ASCENSION
Ascension: moving upwards in climbing and mountaineering; alt: the belief, in some religions, that a select few, favoured by G-d, have ascended to heaven without dying first.
onwards and upwards. another year has passed, and as another looms ahead, the associated ideas of upward motion, climbing mountains and averting death have particular relevance to me, as a human being and endurance athlete.
with five seasons and two ironmans under my belt, i am somewhere in that netherworld between latency and adolescence, in ironman terms. how lucky i am to be involved in a sport, where at the age of almost 45, i can reasonably expect five more seasons in which i can become stronger, smarter, fitter, and, ultimately, faster. as much as i have moments in which i regret that i wasn't doing this in my 30's, i am also glad for my late entry into the sport; it affords me a genuine fountain of youth, a chance to document in objective terms, an increase in my physical prowess, at a time in life when the vast majority of men have already entered well into the long, gradual, incessant and unyielding road of physical decay that leads towards the inevitable; old age and death.
i have read that an ironman ages your organs by 20 years in 10 hours. perhaps this is just journalistic sensationalism, and maybe there is some shred of truth in it, but i doubt it. what ironman does for the psyche, i am more sure of. it creates a sense of ascension, of moving up, even at a time in life, when, objectively speaking, i am probably past my "half-way point" and on the way down, both literally and figuratively. ironman keeps me feeling young. and, in keeping with the more mystical meaning of the word ascension, it brings me about as close to a deathless heaven as someone so profane as i could ever hope for. the irony is, that i get there, by confronting my limits and pushing myself though pain and discomfort.
i am bloated to bursting with this off season. i find myself missing pain, repetition and tiredness like they were long lost friends. more even. and furthermore, all this "leisure time" has brought with it a mental confusion born of false freedom. i seem to have, once again, lost awareness of where brilliance ends and banality begins. my armchair philosophizing is likely to be in high gear for the next week, until i am back at training once again. oh well, make the best of it, i say.
i recently took a family vacation that had nothing to do with racing or training. even though i exercised almost every day, it was just not enough to maintain my equilibrium fully and i found myself in a little heaven/hell of beer and curry driven apathy, taking long sleeps as tropical rains fell musically on the corrugated steel roof above my head. in between naps, i finally got around to reading a book that i had bought on my wife's kindle, almost two years prior. the book in question was aron ralstons "Between a Rock and a Hard Place".
this is where the mountain climbing part comes in. full force. i had watched the movie, 127 hours, during the winter of 2011, in the early stages of my Ironman Canada build. i was so inspired by his story that i posted a picture of ralston, standing atop a mountain, crotching the world and raising his prosthesis in the air, on my blog. i know it is cliche to say that the movie doesn't do the book justice, but in this case, it is also quite true.
one could easily come away from the movie with the impression that ralston was nothing more than a thrill seeking nature wahoo who realized his own brilliance through unpexpected tragedy. the book however, reveals a first class mountaineer with a philosophical bent. a guy who climbs over 5 thousand vertical feet and descends on skis on the weekend, and then runs a marathon, on his own, for the hell of it, on monday because he has a few hours to kill before work. ralston presents himself as endurance junkie, loner, philosopher and some kind of adrenaline hooked/childish/zen monk/mystic. i found myself identifying with ralston on many levels. i am sort of like a yuppy, wimpy version of ralston.
flashback: in my early 30's i took a trip to arizona, on my own. at first i stayed at a posh resort in scottsdale, but i lasted about one day by the pool before i rented a bike and rode several hundred kilometers around the desert roads behind camelback mountain over the next couple of days. i also went mountain biking through the papago park, where the ironman run recently took place. in the evenings, i ate spit chicken and cornbread from bandera, drinking wine by candlelight and smoking american spirits. (i was young) soon, i got bored and decided to drive to sedona, where i splurged on lodgings, staying at the enchantment resort, (vacation spot of presidents) for a week. i rented a mountain bike and spent hours riding local trails in the mornings. i bought my first and only camelback, a solid pair of hiking shoes and a guide to sedona trails at a local shop and i spent the afternoons attacking sedona's trails. at dusk, i would run through the canyon near the resort and then go to the gym and do weights before taking a swim. the daily routine would end with a bottle of wine, some bbq on my balcony and more american spirits under the most brilliant star filled skies i have ever witnessed. it was during that trip that i got lost descending from bear mountain peak and, luckily, being on a mesa, i was able to get the park service on the phone via my hotel front desk and a ranger guided me out by phone! only later did i realize the stupidity of attempting a difficult climb/hike like bear mountain alone, especially for a newby like myself. i learned that it was the most famous trail in sedona for rescue missions.
i had come by the arizona trip honestly. growing up near the bruce trail, on the niagara escarpment, hiking and low-grade climbing was a regular part of my early life. i loved the feeling of adventure, the freedom and the solitude of taking a back pack and hiking alone for hours along the bruce. early on, being outside and challenging myself established itself as a way of finding my centre. in medical school, i was at mcmaster university, close to dundas and the ancaster conservation area. i hiked and mountain biked every inch of the copious local trails surrounding the dundas valley. i would go for 4 hour walks on the trails above st. joeseph's hospital, in the snow at night, finishing by coming home through posh neighbourhoods of mansions near the chedoke golf course. this broke up my studying (or the other way around). i would fantasize about living in one of those mansions one day, having a family, feeling comfortable inside, rather than being like a steppenwolf walking through the dark snowy night alone for hours. i climbed cliffs in webster falls and rattlesnake point instead of being at the library or in class. once i fell more than 15 feet off of a rock bridge in webster falls where i was honing my rock climbing skills. i had to hobble out of the park on my severely sprained ankle, the same one that goes tight now and needs constant attention on the roller as my running volume goes up.
years later at the point of mental burnout, and between jobs, i took a driving trip across america with a friend and ended up hiking in yosemite national park and zion canyon. i remember being frozen from fear about 15 meters from the top of angel's landing in zion canyon. i had looked down at the drop below and a state of panic set in that i could not shake. i sat still and waited for the panic to pass. i had learned that you can't move safely when you are in the grips of fear. i regret not going back to try again. i was beaten by fear that day. i had vowed to return to zion, to the grand canyon, to hone my climbing skills and to challenge my penchant for luxury accomodations by doing longer and longer trips and overnights, but life changed, and these undertakings no longer suit my circumstances. i don't need them to. i have ironman. the yuppy, no overnight, no camping, no 500 foot drop off, slightly wimpier version of extreme hiking that can actually fit into the schedule of someone who works, has children and a spouse who does not love dirt and danger the way you do.
ralston's book has roused memories and associations. it makes me realize that i have always been attracted to heavy physical exertion, the outdoors, solitude, an element of danger, and challenge. i see how, even though i wasn't doing ironman in my 20's or 30's, that my foray into the sport makes sense. my background suits it. it suits me, philosophically, psychologically, physically. it has broadened my sensibilities about extreme endurance sport and also writing about it. i can only hope that translates into some interesting directions in this blog.
happy new year everyone. may we all experience our own ascensions in the New Year. may it be a good one.
onwards and upwards. another year has passed, and as another looms ahead, the associated ideas of upward motion, climbing mountains and averting death have particular relevance to me, as a human being and endurance athlete.
with five seasons and two ironmans under my belt, i am somewhere in that netherworld between latency and adolescence, in ironman terms. how lucky i am to be involved in a sport, where at the age of almost 45, i can reasonably expect five more seasons in which i can become stronger, smarter, fitter, and, ultimately, faster. as much as i have moments in which i regret that i wasn't doing this in my 30's, i am also glad for my late entry into the sport; it affords me a genuine fountain of youth, a chance to document in objective terms, an increase in my physical prowess, at a time in life when the vast majority of men have already entered well into the long, gradual, incessant and unyielding road of physical decay that leads towards the inevitable; old age and death.
i have read that an ironman ages your organs by 20 years in 10 hours. perhaps this is just journalistic sensationalism, and maybe there is some shred of truth in it, but i doubt it. what ironman does for the psyche, i am more sure of. it creates a sense of ascension, of moving up, even at a time in life, when, objectively speaking, i am probably past my "half-way point" and on the way down, both literally and figuratively. ironman keeps me feeling young. and, in keeping with the more mystical meaning of the word ascension, it brings me about as close to a deathless heaven as someone so profane as i could ever hope for. the irony is, that i get there, by confronting my limits and pushing myself though pain and discomfort.
i am bloated to bursting with this off season. i find myself missing pain, repetition and tiredness like they were long lost friends. more even. and furthermore, all this "leisure time" has brought with it a mental confusion born of false freedom. i seem to have, once again, lost awareness of where brilliance ends and banality begins. my armchair philosophizing is likely to be in high gear for the next week, until i am back at training once again. oh well, make the best of it, i say.
i recently took a family vacation that had nothing to do with racing or training. even though i exercised almost every day, it was just not enough to maintain my equilibrium fully and i found myself in a little heaven/hell of beer and curry driven apathy, taking long sleeps as tropical rains fell musically on the corrugated steel roof above my head. in between naps, i finally got around to reading a book that i had bought on my wife's kindle, almost two years prior. the book in question was aron ralstons "Between a Rock and a Hard Place".
this is where the mountain climbing part comes in. full force. i had watched the movie, 127 hours, during the winter of 2011, in the early stages of my Ironman Canada build. i was so inspired by his story that i posted a picture of ralston, standing atop a mountain, crotching the world and raising his prosthesis in the air, on my blog. i know it is cliche to say that the movie doesn't do the book justice, but in this case, it is also quite true.
one could easily come away from the movie with the impression that ralston was nothing more than a thrill seeking nature wahoo who realized his own brilliance through unpexpected tragedy. the book however, reveals a first class mountaineer with a philosophical bent. a guy who climbs over 5 thousand vertical feet and descends on skis on the weekend, and then runs a marathon, on his own, for the hell of it, on monday because he has a few hours to kill before work. ralston presents himself as endurance junkie, loner, philosopher and some kind of adrenaline hooked/childish/zen monk/mystic. i found myself identifying with ralston on many levels. i am sort of like a yuppy, wimpy version of ralston.
 |
| bear mountain at the bottom hear the trailhead |
flashback: in my early 30's i took a trip to arizona, on my own. at first i stayed at a posh resort in scottsdale, but i lasted about one day by the pool before i rented a bike and rode several hundred kilometers around the desert roads behind camelback mountain over the next couple of days. i also went mountain biking through the papago park, where the ironman run recently took place. in the evenings, i ate spit chicken and cornbread from bandera, drinking wine by candlelight and smoking american spirits. (i was young) soon, i got bored and decided to drive to sedona, where i splurged on lodgings, staying at the enchantment resort, (vacation spot of presidents) for a week. i rented a mountain bike and spent hours riding local trails in the mornings. i bought my first and only camelback, a solid pair of hiking shoes and a guide to sedona trails at a local shop and i spent the afternoons attacking sedona's trails. at dusk, i would run through the canyon near the resort and then go to the gym and do weights before taking a swim. the daily routine would end with a bottle of wine, some bbq on my balcony and more american spirits under the most brilliant star filled skies i have ever witnessed. it was during that trip that i got lost descending from bear mountain peak and, luckily, being on a mesa, i was able to get the park service on the phone via my hotel front desk and a ranger guided me out by phone! only later did i realize the stupidity of attempting a difficult climb/hike like bear mountain alone, especially for a newby like myself. i learned that it was the most famous trail in sedona for rescue missions.
 |
| the land of "enchantment", roughing it in luxury |
i had come by the arizona trip honestly. growing up near the bruce trail, on the niagara escarpment, hiking and low-grade climbing was a regular part of my early life. i loved the feeling of adventure, the freedom and the solitude of taking a back pack and hiking alone for hours along the bruce. early on, being outside and challenging myself established itself as a way of finding my centre. in medical school, i was at mcmaster university, close to dundas and the ancaster conservation area. i hiked and mountain biked every inch of the copious local trails surrounding the dundas valley. i would go for 4 hour walks on the trails above st. joeseph's hospital, in the snow at night, finishing by coming home through posh neighbourhoods of mansions near the chedoke golf course. this broke up my studying (or the other way around). i would fantasize about living in one of those mansions one day, having a family, feeling comfortable inside, rather than being like a steppenwolf walking through the dark snowy night alone for hours. i climbed cliffs in webster falls and rattlesnake point instead of being at the library or in class. once i fell more than 15 feet off of a rock bridge in webster falls where i was honing my rock climbing skills. i had to hobble out of the park on my severely sprained ankle, the same one that goes tight now and needs constant attention on the roller as my running volume goes up.
 |
| rock ledges above the chedoke golf course on the bruce trail |
 |
| rattlesnake point |
years later at the point of mental burnout, and between jobs, i took a driving trip across america with a friend and ended up hiking in yosemite national park and zion canyon. i remember being frozen from fear about 15 meters from the top of angel's landing in zion canyon. i had looked down at the drop below and a state of panic set in that i could not shake. i sat still and waited for the panic to pass. i had learned that you can't move safely when you are in the grips of fear. i regret not going back to try again. i was beaten by fear that day. i had vowed to return to zion, to the grand canyon, to hone my climbing skills and to challenge my penchant for luxury accomodations by doing longer and longer trips and overnights, but life changed, and these undertakings no longer suit my circumstances. i don't need them to. i have ironman. the yuppy, no overnight, no camping, no 500 foot drop off, slightly wimpier version of extreme hiking that can actually fit into the schedule of someone who works, has children and a spouse who does not love dirt and danger the way you do.
 |
| angel's landing from across the canyon |
 |
| and just before the final ridge |
ralston's book has roused memories and associations. it makes me realize that i have always been attracted to heavy physical exertion, the outdoors, solitude, an element of danger, and challenge. i see how, even though i wasn't doing ironman in my 20's or 30's, that my foray into the sport makes sense. my background suits it. it suits me, philosophically, psychologically, physically. it has broadened my sensibilities about extreme endurance sport and also writing about it. i can only hope that translates into some interesting directions in this blog.
happy new year everyone. may we all experience our own ascensions in the New Year. may it be a good one.
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