My Life as a Mountain Bum- Log 5 - Long Live the Bagel Queen

My life as a Mountain Bum’.

Long Live the Bagel Queen

January 13 2016—Log5

It’s Tuesday Jan 19. I’ve officially lived full time in Canmore for just under 1 month.

A Dream Realized....

Two Days Ago I emerged as the self proclaimed Bagel Queen, a fun job to supplement my income and, if we were being honest, keep me busy. After 2 weeks working a little over part time for the “girls” I was antsy, and I needed to make a little more so I could enjoy my life as a mountain bum...

Today, a conversation with one of my co-workers really brought a new perspective on my new life. You see in the past, as I mentioned in my previous blog, I was all about the title, looking and feeling like I was important.... somebody.

As my co-worker and I were joking about past lives, I said the old me would probably disown the new me.

For so long I looked at people in jobs like the one I am in now, and thought “how could they not want more for their life??” the lack of ambition or desire to evolve almost repulsed me at times. I just could not understand how people could settle.

Yet, isn’t that what I was doing?? Settling into a job I’m way over qualified and probably too smart for?

As I really considered my role, and how it was completing me, I took time to really observe my co-workers. The immigrants working on visa’s so they can experience the Mountains, and Canmore. The Manager who has a lovely Irish lilt, my wee friend “Fish” who brings light to every ones faces with her thick accented greeting... to see her in action is to see her turn even the surliest of faces into a smile with her simple “Hello, can I help you”.  The owner, who sparkles in his own right... reminding me of Chris Cringle form the long ago Christmas animated movies... who took a look at my over priced resume and still took a chance at giving me a non-overpriced job. Lastly, the Geologist who is living out of his camper truck, with his dog and his dreams, A man like myself, only a wee bit younger, who realized that his best life wasn’t chasing rocks in Alaska, the man who started this whole internal debate. The Man who really seems to understand that life lived at it’s simplest is the best life lived.

So what did I learn by observing and reflecting? From looking inward, instead of looking at what peoples perception of the outward was?

I guess, for me, I learned that these people have real joy. Something I have been looking for in my titles and “power positions”. The understand simplicity, and how to thrive within it.

It was as a Realtor in my office said after my first day as the Bagel Queen... “who cares what you do, you get to live here!” And He was right, that is what matters at the heart of it all. I have found the secret to accepting simplicity, and thriving. I realize it doesn’t matter what my title is, Manager, General Manager, Owner, or Bagel Queen. I am living my best life in this moment and I am going to embrace it, and be proud of it. It doesn’t matter to me what my “friends” think of my lack of title or prestige.

Who knows what the future holds, the only thing I know 100% is that I have more to learn from these amazing people, and until I have taken it all in, I’m not going to let them go.

Besides, I am certain, there will be many Bagel Queen stories to share. “The Adventures of the Bagel queen and her friend “Fish”.”

Yes, Long live the Bagel Queen!!

My life as a Mountain Bum Log 4 -- Learning to sparkle

My life as a Mountain Bum.

January 13 2016—Log 4

Its Wednesday Night in Lisaland... After a week of getting settled, a week of playing around in real estate, trying to find my groove I started to feel anxious.

I love working for the girls, I love trying to build a structure to make them shine. I love feeling a part of all that, but, I wasn’t sure where I was in the whole game plan. Until today....

This week I faced the disappointment of not hearing back from a job I thought I had. A good job, paying decent money, with benefits, that would have tied me down to a life I wasn’t sure I wanted. The more I thought about it that more it didn’t sit well, but the rejection, or lack of rejection, still broke me.

The reality is, for so many years I have put an emphasis on being something, being in demand, being “important”. I’ve felt that I’ve needed to live that life, to live up to expectations of myself, and what I thought others expected of me.

I spent that past few years pouring myself into a career that I enjoyed, Loving a group of amazing men who I watched work as many or more hours than I did, chasing something they may never reach.

I felt their heartaches, the family struggles, the illness and injuries, the heart attack that almost took one of my dearest men.

I woke up at 4am to rush to accidents and unfit jobsites, 2:30am for safety meetings, I hugged my men, I cried for my men, and I laughed with my men often. I cannot help but think I made a difference in their lives, but more than that they made a difference in mine.

So why was I struggling to accept the path I was taking to make a difference in my own life. Did I not deserve this opportunity???

Yesterday was a defeating day as I hit the pavement looking for a job to supplement my main focus working with Clare and Mary-Anne in support and marketing. I found myself confronting my pride, and really having to humble myself.  I considered running home, to Edmonton, to my parent’s basement and hiding there.... I felt shame.

After a terrible sleep, I woke up and read a post from a friend on Facebook... It was a photo that said “today’s plan: 1. Drink Coffee 2. Ignore negativity 3. Be Awesome” and I decide that was exactly what I was going to do.

I got up, walked the girls, got ready, went to the office and started working on Real Estate Files, booking showings for Clare, and just enjoying being around amazing people. Around noon I decided to break for a coffee, foregoing my typical stop at Good Earth I walked down 2 blocks to my favorite bagel place, enjoying the gorgeous warm winter day. I had a purpose in this walk, outside the gluten free apricot cookie I was going to cheat on my diet with, the store next to the bagel company had recently been advertising an opening, so I figured it was worth a shot. I overshot the bagel co to peak at the entrance to the Pilates clothing store, not seeing the help wanted sign I decide it I would splurge on a cookie and a latte and console my mood.

As I reached to open the door to the bagel co. I noticed the sign, Energetic, fun loving, awesome people needed (ok, it didn’t exactly say that but that is what it said to me). I decide at that moment, if there was no line, I would ask about the job.... So I walked in fully expecting a line 6-8 deep as normal, yet there I was, the only one... so I took my chance... and I met the most amazing people, an owner with more sparkle than I have... and I took a job that is not going to add to my title. It doesn’t put me in a power suit... in fact, it puts me in an apron...yet, I’ve never felt so alive in my life.

I get to live a life I dreamed, in the community I love... I get to support two amazing women who took a chance on me, not questions asked.... two women who have faith in me... and have helped me find my faith in myself. I get to work as the Bagel queen at a favorite spot shared by Al and myself....

And, instead of feeling embarrassed about taking a job below my past, I have found nothing but support and encouragement from the people in my life.

It’s not about the power suit, nor about having a title, or letters behind my name.... its’ about living, laughing, and being free.... For the first time in so long I feel I am exactly where I need to be!

My life As a Mountain Bum -- Log 3 Freezing with Friends

My life as a Mountain Bum.

January 10 2016—Log 3

Its Sunday night in my little mountain town, I’m warm inside my wee condo, Anthony Bourdain is playing in the background on the TV, and as always the girls are snoring softly.

Al left a few hours ago, my house feels somewhat empty, and I’m left sitting here reflecting on a weekend of laughter and companionship.

It was one of those weekends where the frozen mountains brought with them a wicked wind, -28 with wind-chill was our theme on Saturday, yet, somehow, our crazy friend Wayne managed to get us out for a snowshoe. With a promise of laugh’s and a good time we bundled up and headed east to Exshaw where we met up with Wayne, Trish and our new friends Jos and Willamena.

As Al got out of the car to greet Wayne all I could hear was the brutal wind whipping around our car, and with that my resolve disintegrated. There was no way I was getting out of the car! Five minutes later a smiling Wayne was waiting to greet me with a hug and a promise of the wind disappearing once we got into the canyon.

The next 4 hours were a blur that I cannot begin to describe, nor do our photos do it justice.

We hiked about 2km to the canyon entrance, over a brutal open landscape, the wind whipping around us. Once I caught up to the group I saw it, the entrance to what I call the “canyon”, some light scrambling around boulders and knee deep snow into a staggering valley, the wind completely disappeared, and we were surrounded by the overwhelming beauty of the mountains. From the blue green ice to the fresh powder the terrain was easy and challenging in its own right. The views took my breath away, and I found myself humbled in constant awe of the beauty the mountains harbor. Laughs, conversation, and time in my own mind brought a personal connection and spirituality only the mountains can provide.

Hours after we started the group descended upon my wee home for fresh cinnamon buns Al-A “half way Wong” and hot tubing. With laughter and great conversation we finished out an amazing day, and I was content, realizing this was something I had longed for... for so many years, my Love... my friends...laughter...and conversation in my own home.

Tonight, as I sit alone in my wee home, I realize just how rich my life has become, and I am excited to see where it leads. Money comes and goes, but these adventures... these connections... they live forever in the soul.

My Life as a Mountain Bum-Log 2-- a little midnight magic

My life as an Un-Employed Mountain Bum.

January 7 2016—Log 2

Its 12:35am in Lisaland, I’m brewing tea. Not exactly what I had planned, you see I WAS asleep.

Today I have a second interview with a company that would be a pretty decent opportunity, coupled with my real estate assistant gig, which is turning out to be a great time, with awesome people. This job would provide financial stability and freedom of financial mind.

Now, before you go ahead and jump to conclusions, I’m not nervous. Yes I’ll be going up in front of 3 men for this interview, and yes it does present a great opportunity to settle in, but the reality is either they will hire me or they won’t.  Personally, I’m ok with the outcome either way, I’m treating this whole new life as an organic experience, things will come naturally, or they won’t come at all.

The real reason I am up is snoring on the rug behind me, sprawled out like there was no interruption in their sleep at all. It was a tag team effort really; First Jade was restless, resulting in her draping herself over my bladder. Not a big deal, but after a few minutes I had to get up and relive said bladder. That led to Chelsea (who never jumps out of bed, the princess MUST be carried) Jumping out of bed and following me. I realized to late the ploy of the girls, as I opened my bedroom door they made a beeline for the water dish. Note to self, we MUST start using the humidifier. One drained dish of water later, I find my self-donning my sweats and coat (sans bra, I’m a winter mountain bum.... and I’m loving it)to head outside. Half annoyed with myself for not taking them out one last time before I crawled under the sheets.

I double check to ensure I have my pass key before I leave the front lobby, the reception desk is closed now, and I’m phoneless, which would make for big trouble should I lock myself out.

As I open the door and step out into the refreshing mountain air I realize, it’s snowing, not large flakes, but a nice light snow that sparkles on the ground.

A little, magical snow, in the middle of the night, in my little Mountain town that I would have missed, if it were not for a crazy schnauzer and her need to stretch out across my bladder.

My Life as a mountain Bum-- Log 1

My life as an Un-Employed Mountain Bum.

January 5 2016

It’s 7am in my little mountain town. The Girls and I are rounding out our morning 5K walk headed back to our little condo. Our routine set from the months of weekend visits. Wake-up, brew coffee, feed girls, walk girls, (while drinking coffee), stop at Avalanche Bagels for a $1.00 refill, walk home.

The town is just starting to come a live, a stark contrast to the sleepy town I typically tour at 5:30am, I guess the merit of being unemployed is the extra hours of sleep.... one more note to add to my pro’s list.

It’s a chilly -12 degrees (Celsius) the perfect temperature to test out my new thermal layers. The ones I bought for ATY and forgot to wear.

I am still amazed that this is my home; I mean seriously, I knew I would move someday...especially after I bought my condo. I dreamed of this move for 7 years, but had you told me I would flip a switch, quit my secure job, and move to Canmore with just the few dollars in my bank account and the clothes on my back I would have told you that you were crazy.

I have always taken pride in being self supporting (to the best of my ability), and like every other person in this world I have come to enjoy certain creature comforts my career has brought, including my little Canmore condo.

So, without resolve, I am throwing myself into my new life.

For the longest of time I have preached, “follow your dreams” “live your best life”, but what does that mean? Was working 70 hours a week for a ceiling career my best life?

Was reaching management my best life?? Or was it just the process of the “American Dream”?

What does my best life look like? If I were to create a world of balance, what would the outcome be?

All I know, is that in the past 2 years I have poured my soul into a career that had many amazing moments, yet, even with those moments it was not fulfilling.

As I sit here, in my little mountain home, the girls snoring softly behind me, preparing to start on my journey I am convinced, no matter the outcome I have made the best decision of my life.

Money is only 1 small part of living. Building a life that fulfills you, the kind of life you wake up every day for excited to be a part of... that is what living is to me.

Over the next few months I have many interesting challenges and questions to fulfill. Do I leave the career path I have chosen to build a career that is better suited but possibly less prestigious, I think that answer is yes, but what is that career, where is that company?

I have the great opportunity to re-enter the real estate world in a marketing capacity, which I am excited to embrace, but can I evolve that role into a full time position?

What I do know for sure is no matter the financial situation; I am excited to embrace the many adventures that are ahead. I just hope that tomorrow I can make my coffee a little less strong, and perhaps use a little less hot sauce on my supper. Oh the Stress of life as an un-employed mountain bum!! Which toque should I wear, where did I put my warm socks, and should I wear my “Hillsong” spikes on my walk or live on the dangerous side of life and attempt the ice??  Welcome to my new reality!!

Embracing the New Year. ATY A Re-cap in its own way.

Bringing in the new year….

“They say life is an adventure, yet we spend so much time following the “American Dream” we forget to take the time to live.” Lisaism 101

It's December 29 and we are gathering at the starting line. It's a chilly morning in Arizona, something my Canadian blood is well adjusted to. I'm standing with my “team”, my human Al and our very dear friend Wayne, who we met at the airport the day prior. Wayne is to return with us in our eurovan Winnie, on the long trek home to my mountain town.
Up ahead is our good friend Dave, affectionately known to me as “she-she”, a name I coined in Italy that has become his running alter-ego. She-she is here to kick ass, and he is ready, with quick hugs all around, the race starts….
I know this course, it's in my blood, each curve, each patch of dirt and pavement, the discomfort the hard packed ground brings, and the comfort of the warm bathrooms through the desperately cold desert night. I’m ready, heart, mind and body. This is my year. I can feel the 200-mile finish in my heart, I can see the final lap, I feel the post race agony in my bones before I take the first step.
I am nothing but an average runner, yet I have trained with the help of a dear friend for a solid year. I know the course and I have a plan. Realizing my potential is going to be easy, as long as I stick to the plan.

And that is where the story should end right?? Girl trains her butt off, drops close to 20lbs in the process, and reaches the glory of a dream realized.... the ever elusive “silver buckle”. But that would be just too easy, too boring, and 100% not my style.

This is only where the story begins.

I don’t know at what point on the first day I realized that I was in the weeds, I just know it happened.

 I was chugging along, my playlist created by friends and family entertaining me, as I focused on the task ahead. My first few miles were ahead of pace and I knew that I needed to slow it down. I was running smart, and feeling great. Seeing old familiar faces scattered amongst the new fresh meat. Feeling pure joy as my body settled into a comfortable pace, my mind was free of thought with the exception of a reflection on the person who may have selected the next new song on my playlist.  Into the late afternoon I circled that track, walking, jogging, singing, dancing round and round I went.  Soon I was joined by our dear friends Jamie and Lori, I had slowed to a 3.75 mile per hour walk pace and was feeling fresh still, it was approximately 7 pm possibly later. They came with fresh HOT pizza and smiles. I grabbed a couple slices and Al, Jamie, Lori and I started to walk the course, Al struggling to keep up, soon after decided he should take a break. I walked and chatted with Jamie and Lori until 10pm enjoying the company, and the laughter.  Just before they left I mentioned to Jamie I was feeling some pinching in the back of my hamstring that was painful, and the interior of my knee. (Jamie is a Chiropractor) He agreed there wasn’t too much you could do to stretch it out, but I did my best anyway.

As Jamie and Lori drove off I continued around the track on my own, the temperature dipping, I came to the spot on the track where our van was sitting. At that moment I had what I call the great internal debate. If I stopped for a few minutes to warm up I risk the chance of not getting out of the warmth and comfort of the van. I know Al is inside, I know I need another layer, I know that entering that van could bring a delay I had not counted on in my race plan. Into the Van I go!

Setting the Alarm for 30 minutes I decided to take a break put my feet up and enjoy chatting with Al a little bit before I enter the second phase of my day. Moments after I snuggled into the bed in the back of “winnie”, the door slides open and our friend Wayne slides in, he is in trouble reaching a low core temperature and fearing hypothermia. All 3 of us cram into the back bed and start chatting.... who knew a Eurovan could hold 3 grown adults in the back??

Agreeing it was just a cold night and we were all miserable I reset my alarm.

230am the alarm goes off, I rolled out of the van leaving my two friends cuddling in the back.  Its crisp and cold, the kind of cold that brutally sets into your body reminding you that its winter, even though you are in the desert.  My plan is simple... to run as many miles as I can before the temperature starts to do the pre-sunrise dip.

My body feels great from the rest, I’m alive and energized. I manage a solid 8 miles before I slink back into the van. Taking 2 hours down time from 5-7 I relax in the back drifting to sleep.  Somewhere close to 7 possibly earlier my counterparts start rustling around. Ready to face the track again. It’s in that moment that I feel something off. My left ankle is not right. With every move there is a crunching in my Achillies, like an old rusty door hinge stuffed with gravel.  There is a dull ach in my bones and my brain is struggling to compute. WTF is going on. I say to Wayne “hey, you gotta feel this”. Upon feeling the grinding Wayne immediately tells me to get to the medic tent, that its tendonitis of the ankle and I need an expert opinion.

Enter my favorite Medic ever. I mean this guy was so passionate about treating us runners it gave me the giggles. Al and I sat in the warm medic tent while my new best friend wigged out about the crunching, a phenomenon he has never felt before, almost like bone rubbing on bone, but not bone.  After calling his superior for a second opinion he gently told me my race as done. His strong suggestion that I may have a small tear and be headed for a complete blow out stuck in my mind as I hobbled my way out of the tent.

I managed 16 miles day 2, 16 miles, lots of tears and anger, frustration and finally acceptance. If I was not to continue in this race to compete for a goal I was going to enjoy my “ride”. This was the race my good friends were joining for the new years 24 hours, the race where I had the honor of watching my friends “She-She’ and Wayne, my new friend Kim. This was going to be an experience instead of a race and I was going to be O.K. with that.

With a new mental approach I crawled into “Winnie” to put my feet up while Al took us to find some food. Al, who had been my champion all day. Washing my feet with baby wipes so he could massage my inflamed ankle. Bringing me beer while I sat with my feet up and heckled my fellow runners. Putting up with my ups and downs, laughing with me, consoling me and encouraging me to go on even though he deeply felt I should withdraw.

I can only attribute my next wave to Al, and his diligence in massaging my calves, hamstring and my Achilles. When I woke up the following morning wedged in the back with Wayne and Al, it was early, the earth was cold and dark, and something was off again. The crunching had been replaced with a burning sensation and mild pain. This was something I understood, something I could manage and monitor. So I rolled out of the van again and somehow I started to run. A free loose run, the kind that feels so good, almost like your floating. I had 56 miles to go to hit 100 miles, and I felt that I would be able to achieve that before the end of the race. So I adjusted my goal for the final time and set forth to beat my personal distance best of 101 miles.

I will not say that last day was easy. Sure, we had an influx of new runners, including some of my dearest friends. Yes, the energy was invigorating. But nothing could take away the pain as I circled the track.  I tried to run smart. Resting and elevating my feet as much as I could gradually slowing to a hobble.

106 miles, 6^th place female overall for the 72 hours I reached a personal distance best, and made it halfway to my goal.

For some this would be considered a disappointment, defeat.  Others would not understand how I could be content with this end result knowing the effort I put into the race. The long hours of training.

You see, I run for a different purpose. I run for me. I don’t run to be the best, the fastest, the most epic, for I am but an average runner.  I run to change my heart and soul...to connect with others and myself. To spend 2 hours walking slowly with my old friend Dan while he tells me about his congestive heart failure and the struggles they have been having due to his daughter’s migraines. To encourage a man I hold in such high regard, because he was suffering and ill. To hug this same man 30 hours later and tell him I’m proud of him and see just how touched he was by those words, this man who holds a world record. To spend another year following the amazing “Jester” and his train horn, to do a 3 legged race-walk with “She-She”as he powers around the track. To be hugged and encouraged by the amazing Marie Boyd, to tear up over Jill’s success, and to make new friends on the course... friends like my fellow Canadian Kim and onsie Carl. To watch my dear friend Calli toss out 100Km.  To laugh at Susie as she runs in the middle of the night in a sports bran and tights, chugging beer every quarter mile. Mostly I run to let my heart be touched by all those around me.

The impact of ATY on my heart is the main reason I keep going back. The race itself sucks. Sure it is amazingly managed, the crew does a fantastic job putting the race on. And where else can you get warm flushing toilets in an ultra. But the course is unforgiving. It is hard packed and concrete like in nature. It can defeat even the strongest of runners. But it’s the soul of this event that brings me back year after year. The Smiles on familiar faces, the conversations as the miles tick by. The friendships only to be found again next year at ATY.

Yes we all run for different reasons, I run for me, to change my heart and soul...to connect with myself and with others...and mostly, to be free.