Going Nomad |
This winter and early spring we have been between BC and Alberta, and while in Alberta in a small town north of Calgary. At first the days were long and lonely and cold. Yet, as I wrote before, even a nomad likes to have a sense of community, and I joined a triathlon club and a gym. Working hard towards big goals (sprint tri, Olympic tri, then half iron in fall), I quickly became part of the 'in crowd,' a group of tough and committed gym rats. I met Virginia there, a retired 'letter carrier' as she called herself, who, as a result of her days carrying letters in all weather conditions would predict snow for me, or wind, or whatever she felt in her bones and who enjoyed cooking good food just as much as me. At 73, she kicks the asses of women a fraction her age in bodypump. There was Carley, my favourite spin instructor of all times, who always reminded us that we are beautiful and that for that reason, we keep our heads up, always, so that these faces are seen no matter how tired. I bought speed skates and skated, for the first time in decades, on the many free outdoor rinks in this town, rusty but determined. And there were the regulars in the city's rinks on the free public skate on Wednesday afternoon who became my cheerleaders as I slowly dusted off the rust. There was Cora's, where we could leisurely finish breakfast even after realising that we forgot our wallets to come back later and pay, any time really. I met Jeanne, who showed me beautiful countryside roads to bike in spring. Yet, as the song goes, our door is always open and our path is free to walk. As we get ready to leave once again, I feel a sense of nostalgia for this small and friendly place that, for the time I was here, took me in as one of their own. Also as the song goes, I will keep this small town on its countryside's back roads, by the rivers of my memory, ever smilin' ever gentle on my mind...
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