in our hotel above the crashing Mediterranean Sea in Sicily at 9pm, only to begin the World Championships Road Race the following morning at 930am…
As a speed skater, I’ve dealt with arriving only a few days before a world cup race, after traveling from Canada to Europe, feeling dazed and confused to the point of wondering while skating if I was actually going in the right direction (right being left-hand turns).
I have countless experiences such as these- it’s just part of being an athlete and racing on all sides of the globe. One adapts to feeling horrible with jet-lag and swollen travel legs as if it’s perfectly normal to feel this way. The most frustrating thing is that the European athletes have no clue as to what we go through on a regular basis to perform. On the rare occasion they have to travel to North America, or we all make the journey to Asia, one can hear them complaining about how hard it is with the jet lag. Well, cry me a river, welcome to my world: the world of the North American athlete in a European sport.
This past week has to take the cake for me. After returning from Italy on Monday the 4th, I was so happy to be home for the next 12 days- to sleep in my own bed, make my espresso just how I like it each morning, skate on the ice that I know and love and have my personal space back. It had only been two weeks, first in Norway and then Italy, but still it was wonderful to be home. So relaxed was I that I hadn’t even attempted to start the 6 or 7 loads of laundry waiting to be cleaned. It was already Wednesday.
Wednesday morning, while in a meeting at the oval, my mobile phone began ringing incessantly. Believing it rude to answer phones in meetings, I simply let it buzz and ring away in my purse. When all was said and done, I checked the phone only for it to ring again. It was my Coach, Xiuli, calling me from Germany to inform me that a teammate had to return home for a family emergency, and that I was being asked if I would like to come back and race the World All-Around Championships the following weekend.
Now, considering I had only skated once since the previous Saturday, had just traveled overseas and was faced with the prospect of getting on a plane and heading back over the Atlantic that very afternoon, the most obvious response would be great hesitation. Instead, I asked when I could leave, and then asked Xiuli what she thought. ‘I think you should come’ were the words I wanted to hear, and I called Speed Skate Canada to discover they had already booked a late afternoon flight.
Thinking I should probably skate at least once before leaving, and then arriving on Thursday to race Saturday/Sunday, I began a slow jog to warm up for the easy laps I was planning to skate. While jogging it occurred to me that things were not going to be as simple as this: I realized with shock that I had sent my passport to Toronto on the Monday night when I returned! I did this to have my Visa application processed for a trip to Ghana I am going on with Right to Play in the Spring.
I sprinted back up to the oval office and called Speed Skate Canada to tell them the problem. The passport was supposed to arrive that day in Toronto, before noon, and they thought it possible to have it sent back on freight in time for my departure for Germany. Now, all we had to do was wait.
I had three hours to do my laundry, pack, take the movies back I had just rented and get to the airport. The clean house I returned to a few days earlier looked to be hit by a tornado when I was finally ready. At 1pm Calgary time (3pm Toronto time), the passport had yet to arrive. We decided on a plan B that would fly me to Toronto, get a hotel, and wait until the next day when hopefully, the passport would show up.
After a sleeping-pill aided flight to Toronto (I figured it was best to sleep wherever, whenever I could, even if it meant knocking myself out), I was greeted with a major winter storm that slowed down the airport to a virtual halt. It took over two hours to get my bags and take the shuttle to the nearby airport hotel. I was lucky; many people were stuck with no rooms available. It was past midnight when I arrived.
At 4am I woke and figured the more I stayed on Euro time, the better. I went down to the exercise room and rode a horribly uncomfortable stationary bike for an hour, feeling good to at least sweat some of the airplane toxins out of my system.
The day went on, with breakfast, checking emails, packing up and otherwise occupying myself as I waited for the phone call that my passport had arrived. Noon turned into 1pm and with my flight departing at 510pm, I began to get nervous. This is when I realized I am not a very patient person. I had to do something, anything, to try to find the passport.
With complete faith that Speed Skate Canada and Right to Play were doing everything in their power to find the package that now was officially MIA, I began calling Canada Post. I still feel badly for each of the phone operators I spoke to, first of all asking them not to take any of my frustrations personally, and then going through the incredulous situation while getting more and more upset. I would put the phone down, calm down, sit for a bit, and then do it all again.
My file had the highest level of alert on it and all was being done to find the package. Still, this was not enough for me, and doubts that they were ever going to find the package legitimately began to creep in.
At 2pm, it was time to check out of the hotel and go to the airport, and wait. With no word from CP, I begrudgingly left the hotel. The nice man driving the shuttle helped me with my bags, and I decided to give him a big tip. It was for selfish reasons, as I thought perhaps; just maybe if there is such a thing as karma, I can buy a bit of it here.
I went straight to the check-in counter thinking ‘you never know until you try’ and began to explain the situation. This is when the tears began to creep in. The nice Air Canada lady looked at me with sympathetic eyes, and had to tell me that no, I would not be able to board to Frankfurt bound plane with only the copy of my passport which I had. She suggested that I go down to Canada Customs and ask their advice.
And so I went. The men at the Customs office were so kind. They looked on the internet and suggested getting an emergency passport at an office close by. Only, I had no birth certificate with me and it was already 330pm. With the check-in closing at 410, I knew my luck had all but run out.
I stood outside the customs office wondering if I should wait it out and get on a later flight to Europe, completely deflated. And then my mobile phone rang. It was Mark from SSC with the news I had been waiting for- they had located my passport and someone was driving it to the airport. Another call came in from Kathleen at Canada Post, telling me the news again and saying ‘good luck, kiddo!’
Roy from Canada Post would be there within 20 minutes, leaving me 10 minutes to spare before check-in closed. As I stood outside the terminal waiting for the silver car, another check-in lady came out and said ‘look, let me take your bags, ticket them, check you in, and then when you get the passport run here and we’ll send you through.
I greeted Roy with a big hug and thanked him profusely as I ran back in the terminal with passport in hand. I excitedly called Right to Play, Mark at Speed Skate Canada and Kathleen again at Canada Post to let them know I was through and going to make it.
It took two sleeping pills to knock me out on the flight overseas, and when finally arriving in Berlin midday on Friday, I could not believe I was actually there.
Everyone was interested in the ordeal but I had made an arrangement on the way over in my brain not to talk about it until the racing was over. It’s too easy to obsess about the bizarre, less than ideal circumstances that I was faced with. I realized if I wanted to have good races, and have that ability to suffer through the inevitable torturous efforts I was going to be facing, I would have to not give myself the crutch to lean of all that I had gone through to get there.
Instead, I focussed only on the incredible opportunity I had to race the world championships, and that I was really excited to do so. After completing the 500m, 1500m, 3000m and 5000m over the next two days, actually feeling pretty good in a few of the races, I sat down on the bench after the final and longest distance and let myself be tired. Exhausted, actually. That was able to perform as well as I did under the circumstances was a lesson I will never forget.
The most important thing in life is to have awareness when opportunities arise. Not to get caught up in all of the things that can drag you down and suck the spirit out of you. That’s what this weekend taught me, and I am so grateful that I was able to seize the day and have fun doing what I love most- and that is to race, to put myself on the line with the best in the world and see how I match up.
More than anything, I thought of my teammate and the family emergency she had to return home to. This reason that made me return is one that I would give anything to change, and my thoughts and caring go out to Cindy and her family.
