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Blonde Again

The more things change, the more they stay the same.

On my last blog, I explained that I was going back to Scotland to celebrate turning 60 because I did the trip to mark my 50th birthday.

For months I’ve also been remembering what and who I was when I turned 40. Funny how big birthdays can get you reminiscing about the past. In 1998 I was just retired from my full time job at the ad agency and making my way with a new career. I was dealing with people and my surroundings in a different way. I was evolving into an adult.

Part of the shift was becoming a personal trainer that would opt to shave her head to support a client going through chemo. Why not? It was only hair and a perfect way to make a mark about how I wanted to support my clients and how I wanted to live my life.

Years later I wrote a story about the experience.

 

Bald

Today I am a forty year old bald woman.

Yesterday I had long black hair down to my shoulders.

Today I notice my ears are too big for my face.

Yesterday I looked like everyone else.

Today the wind on my bare scalp chills me to the bone.

Yesterday I still had all my hair to hide behind.

Today people stare at me.

Yesterday I walked into my hairdressers and had my head shaved.

The first step was to cut the bulk of my long hair with scissors.  I was spellbound sitting there watching my reflection as my cherished locks fell away.  The next step came as he used the electric razor for a close crop.  You could now see the shape of my head.  Thank God I had no strange lumps and bumps.  That would have been too much!  Then finally the razor blade to finish the job. There were no tears, just the reflection of a forty year old bald woman looking back at me.

Today I visited my bald client with breast cancer.  She is bald from the chemo and was excited about my gesture to shave my own head to support her journey.  Today she quietly tells me she can’t stand to look at me because it reminds her how sick she is.  She doesn’t want to look at the face of another bald woman.  I am banished.  She tells me to leave and not come back.

Yesterday I was a person embarking on a symbolic gift for a friend.

Today I am a forty year old bald woman.

This piece not only told the story, but helped me find a way to share my life and experiences.

I became a writer. I found my voice.

If I wanted to say something, I would tell you a little tale.

So there was no better way to explain to you the reason why I look like this today.

It really shouldn’t come as a big surprise to the people that know me best.

And face it, there’s something cathartic to reflect about what it means to turn 60. What I’ve learned, what I care about, and what doesn’t matter at all.

Doing this while being blonde just makes me laugh.

The more things change, the more they stay the same.

 

 

Change Sucks

Why is change so difficult? Even if it’s something we want it can throw your life into chaos. If it’s something we don’t want, well then there’s a mountain of negative frenzy to plow through.

I don’t like change. Negative or positive. But I also know that deciding not to change may be the worst decision to make. In a way, change is easier when it’s forced on you. Deciding to leap is tough.

With all these ideas floating around my head, I resigned my position as Fundraising Coordinator at the Surrey International Writers’ Conference.

Yes, shocking news if you recently read my last blog about SiWC. (read it here)

I’m well known for telling people that it’s all about intent. If you ever have a question about what to do, just remember your original intent and the answer will be clear.

My intent all along has been to get a book written and published. It’s that intent that led me to my first Surrey Writers’ Conference. It’s been a long journey and I feel that time is running out. I need to get this done.

Heading into 2018 was my kick in the butt.

And let’s face it; I’m not the fundraising sort of person. The position was a great way to procrastinate and not write my book.

So I stepped aside.

As much as I hate change it can make me nostalgic. It made me remember all the people I’ve met at SiWC… some of the highest points were not the most public moments.

-That first year, a writer named Ace Baker gave me the courage to sit down with Jack Whyte so he could critique my stories.

-Chats with Anne Perry are always a lesson in living well and getting on with the work.

-Paula, Joe, Helga, Karalee and Silk…. 5 writers on the same journey. We always talk about it in the bar.

-Terry Fallis gave me more inspiration than I thought was possible and it still resonates today.

-One year, Maryam Tajilrou, one of the staff at The Sheraton Guildford, saved my whole conference by stepping up with an act of kindness.

-Sean Cranbury and Jane Porter and DinoPorn

-Thanks to kc dyer for pointing out that I’m a personal trainer and that’s where my story lives.

-Regan Ross showed me what real courage is.

-Jasper Fforde is a very kind man and gave me faith in my words.

-Tyner Gillies has your back during any emergency.

-And most important of all…being friends with Jen Browne is a blessing and privilege.

Yes, there have been lots of other moments… the joy of being around SiWC and attending the conference is that it could change your life.

It changed mine.

Sometimes change is good.

 

I’m a Personal Trainer

It usually comes back to the basics. No matter how much I learn about the art of personal training the main facts never change.

Get stronger, keep moving, and use your common sense.

I add the philosophy that you should start by helping your client define their own goals. It doesn’t matter what I want, it only matters what is important to them.

Once that is known there is always a way through. We just need to figure it out.

These are the foundations of my practice.

Then once every two years the business side of being a personal trainer needs attention.

I just finished my tenth re-certification to keep my credentials up to date with the International Sport Sciences Association.  I’ve been a trainer for 20 years and for the last 10 I’ve held the “Specialist in Fitness for Older Adults” accreditation.

This time I turned my attention to help people deal with Parkinson’s disease. There are books, courses and tests to complete to become a specialist in this area. As a professional you cannot venture in without the accreditation and as much medical knowledge as you can acquire. Clients need to know you have a solid background.

But in the end, I believe I learn more about the disease from the people that are dealing with it every day.

Each person is different. Listen to what they have to say. Then put all your resources towards making their lives better.

Luckily every certification has to include updating my CPR and First Aid. As some of my previous blogs have noted, that training has come in handy. This time around I was with a small group all attending the class for their first re-certification. I felt just a tiny bit smug when I shared that this was my tenth. I truly appreciate the updated training. This year I was reminded how lucky I am to have taken some of the courses from active firemen. Their practical added input has been invaluable.

Every two years I go through this re-certification process. As someone who hates tests, I’m relieved when it’s over.

I’m happy to get back to work assisting my clients.

In the end that’s all that matters.

 

Charles Hillman

“Charles Hillman was a true gentleman.”

That was the comment most heard at Charles’ memorial service this past weekend.

Saturday would have been his 100th birthday and Charles would have loved the hoopla!

Charles passed away on June 28, 2017 (obituary)

In August of 2013 I wrote a blog about this great man.

Today, as I read it again, I can still hear his laughter.

 

Charles

“I wish Winifred was here listening to this.”

It was the only time during the evening I thought I might cry.

My oldest client will turn 96 next week.  A truly lovely man and an iconic Vancouverite.  Winifred was his beloved wife.  I am his personal trainer.  We met in the elevator in his building. He hired me on the spot. He wanted to keep physically fit. We laughed at our first meeting and have laughed during every workout session since.

During the past year things have become more difficult for Charles.  The aging process is horrendous and cruel. Even music has slipped from his life.  He has not played his ukulele and sang to me for months.

There is a pallor of sadness and resignation filling his room.

“I have a friend staying with me, he’s just moved here from the UK, he’s a musician and actor. I’ll bring him over to sing with you.”

Charles agreed.

So last week I got to sit with Charles as Andrew pulled out his guitar and started to play.  With the first notes Andrew sang I witnessed Charles’ face light up. And I swear I watched the colour return to the room.

At the end of that first song Charles applauded the performance and proclaimed, “He’s marvelous!”

Andrew coxed Charles to join him and before I could have predicted there were both strumming along together. Sheet music appeared and the concert began.  The joy oozed from Charles even though his voice was weak. Andrew was the perfect catalyst to make the songs singable.  They sang together for the next hour.

When Charles said, “I wish Winifred was here”, I knew Andrew had made magic happen.

It’s rare to get the chance to bring someone true happiness.

And I got to witness it all.

A Funny Moment

It’s the little moments. The time when something makes you smile, or laugh. Jasper Fforde’s workshop at the Surrey International Writers’ Conference was all about humour in writing. Over breakfast the next day, we chatted about how you can write about the most horrific event and still make the audience smile.

Writing humour wasn’t on my mind as I assisted with the Diana Gabaldon book signing later that day. Everyone was already smiling! My job was to help people by taking their picture with Diana. Capture the moment so they could hold it forever. This was fun!

No one was expecting a medical emergency.

As we were wrapping up one of the fans collapsed. Since I was the closest, my emergency/first aid training took over and I stepped in.

There’s no need to tell you the scary and grisly medical details of what happened over the next precious minutes as we waited for the paramedics to arrive. It’s one of the most intimate times you will ever spend with someone. The surrounding world disappears; it’s just you and them.

I start talking. I pray my voice will keep them with us. I pray that what I say and how I sound can focus their thoughts and keep them here.

Last time I was in this position the man later told me he zeroed in on that sound and it made him calm, gave him a beacon to hold on to.

When everything is going wrong calmness can help. A place far away from the fear of what is going on all around you.

I hoped the same would happen on that floor where just minutes before a crowd had been waiting for Diana to sign their books.

As the worst of the symptoms subsided and the wait for medical help dragged on I could see she was starting to become aware of what had happened.

I leaned in a little more and said, “I don’t know about you, but I hope one of the paramedics looks like Jamie.”  Jamie Fraser is the hero of Diana Gabaldon’s books and a stunning Scot.  The smallest smile appeared, just a faint movement of her lip. In the midst of the mayhem she heard my joke and reacted. In that second I knew she would be OK, I knew we would get through this mess.

The paramedics and firemen arrived and to be honest, I can’t tell you what they looked like. My relief that the professionals had swept in to save the day was too overwhelming.

People came to the conference to attend dozens of workshops and hone their craft.

My experience was different but in some respects the same.

We are people connecting with people.

Great writing has the ability to make that happen. Words can perform miracles.

A writer can conjure up a feeling that supersedes everything else.

Diana Gabaldon created Jamie Fraser and he can make someone smile in the most horrendous circumstances.

Jasper Fforde reminded us that during those darkest moments it’s OK to say something funny.

And sometimes that is the best medicine.

siwc-blog-diana

Spending time with the amazing Diana Gabaldon

 

Olympic Gold Medal

He gave me a little smile and said, “I don’t know if you’re serious or not.”

“What? Of course I’m serious! As far as I’m concerned, we’re going to compete and probably win a gold medal at the next Winter Olympics.”

Then I gave my classic, disbelieving, shake of the head. I do this to show how offended I am when someone questions my intent. I use it often.

His wife said, “And that’s why your company is called Go Big Or Go Home?”

“Correct.”

I’ve only known him for 4 months. He’s a new client, 83 years old, with Parkinson’s. My job is to make him stronger. We’re getting there… slowly.

Pretty early on I added in this idea of the Olympics. Everyone needs a goal. Why not aim for an Olympic Gold medal?

I thought the two-man bobsled was our obvious sport. He said we should ski. I told him that is ridiculous since it’s a solo sport AND I don’t know how to ski. He just shrugged his shoulders.

I pushed for the bobsled idea. He said I was an idiot.

It is our on-going conversation.

I will not give up. We’re doing the bobsled.

“We can get Brad Fay to interview us. He’s the big Sportsnet Olympic host! He follows me on Twitter. We’ll be fantastic on TV.”

This comment gets a big smile. Maybe people just like Brad Fay?

At our next workout session he tells me I’m delusional.

Maybe I am.

But my history has told me that dreams do come true.

The trick is to aim high. Know what you want. Work hard. And throw in a little good karma.

Then sit back and appreciate the journey.

Many people spent this past week talking about Mohamed Ali. They spoke about his courage and how he battled against this debilitating disease. The grace in how he handled his decline.

I spend two hours a week with someone still waging the war. Every day he must fight to move. To me he’s a hero in how he handles himself with grace and a stubborn resilience. He does not give up and pushes when all hope is draining away. What more defines an Olympian than that?

I bet there are people all around you that are fighting. Some are winning, some are just hanging on.

And some are thinking about a gold medal.

Olympic Flame #2 (2)

HE Tai Situpa Rinpoche

People saw the picture and said I looked calm and serene.

ME condensed

Wrong.

What was really going on inside my head?

“Don’t drop it. Don’t trip. Don’t cry. Seriously… when you look into his eyes, don’t cry!”

I waited seventeen years to see Tai Situ Rinpoche again. I would never have guessed I would be one of the people offering a statue to him at the Thrangu Monastery last week.

Crazy.

I first met His Eminence Chamgon Kenting Tai Situpa in 1999.

Tai Situ Lunch

On that day he set the direction for my life’s work. I would never again question the path my personal training was taking me. One of those fortunate times when everything seemed clear and correct.

This day was my opportunity to thank him for changing my life.

Bowing to TS

I expect His Eminence has that effect on most of the people he meets.

You would expect no less from the man prophesied to be the next Buddha.

I won’t bother you with the lineage and history of Tibetan Buddhism. It’s all widely proclaimed and many books have been written about what will be. Once I met Tai Situ I had no doubt it was true. But who knew the next Buddha would be so funny and entertaining? He captivates the audience with his laugh and self-effacing jibes… then without a blink gives a profound, clear and simple teaching.

Tai Situ

His advice is filled with common sense. The bare essence of how we should act.

His words will echo within me forever. His laugh is the music I want to replay. His face is the portrait framed in my heart.

He made me laugh. And think. And be astounded by my own good karma.

So what happened moments after the picture was taken and I presented Tai Situ with the statue?

He blessed me, I looked into his eyes, whispered “thank you”, bowed my head and walked away.

Then I cried.

A good personal trainer?

What makes a good personal trainer?

Great question.

It’s what I was asked when I told a friend I wanted to hire a personal trainer for myself.

Life’s gotten crazy busy and showing up for weight training is easier if you’ve booked a specific time with someone. A ready-made incentive. It’s all about that commitment thing.

Years ago I hired a trainer and he was good. Really good. In fact he was so good he left Vancouver and got a job training Farah Fawcett. I do know he enjoyed training her more than me. Yes… hard to believe, but true.

The bottom line is a personal trainer has to be certified. That is a given. You need credentials.

What people might not know is there are different types of certifications from different governing bodies. I’m certified with the International Sports Sciences Association out of California. They fit the philosophy and style of training I wanted to pursue. So far, so good.

But no amount of certificates or credited courses or years in the business will make you a great trainer. Sure, it all helps, but I believe there is only one deciding factor.

A great personal trainer has to care about their client.

It took me years to embrace this concept but once I did my business started to really grow. I made the decision to only work with people I liked. That way it was easy to care about them. And when I cared about them I genuinely wanted them to be happier. I was much more motivated to help them reach their specific goals.

And trust me… everyone has different goals. You have to find out what they are.

When I take on a client I end up spending hours and hours with them. Life is just better when you are with people you like and appreciate.

And as much as you think you can fake caring about a client, in the end it doesn’t work. At least it hasn’t for me.

The guy who left me for Farrah Fawcett? I always got the feeling he enjoyed my company. Yes, I bitched when he had me do too many squats, but we laughed the whole time. When he told me he was leaving for LA he seemed sad to go. He said he would miss our sessions. I believed him.

And because I felt he cared, I did squats to make him proud.

Everyone ends up happy.

So will I get a great personal trainer to help me get into better shape?

Maybe the bigger question is…

How can you tell if someone really cares?

Maybe it’s the person that will be with you at the finish line?

urban pest best finish