January Challenge!

This January challenge couldn't come at a better time. I loathe the first week of January. If I didn't have to work, I would lock myself in my room and sleep the entire week away. Although the temperature has been unseasonably warm in Saskatchewan (16 in Maple Creek??!!), which I find...confusing, it's still dark. Dark. Gloomy. Dark. I arrive at work in the dark. I leave work in the dark. Every now and then, I gaze out of a hospital window to prove that natural light does really exist. I hate it. And as an aside, power 99 FM, our local radio station, does not help the cause by reporting the temperature high in Jamaica on an hourly basis. Power 99 FM why are you doing this to us? I am NOT in Jamaica!! Torture. To add to the misery, I typically buck up and completely change my diet, cutting out the crap that I carelessly consumed during December. The "food" that has caused me to become malnourished and irritable. The fact is, the "cutting" of the crappy food causes excessive irritability for at least the first week. My very wise mother asked, "why are making yourself more irritable during what is always the most difficult time of the year for you?" Good point, mom. I guess I'm a sucker for punishment. I have to admit, this week I was not practicing what I've been preaching on this blog. I actually walked into the coffee room on Tuesday and proclaimed (speech pathologist's cover your eyes!), "I don't think speech therapy ACTUALLY works. My profession is a farce. I am an epic failure." Wow. Good day, Kirst? Not very "seize the day" of me, is it? Now speech therapists, don't get all riled up on me, I take it back completely. The lack of light, sugar, and laughter temporarily turned me into a hopeless, frustrated biatch. But by Thursday, the cloud of despair began to lift, my withdrawal from sugar shakes began to subside, and I received confirmation that my January goal was "a go."

I am just so excited about this month's challenge for a few reasons. First, it reunites me with someone who was a very important part of my and Ev's lives as we entered adulthood (wait...are we there yet?) Second, it involves animals and I love animals. Finally, it's something that, I believe, will provide an adrenalin rush out in the winter elements which is exactly what my sad, sorry, tired ass needs right now.

For the month of January, I will be....

DOG SLEDDING!!

Cool, I know. I can't wait. Technically, it won't be "dog sledding" this month. The lack of snow this year makes it difficult and dangerous to actually ride the sled behind the team, so we will be partaking in "fall training," in which the team of dogs pull a quad. To be honest, the day I decided to embark on this experiment (back in August), I knew that this activity HAD to be on my list and I knew of just the person who could make it work.

Anyone who attended Carlton High School knew teacher/basketball coach extraordinaire, Nancy Dragan, AKA "Drags."Nancy was that one teacher that even the most horrible, defiant little bastards couldn't help but love. Although extremely level-headed, calm, and rationale, her passion and exuberance for the sport of basketball was apparent as she ran up and down the court shouting plays and encouragement to her team. I didn't have the opportunity to play for "Drags," as I was never in to basketball (I was a volleyball girl); however, my sister, Lori, played for Drags throughout high school and frequently comments (15+ years later) about the dedication that Drags always provided to that team, including completing stats late at night after a weekend tournament so that the girls had them for morning practice.

Nancy was much more than just a teacher to Evan and I. Nancy was Evan's billet for his last 3 years with the Prince Albert Raiders. The billet situation was always so difficult for Ev and I. There were very strict rules about curfew time, visitors, etc and although Evan I had been dating for over 2 years, previous billets did not respect that Evan and I were actually involved in a serious relationship. Many in the hockey world encouraged Evan to "ditch the girlfriend and focus on hockey." In addition, I was attending my first 2 years of university and I was receiving similiar advice, "There's lots of guys in University." "He'll move away and forget about you." "Move on." That was hard to swallow. Although we were very young, and looking back, had no idea what barriers lay ahead, we were in love. We had made plans to get married. We spent hours talking to each other about our hopes, dreams and fears with hockey, university, our future. We needed each other and it was so distressing that so many people around us couldn't see that. I remember begging one of Evan's billets to let me be with Evan after 10pm curfew, as Evan had just found out his Grandpa had died. That was hard. Thank god for Nancy Dragan.

Nancy was exactly what Evan needed. She provided a warm, comfy home full of lovable dogs and that extra bit of freedom to be an adult. Evan was 20. He did not need his meals cooked for him. He did not need to report his every move. He needed a friend. A responsible adult who could support him and point him in the right direction when needed. Nancy understood the mind of an athlete and Evan truly appreciated her response to the hockey. While other billets badgered players for play-by-play description of why a loss had occurred, Nancy provided quiet support and just let Evan "be."And I always felt like Nancy respected that Evan and I had a "real" relationship. She never downplayed it, mocked it, or attempted to break it up. She was a very important part of our lives at a critical time when we were learning who were were as adults, and as a couple. This is why I am presently over the moon about spending some time with her doing what has become her greatest passion.

When Ev was living with Nancy during the late nineties, she was just starting to become involved with the world of dog sledding/mushing. She always had a keen interest in Huskies, and Ev and I have fond memories of one of her pets, "Dakota." Dakota was a beautiful dog - the poster dog for the Siberian Huskie, with a shiny thick coat and haunting two-toned eyes. But Dakota was a shithead. He owned the joint and would slam his giant head into Evan's door, rifle through his closet and steal bags of Peg's homemade gingersnaps. Dakota would sneak out the door when I arrived, running recklessly down the streets of PA with Ev and I hot on his heels. Dakota was a character. Dakota's no longer with us, but Nancy now has a yard full of "Dakotas" (well these dogs are likely trimmer, faster and probably don't eat gingerbread cookies!)

Nancy is right in the middle of intensive training with her dogs, as she is preparing for the Torch River Run, an 80km race in March. She invited me out of town to her dog yard to meet and help feed her dogs on Friday evening. Initially as I walked into the yard to loud howls, barks, and shrieks, I was a little intimidated, but it soon became apparent that these guys are friendly and quite comfortable with humans, especially those that might help feed them ;) Nancy is obviously so proud of her dogs and cares for them dearly, but she explains that it's important not to anthropomorphisize these animals (give them human-like qualities). They are still dogs and if you were to examine their family trees, you would find the word "Wolf"; however, after only a few minutes, it's easy to see that each dog has its own distinct personality. I immediately notice Cooper, an anxious-looking dog with a dog dish in his mouth, repeatedly circling his house - round...and round....and round. Nancy explains that he's the most nervous of all the dogs and appears to have some OCD-like behavior (interesting!) She's tried everything to help him to relax, but the only time that he tends to calm down is when he's running (interestingly enough, he also gets performance anxiety prior to run!). Garlic, (what a name for a dog!) on the other hand, sits stoically and calmly in front of his house. Nancy explains that he is a leader. He works hard and motivates the other dogs to follow suit. Garlic actually looks like a yellow lab. I'm surprised to recognize a few dogs from our days with Nancy years ago. Obviously these dogs are now 13-16 years old. They no longer race, and although they show their age as they walk stiffly around their house in anticipation of food, I can see that spark in their glaucoma-ridden eyes and can just picture them hoarsely shouting, "I can still race, pick me. I can do it." (and there I go anthropomorphizing the dogs).

Dundee resolves to become a member of a sled team in 2012

Nancy and I spent a few hours catching up and feeding the dogs. Once the dogs were fed, the yard grew eerily silent, as the dogs settled in for the night. Nancy pointed out the spectacular sunset. Wow. I've never actually paid attention to sunsets during the winter. I just kind of wrote them off. Ask anyone who's holidayed with me in tropical locations or boated with me on a summer's night and you'll know that I'm a sunset addict ("Hurry, guzzle your beer and meet me at the pier. Sunset!") How have I missed winter sunsets for all these years? What I love most about sunsets is that it forces you to momentarily "be" in the present. I know that I live my life in constant anticipation for the future, but with a sunset, I am present in that moment. When Ryan died, his friends gathered around his laptop to search for pictures that would be appropriate for his memorial. Ryan's computer contained folder after folder filled with pictures of sunsets. A random sunset over a field. A sunset over Candle Lake. A sunset in Bali. A close-up of Ryan's giant head right in front of a sunset :) Ryan, apparently, shared my love of sunsets. I had no idea. I wonder if sunsets helped Ryan live in the present?

What a great experience. I can't wait to get to know the dogs, learn more about the sport of dogsledding, and catch up on lost time with Nancy. And don't fret, I'm still finishing the crochet - only 3 squares left and 16 days until the baby's estimated arrival!

Check out the video. Nancy had just pulled out the dog food and it's chaos! Every time I play this video, Dundee, the little white dog, runs barking from window to window. He's ready to become a sled dog's meal.