In the Archives of Unpublished Stuff - "Falling".

2011/01/21

(Yes, the date is correct. It's been collecting digital dust for almost a year, but the info is still golden... to me at least :)

“FALLING!”

“Oh shit”. This is what I thought to myself when I heard Essey shout out from the face of the frozen waterfall. On belay, I braced, braked, and could only watch as he dropped and tumbled 25’ down the ice face and hit the slope with full force. Oh shit, indeed.

I am never one to turn down an alpine climbing adventure, especially in the company of trusted and experienced partners. With them, I’ve had the privilege to participate in backcountry hiking, mountaineering, and climbing, and to take part in skills practice for creating MAs (mechanical advantages with rope & pulleys), crevasse rescue, avalanche rescue, self-arrest (nooo, not with handcuffs… this is with a straight-shaft alpine axe to stop a fall on a steep snow-covered slope) and general area knowledge. I’ve learned a lot, and have gained much respect for the wilderness that makes British Columbia so beautiful. The people I go with are all Army personnel, and as the only civilian who has NOT had the same kind of training, I don’t take it lightly that I will be holding my own. 40-60lb+ packs are the norm, and weather conditions are not always ideal. Where we go, there is no phone reception, toilets, restaurants at the top or conveniently lit runs when darkness falls. Usually the only indication of other human presence will be flagging tape marking a designated route. Maybe.

People buy miniature "serenity falls/fountains/pools/gardens" replicas to add zen to their home. This is the real thing.

Some people ask why I go through the trouble and hardship of such grueling physical tasks, when “fun” things, like ice skating (??), are a safer and more favourable option. But to whom? The quickest and most honest response is “If you have to ask, you won’t understand”. Like when you go into a really expensive store, and there are no price tags… If you have to ask how much the item costs, well, you probably can’t afford it. But I’ll try.

In the middle of crossing a talus slope near the Coquihalla

There are just some people that eschew the status quo. Some in the form of fashion, maybe taste in music, others through political or religious beliefs. For myself, and most of my peers and colleagues, it will be in the form of career choice and/ or physical fitness. I’ve been called crazy too many times to actually ever take offence. Now I just smile and nod. I tend to seek out the challenging, calculated-risk taking, bold and physically demanding activities. Why? It’s who, it’s what I am. I’ve stopped tryin

g to psycho-analyze my motives for always straying off the beaten path. I stopped listening to those who try to beat me down, the haters, and perhaps those envious of my decision to live life, not merely exist. I’ve been criticized for my career choices (which have often put me in a financially unstable position in life); my choice in relationship partners (Another broken heart? I’d rather have loved and lost, than never have loved at all); I’ve been criticized for my mannerisms (too tomboyish); my body type (I’ve been called too small, too fat, and more). I’ve been hurt, insulted, offended, and… inspired. Inspired to do my thing, the way I have been, to be accountable to myself, and if I make a mistake, it’s my fault, no one else’s. So if I want to climb a frozen waterfall, and if you think it’s too dangerous, keep your opinions to yourself. Hey look! There’s an episode of Jersey Shore you may be missing!

I think I went on a bit of a rant there. But the reality of why we go to such extremes for an activity, take such risks, is the reward. If you have never seen – no, experienced – the majestically, breath-takingly beautiful 360º vista of a glacial lake with alpine meadows, snow-covered peaks and blue-ice glaciers surrounding you, you wouldn’t understand. Pictures and videos are one thing, but to have earned it after hours of hard work, you become grateful for so many things – your health, your friends who have accompanied you… Mother Nature, for doing such

great work. You discover your own spirituality when there are no remote controls or traffic lights. You tune into your senses, which have been dulled by overstimulation of big city life – you marvel at a small bright alpine wildflower amidst a neutral landscape, something that would have gone unnoticed on a city sidewalk. You smell strange things… like unpolluted air, not tainted by exhaust fumes, greasy fast food aromas, or expensive perfume. You hear the sound of silence… and it’s heavenly. To touch that glacier that has been there for hundreds of years, but may disappear before the en

d of this century is humbling… and to taste the clean, cold water from that same glacier is simply amazing. To me, those are some of the reasons why “I go”. Like the saying goes – everyone dies, but not everyone lives. THIS, to me, is what living is about. Can you say the same?

I'm standing on a glacier! Wedgemount Lake, Garibaldi Provincial Park, BC

Essey’s fall off that wall of ice, and the events that followed, were the culmination of calculated risk, preparation, skill, practice, judgment, and a bit of luck thrown in. We didn’t just wake up thinking hey, let’s go climb a waterfall. Essey gave me a heads up the week before that there could be some ice climbing in the following week, if the conditions were favourable. I tentatively cleared my schedule for that day, and waited for word on weather, location, and other climbers in our group. Two days before, we confirmed a climbing party of three (myself, Essey, and JP) and tentative location. We would travel to Lytton to assess climbing conditions, and travel further to the Rambles if necessary. The road to Lytton was detoured due to landslides, thus we decided to go directly to the Rambles via the Sea to Sky Hwy.

Rambles Left is a Grade 3 ice climb located along Duffy Lake Road, about 27 kms SW of Lillooet, BC. The drive took about 5 hours due to heavy snow from Whistler onwards. From the road where we parked the truck, we could see the waterfall ice, and we started our approach at approximately 1330.The snow was deep, and the terrain was fairly steep – at times we were on all fours scrambling up the slope. We got to the base of the waterfall probably around 1500h, and started setting up.

Essey started up the slope, and articulated his actions along the way. His regard for safety and details is exceptional, and I felt 100% confident in his abilities. As he climbed, we knew we would not reach the top of the waterfall, because we were short on time as it took us longer than expected to get to the fall’s base. But we didn’t mind, it was about the journey, and just getting on the ice would be fun. We could go to the top on another climb. Essey had two pieces already in and was approximately 12’ above the last screw, preparing to put in a third and start setting up an anchor for top-rope. He didn’t trust his tool placements, and when he went to replace them, they did not hold and he lost his balance and fell. And in that moment, time stood still.

Because the rope was dynamic life safety rope, it has a degree of stretch to it to absorb the weight of the body on a fall. You don’t want to be tied into a static (non-stretchy) rope as a fall could do more damage to the body than ground impact. But because Essey was so far above the last screw, there was a lot of rope that would allow him to free-fall before he would be “caught” by that screw. Too much rope. Even though there was minimal slack in the line from his initial fall, the stretch from that section of rope would make his fall even greater; so much that he didn’t impact until the 30º slope below him, near the first screw.

When he finally stopped tumbling, we shouted out to him and asked if he was ok. Initially he said yes, but when he tried to move, he screamed in pain. I have known Essey for years, and know he has endured an incredible amount of physical suffering in the past. He is definitely no wuss. So to see him in that much pain, and to not be able to rush over to assist, was terrible. It turned out he landed on his knee in a hyperflexed position, and the pain level was 10/10. The only thing I could do was lower him painstakingly down the slope until he got to our base location. We already knew he had some limited range of motion, but the extent of his injury was unknown at the time. As both Essey and I have Occupational First Aid Level 3 certs, plus he with Wilderness First Aid, we were confident we could deal with his injuries locally until we got back to the truck. And that’s when the real test began.

By the time we got Essey stabilized, darkness was falling. We would be descending the rest of the way by moonlight and headlamps. My initial thought was to scramble down while there was still light, jump into the truck and drive to Lillooet where there would be cell reception and I could call for help. Essey did not want to split the group, and felt that because he was mobile, we shouldn’t commit the resources of a SAR team when we would be able to do it ourselves. I was not completely convinced of this, but we stayed together.

The fastest way down for Essey would be to rappel, while keeping his leg straight. On the first pitch, we doubled the rope around a tree and body rappelled down. The idea was to simply pull the rope back to us once we were down, but it was stuck from the melted snow and friction and wouldn’t budge. So I had to scramble back up the slope, manually detach it and bring it down. I was thankful for having trained so many hours practicing the firefighter “hose pull from the tower” drill, because it was the exact same hand motions, except instead of leaning over a ledge pulling up a 40lb roll of hose, I was pulling my own 130lb bodyweight (+ 40lb pack) up the hill. But this wasn’t a drill, it was a real rescue, and there were 2 people waiting for me, so I clumsily hustled it back down with the grace of Godzilla on crampons so we could set up the next pitch.

For all subsequent pitches we rapped down on a single rope (instead of doubled back). We would anchor the rope to a tree, and I would wait for them to clear the pitch so I could unhook the anchor and meet them for the next. The fastest way for me to get down to them was to slide on my butt, instead of picking my way through on foot with crampons. This whole process proved to be effective, but not really efficient, as each pitch took about 45 minutes for the boys to clear. JP would walk ahead of Essey on the rope, clear the path, navigate, search for anchors, and help Essey up the few times he fell. Meanwhile, I waited at the anchor point, trying to stay warm while conserving energy as the temperature dropped, waiting for the signal that they had reached the end of the rope so we could do it all again. I was thankful it wasn’t raining or snowing.

It took us a total of six pitches to get to flat ground. While waiting, I had a lot of time to think about options. Like whether I should have made an executive decision, overridden Essey’s initial determination to stay together, and scramble down for help. About the fourth pitch down, I could see the road from my viewpoint. I could see our truck – so close, yet so far! I could also see passing vehicles. By now we were well past our “return” time, and I wondered if my emergency contact would be trying to contact me.

Then I saw a vehicle stop. And wait. It looked as if the driver was trying to determine what was up with the lone truck (ours) on the side of the road. The driver exited the vehicle and walked a bit towards us; I think he saw our headlamps flashing in the darkness and came to investigate. I faintly heard him ask if we were ok…. Then Essey shouted back “Yes, we’re good, thanks for stopping, just had a little fall but we’re good”. Then the guy got back into his vehicle and drove away. Ok, if I could go back to that moment in time, and if that guy could have heard me, I would have said something vastly different… at the very least, ask him to go on ahead and call our contacts and let them know we were still alive, or maybe alert the RCMP that a group of climbers were self-rescuing down The Rambles… I don’t know, anything except that we were ok. When I reached the boys I articulated my concerns, and Essey conceded that his ego and stubbornness got in the way of letting someone assist us the rest of the way down.

When we finally finished that last pitch, and saw that Essey and JP were in good spirits but as physically exhausted as I was cold, I said that I would run to the road for help. I did, and (here comes the good luck part) within a few minutes, a vehicle stopped and a fellow came to assist getting Essey back to the truck for the last few hundred meters. Turns out the guy was a local Heli-ski guide, knew the area well, AND was equipped to help us. We piled back into the truck and started the long ride home... everybody in one piece and thankful for a happy ending.

Since then, and more than a year later, we have paused to reflect on that day. Regarding my concerned about calling SAR, I asked a friend who is a SAR tech what we could have done differently. He said that as we were equipped and knowledgeable but had an accident, it was the type of call SAR is most useful for. There has been much debate about the misuse of the resources of a SAR team for thoughtless individuals skiing out-of-bounds, or hiking ill-prepared for terrain or weather. But in our case, at the very least, we could have notified them, like a “heads-up” there’s a party of three with one injured heading down; they MAY need help. He said unfortunately, often people that wait too long to be rescued end up having to be recovered. For those of you who don’t know the difference, “Rescue” implies going after people who are still alive. “Recovery” is fetching the dead body. Regardless, he said, in the end, we did the right thing – because everybody got ok alive and ok, and we have learned from the experience. Essey has fully recovered from his injury, and we still train for rope rescue when our schedules allow. He will still be my first pick for climbing partner, and I look forward to many more years of alpine adventures with him and JP!

** NOTE ** I tried to add photos from the Rambles trip, but after I switched to my new MacBookPro, there's been some weird stuff going on and I can't find some photos or albums for the life of me. Trying to get this resolved but it's taken me all night to format this post so I'm publishing it now and will add pics later. Ugh!

Five More Reps

“Five more reps”.

Three small words, but with so much significance.

It was October 24, Day 2 of the IKSFA USA Elite Kettlebell Workshop in Los Angeles, CA, taught by the most highly decorated Russian coaches in the world. We had just endured four – or was it five? – hours of snatch technique, and learned some assistance exercises that I would employ for these last five reps I was determined to complete.

I came into this workshop feeling like the redheaded stepchild of the Kettlebell community – out of place, and prepared to be ridiculed. The ginger waiting to be kicked. This was a workshop for Kettlebells, yes, and I am a qualified practitioner as such. But my training has been focused on “Hardstyle”; as an RKC (Russian Kettlebell Challenge Instructor), I have earned respect amongst my peers as having completed one of the most grueling fitness certifications in the industry. I am proud of my achievement, and happy to call many of my esteemed colleagues my friends. But this workshop in LA was focused on Girevoy Sport – the Kettlebell Competition lifts of Long Cycle (Clean & Jerk) and Snatch, a traditional sport in Russia still in its relative infancy here in North America. I wanted to be well-rounded in Kettlebells, because there is too much infighting in the sport with ongoing debates as to which style is better, who started what, and general bickering that I decided I did not want to take sides but to decide for myself. It’s a lot like riding motorcycles – sport bikes vs. cruisers, and sometimes riders of the two don’t quite understand the other. I have ridden both, but I embrace the whole two-wheeled community. It’s about the ride, and really, it doesn’t matter who rides what, but there is a bond between the two groups that cannot be explained to “outsiders” that don’t ride. If you’re not into it, you just won’t “get“ it. Kettlebells are the same. Those who use them know what I am talking about.

This was supposed to be a “finishing” exercise for snatch technique the Russian coaches had us do. After hours of teaching and practicing, they had us wear cotton gloves to solidify what we’d learned. We were to use a lighter bell; boys were recommended to use a 16 or 12kg bell, and girls an 8kg. There weren’t enough 8s, so I grabbed a 12kg. I’d been practicing with a 16kg most of the workshop anyways, so I didn’t mind. We were supposed to snatch as long as we could before our grip gave way… and our grip was now severely compromised by wearing the cotton gloves. The coaches knew we were tired; we were less energetic than in Day 1, and I knew I wasn’t the only one trying to save my hands for Long Cycle, which was yet to come. So I didn’t think too much when I did a couple of tentative practice snatches with my left hand; I was being careful because I could feel the skin was sensitive and sore to the touch, and I could feel a very small blister forming in the middle of my palm but it hadn’t actually surfaced. So I was chalking religiously, and thankful for the glove that was supposed to help in these kinds of situations.

I had decided on a whim to go to this workshop. I really couldn’t afford to go, as I had been to two other Kettlebell workshop events the previous month – the Association of Tactical Strength & Conditioning Instructors (ATSCI) Kettlebell Specialist Certification in Kent, WA, and to be an Assistant Instructor at the RKC Philly in Exton, PA. But as I thought about how being involved in the kettlebell community – as an instructor and a student -– has literally changed my life, I knew I would be a fool to pass on the opportunity to learn from these legends of Girevoy Sport. So I decided to invest and register. I was on my way to LA.

Practicing on my own during this snatch exercise, I was comfortable. Sometimes I’d wait for a coach to watch and check my form but everyone was busy, so I just started. I was facing the mirror so I could see my technique; I wasn’t trying to beat a time nor was I even counting my reps. I was just trying to concentrate on good snatch technique within the confines of the cotton glove, and go until I could go no more. I don’t even know at what point I noticed Coach Rudnev at my side; I know I did have to tell some people to move from my line of fire because I could feel the fatigue setting in. I also had to turn 90º away from the mirror so the mats lined up forward-back, not side to side, as the possibility of me inadvertently losing my grip and launching the bell was very real. So I focused visually on the white folding chair ahead of me in the distance, hearing Dolby in my head telling me “Don’t look down!”, and dug in.


The coaching staff of the IKSFA is the proverbial real deal. Regardless of the number of trophies, titles and medals they have accumulated, the most striking thing I noticed about them was their humility. It’s a character trait I have observed over the years amongst top athletes, and it has remained a constant trait that all of my personal role models possess. The International Kettlebell Sport & Fitness Academy (IKSFA) is founded by one of the world-renowned athletes in Kettlebell Sport – Sergey Rachinskiy, Honored Master of Sport, Master of Sport World Class, Honored Coach of Russia, 9-time World Champion, 12-time Champion of Russia, and Guinness Book Record Holder. Coach Sergey Rudnev is an Honored Master of Sport, Master of Sport World Class, Honored Coach of Russia, 4-time World Champion, and 5-time Champion of Russia. Who cares if their command of the English language is not so great, and charades is part of the learning process? I did understand that “ooohh… horror show” meant that my technique was not very good, and that praise was not given freely…

The longer I snatched, slowly and steadily, the more I realized that everyone else was done with their glove sets. More people were shouting out words of encouragement, and I could see Nazo had me in her DSLR sights. I even heard her comment about me still keeping going with the 12! But I was in the zone. Actually, it was a whole world of hurt, because I had already done some practice on my left before Rudnev saw me, and so as I slogged away on my right under his watchful eye, Rudnev counted down the last few reps and then said, “SWITCH!” “Oh shit,” was all I could think – I had already done some on my left, and that tender spot in the middle of my palm was surely going to pretty much blow up. But this was one of those lifetime moments, the kind of guidance I’d been seeking, even if for a brief moment of time in this workshop. Rudnev told me to switch hands, so I did.

We all get into ruts. Sometimes potholes. For me, literally, earlier this year, it was accidentally stepping into the hole from a removable security bollard – those metal posts that are installed in pathways to deter vehicular intrusion. Small hole, little step, big hurt. I almost snapped my tibia, but thankfully, I only sustained a soft-tissue injury. I was still unable to run, barely able to dance, for the 2 months following. That was in March. April, I was T-boned in a motor vehicle accident that left me with lateral whiplash. Already unable to run, now I couldn’t do heavy pulls, an essential task in training for the strenuous firefighter physicals. So I figured some relaxation time with the family in Hawaii to celebrate my cousin’s wedding was just what the doctor ordered. I could still swim, and I love the open ocean. Being in the sea, calm, alive, swimming with life… ahh. Until I kicked a prickly sea urchin. Yes, seriously. I actually thought it was a rock, until I got out and saw the two dozen little purple spots on my left foot, each one bearing a piece of the sharp spine of that dreaded creature. It couldn’t get any worse after that! Summer was spend trying to balance healing with training, and neither was optimal. The whole point of me writing all this is to give some background of how I found myself in a training rut. Unable to train to the best of my abilities and limited by my capabilities, I found myself being in need of motivation, instead of always being the motivator. But in the world of training, Vancouver is a small town and good training partners are hard to find. So that’s why I’ve trained by myself for the most part. And at that workshop, I realized that GS was what I needed to become my own motivator.

Sweat was pouring down my face. My gloved hands were trying desperately to find a comfort zone in and around the bell’s handle, and the glove itself was bunching up because it was too big. Tom would try to straighten it out in the lockout position, but it was a futile attempt as the glove would just bunch up again on the downswing. My forearms were screaming; the burning sensationof fatigue was radiating higher the longer I continued. But I felt strangely calm, even though I was struggling for form at the end. Here, it all came together – Rudnev’s voice, my colleagues shouting encouragement, people clapping, the groove of the snatch movements, and more importantly, my mental focus and clarity. I can’t remember feeling more invincible; even if the world crumbled around me, even if my body collapsed, I knew without a doubt I could and would finish strong. So when I heard those three words – “Five more reps” – I knew I would nail it. It was by no means easy, because by now the 12kg bell felt like it weighed 24kg and it wanted to rip my arm from the socket. “FIVE”. Breathe. “FOUR”. Cast it out, lean back. “THREE”. Don’t look down. “TWO”. Lift the heel and absorb with the torso. “ONE”. Park it. I was done. I raised and shook my arms not in victory, but to try to lessen the pain pulsating throughout my limbs. Rudnev came over to shake my hand, and I hugged him. He broke away and called for a translator; Misha came to tell me what he was saying. “You have it all,” said Rudnev. “Technique, athleticism… and the character to become a champion.” It was a truly humbling moment, one I will treasure, one I will never forget.


This post has gone on much longer than I had originally planned (since I started it at the end of Oct!). But I am still reveling in that moment, even as I write today. I realize I’ve missed writing, so I’m going to try to capture all the things I’ve been thinking about after that a-ha moment. Welcome to my blog!

Up in Smoke

No need to be creative or witty for this next post. After endless months of preparation, countless hours of training, and unlimited optimism for a fairytale ending, yet another goal of mine has come crashing down in a cruel slap of reality. Once again, my best was just not good enough. I was unsuccessful in the Vancouver Fire Rescue Panel interview, and will not be moving forward in the selection process.

No chance to wow 'em with a fantastic medical, nor for my references to (hopefully) speak words of praise. And after doing everything humanly possible to ensure I would kick ass on the Combat Challenge, I won't be given the chance to redeem myself from past failures and prove myself physically capable of rising to the challenge. Heartbroken doesn't even come close. I felt in my SOUL I was meant to be with Vancouver. But my heart's been fickle to me this past year, so don't ask me what's next. There are no words of solace left, because I wrote the book on bouncing back from hard times and overcoming obstacles. I'm a living cliche. Fuck. $2, I know. Fuck it. $4. Shitballs. Make it $6, Puta madre, a la verga, mierda, hijo de puta, cabron, gillipollas, JODER. Put it on my tab.

No more writing for today. I'm empty.

But I'm not done.

It's not over.

I. will. not. quit.

Devastation on the North Shore

2009/12/30

In writing this entry, I wasn’t too worried that too much time will have passed after the North Shore Fire physical, because that was one of those days that I will remember in explicit detail for the rest of my life. I keep reliving snippets of it, second-guessing that maybe I could have done things different/ better/ faster/ stronger, questioning if I had the right mind-set going in, wondering if I really gave it my all. And I keep getting the same answer – I don’t know. So much has happened since then, but I feel a sense of duty in recording the happenings of that day, and to never forget the feelings I had before, during, and after.

I was still spiritually bruised from my Surrey debacle, and still had that cloud of self-doubt hanging heavy over me. I was not exactly confident going in, as a number of my well-meaning FF friends reminded me that this test would be difficult at best. For the first time, the three North Shore departments (West Vancouver, North Van City, and District of North Van) were doing a joint application process, and an amalgamated 2-stage physical.

The first stage was to do the Fit-Tech Assessment at the JI in Maple Ridge. It’s a baseline standard test comprised of nine separate components:

1) Resting heart rate and blood pressure
2) Body composition
3) Hand grip
4) Flexibility
5) Push-ups (1 minute)
6) Sit-ups (1 minute)
7) Upright row (65 lb barbell)
8) Equipment shuttle run
9) 1.5 mile run

I did this test last year and scored an 87% overall, with the upright row and shuttle run bringing down what would have been a consistent score in the high 90’s. Basically, the hiring department wants to know you won’t DIE on the Skills and Abilities testing session. This time around, August 16th, I improved in each component so I felt pretty good about going into the North Shore S & A.

Well, they tested 92 guys and 3 girls over 2 days, Sept 12-13, and I got news down the grapevine that Day One was brutal. Quitting, puking, collapsing in the tower and going to the hospital… I knew this North Shore physical was going to be the toughest yet, even harder than Surrey’s, but holy crap, this was not a good confidence-booster! But the only thing I could do was give it my all.

September 13. My turn. The North Shore Skills and Abilities testing is a series of tasks that are typical to the position of Firefighter. Tasks for the first test include a tower climb and hose raise, coupling exercise, hose drag and discharge, ladder raise, ladder extension and victim drag. Confined space room search and 100’ aerial ladder climb are separate components done after the first test. Sounded simple enough. I’ve done those elements numerous times, except the 35’ ladder raise. 24’ yes, but the whole 35’ is another story. That MF is big and heavy, and even in training at Fire Academy and Abbotsford I never had to raise the whole thing, just to the required height of the building we were to ladder. And even as a trainer, nothing can really simulate that in the gym, even odd object training, so I couldn’t get good practice for it. But, no time like the present! HA!

The Tower Climb was special. Yes we were in full PPE minus SCBA, yes we had an apartment pack to carry up, but that was standard. No, for North Shore, we had to carry an EXTRA 40lb duffle bag. Awkward, yes. Easy, no. Needless to say, I could not run up those stairs, so I took a step at a time. My proctor was very encouraging and said I was going at a good pace. At the top, I dump everything in the designated area, then proceed to the hose raise. A 40lb roll of large diameter hose suspended by rope, and I just pulled it up with a reverse grip as I had practiced many times. I think I surprised them at how smoothly I did it. Then hustle back down the stairs, touching every step of the way to the…

… Hose Coupling station. Connect, disconnect at a standpipe, connect, disconnect 2.5” hose couplings, connect & disconnect a 2.5” hose to a nozzle. That was easy; again, I had practiced and so just tried to keep focus and regulate my breathing for the ass-kicking I was about to get, but not before the…

… Charged hose drag. Throw a charged (full of water) 1.5” hose over the shoulder, run and drag it towards a target about 75’ away, open the nozzle (set from a fog pattern to a straight stream) and squirt away. Dragging the last few feet, I think I was nearly horizontal leaning forward, the friction from the entire length of charged hose stretched out was incredible. But mission accomplished.

Next was the 24’ ladder raise. I’ve done this in virtually every physical test I’ve taken, so it was pretty easy – a ladder is lying on the ground, and I just have to walk it up against the building, rung by rung. Awkward because the helmet puts my head at an angle and limits my vision, but it’s a straightforward task.

Then the ass-kicking begins. The 35’ ladder extension. Basically, you have to pull the halyard (rope) of this 3-section ladder (anchored to the wall), in a downward motion, which raises up each section of the ladder one by one. The evil part about this is that the first section is the lightest, so it goes up fairly easy. Then it picks up the second section, and now it’s not fun anymore. In fact, it hurts. The grip weakens, you’re breathing hard, your body is screaming, and if you are 5’4” and 130lbs like me, you are really thinking another 10” in height and 75lbs would sure come in handy about now. But I didn’t magically grow, and the ladder wasn’t going to raise itself, so I just had to dig in and keep pulling. I had to lock the dogs off near the top, just to take a breather, lest the whole thing slide back down faster than you can say “gravity”. Once I hit the top, I lowered it back down, and was on to the final station – the victim drag.

By now I’m unbelievably fatigued, but there’s still a 175lb dude named Randy wearing full turnout gear I need to rescue. But apparently Randy is in a difficult-to-get-to, difficult-to-egress from spot, because instead of a straightforward, out-and-back course, I must drag him zigzag around cones, 50’ and 50’ back. Moving any cones would be a 5 sec penalty. I know I wasted a lot of time on the 35’ ladder, A LOT, so I knew I had to hustle like nobody’s business if I was going to pass. I had no idea at the time WHAT time standard I had to meet, but I knew I was pushing it. While the dummy is no stranger to me, and we have this love-hate relationship, he doesn’t complain about me manhandling him. So I got as best a grip I could, and dragged away. Uh oh. This was going to be a bitch. I was so slow, the serpentine pattern I had to follow was hard to do, and my grip was slipping. It usually does, because I can’t reach all the way around him like most guys can, so I always end up doing isometric bicep curls with him trying to stay upright. It’s so hard navigating around those damn cones! I have to change my grip a few times, until finally I toppled backwards and Randy landed on top of me. Not kinda off to the side, no, he was square on top of me. Body, arms, legs, everything. Thank goodness I have years of judo under my belt, because I did a classic escape move, pushed him away from me, and got myself back up. I even vaguely heard a guy cheer me on, calling my name. (Thanks Burnsie!) I’m pretty sure I was out of time by then, but I was not going to stop until the proctors made me. Actually, I don’t think they thought I was going to get up after he fell on me. But I am the embodiment of “indomitable spirit”, and I refused to quit. They didn’t stop me, I didn’t hear any whistler or alarms, so I dug deep and kept on going. One ugly backwards step at a time. Visualizing a round, red, angry face screaming at me. Finally, with about 20 feet to go (I think), they stopped me. Time was up.

I failed.

Again.

No Confined Space Course to navigate.

No Aerial Ladder to climb.

I was done.

And completely devastated.

That was the end of another unfinished journey.

I peeled off the layers and made my way to the cooling tent to be monitored. Well hey, at least I didn’t puke, pass out, or need to get transported by EHS. But I knew that there were only 3 girls that made it this far, and the 2 others had already failed. I knew the proctors, and my acquaintances, were really pulling for me to pass this. I felt like someone had yanked out my heart, not from the physical stress, but from the emotional upheaval of another failure. I stayed to watch the guy behind me, as long as I could. They had to break for lunch, so I went back to the truck in a zombie-like state. Only then did I start sobbing, wow, even Surrey didn’t hit me this hard. I just couldn’t let it go. I still can’t.

I have since been told that there was about a 30% fail rate for this new testing standard, which is apparently pretty high. It makes me feel a little better knowing that I wasn’t the only one who got their ass handed to them that day. I also heard I made it farther than the other girls, and although I’ll admit being the first to try to erase gender lines, I did feel a bit proud. I do know that this failure did not deter me in any way, and I will learn from my weaknesses and do better next time.

And “next time” could be here soon. As 2009 draws to a close, and I think about all of the hardships I’ve overcome this past year, I can’t wait to get a kickstart on 2010. New direct, new vision, new goals, and a new determination for victory… On Jan 22, I have an interview with Vancouver Fire Rescue. I made it past the online application, the 4 hours of written exams, the resume screening, and now the Panel Interview. Wish me luck! More blogging, more frequently, to come… I promise!

Happy New Year to all!

Better Late Than Never - the Surrey Fire Rescue Test narrative

I started this entry in July, sat on it, and completed it today. I thought might forget some things, but as I started to write again, the memories came flooding back in agonizing detail. For those of you who have supported me in my quest for fire, thank you, and I look forward to your input!

2009/07/19

The last three months have been one long rollercoaster ride, and I don’t mean the high-tech, smooth-riding, space-aged coasters with the 5 point-harnesses and cushioned seats, I’m talking about the rickety wooden, whiplash-inducing, brain-bruising antiques from yesteryear where only the stupid or the daring let go of the handrails as they scream into oblivion. Yes, that has been my life, and while I am always “too busy” for a number of things, I was actively avoiding the blogoshphere (is that a word?) because, well, I didn’t know what to say.

My blogging hiatus started off on a good note with even better reason – a brand-new relationship with a special someone that looked promising. The connection was instant; the family introductions came quickly, and all our free time was spent gazing into each other’s eyes and making the rest of the world gag at our newfound happiness. Not to go on, but the relationship was not meant to be and we parted amicably. What it was, however, was a blow to the ego, and caused me to doubt who I WAS, who I wanted to BE, and what I thought I WANTED. During this time, I was actively pursuing a coveted spot in the Surrey Fire Department and taking each agonizing step towards that elusive goal mine – that of becoming a career firefighter, once again.

So for a while, I was unfocused when I needed to be laser-like; my thoughts floating on clouds of self-doubt when I needed to be on solid ground, and I shrouded myself with a cloak of negativity when I needed to be positive. But with the support of a very patient network around me, I got back in the game and gave Surrey my best shot.

I made it past the initial resume screening and was invited to write the entrance exam; I passed that and was scheduled to participate in Stage One (of Two) of the fitness testing on my birthday, July 5. What a present to give myself! Since my mother died six years ago on July 2, every birthday since then has been tortuous. What was supposed to have been a fun family occasion turned into heartbreak as we planned her funeral and tried to pick up the pieces of our shattered lives. This time of the year has always been emotionally trying since then, but, as with all obstacles and challenges that have come my way, I dealt with it the best I could. So I harnessed all my nervous energy and showed Surrey that this old broad could keep up with kids 15 years her junior.

It was a pretty straightforward day; standard fitness testing which included height/ weight/ measurements, sit & reach, grip strength, pushups (no time limit), situps (2 min), and 1.5 mile run. I killed it! It was one of those tests they make you do to make sure you won’t die during the practical fitness test wearing all the gear, etc. I was pretty proud, and confident I would move on to the next stage the following week. I did, and waited one tortuous week for the fateful day.

I knew what the tasks were, and thought I had trained appropriately. I also knew Surrey’s Skills physical was notoriously difficult, but all I could do was give it my best shot. There were 3 skills at 3 different stations, 9 total tasks to complete. There was a time frame, but they were not disclosing what the limits were. That’s what throws me. For CPAT, I know I have 10:20 to hustle before the countdown alarm beeps that the test is over. The first time I did CPAT, I didn’t know how to pace, and timed out. The second and third times, I knew exactly and was successful. But for the Surrey test, I had no idea how to pace myself.

The first stage consisted of the aerial ladder climb, dummy drag, and confined space maze. Aerial is not a problem for me; I love the rush and the view at the top is oh-so-cool! Next I did the dummy drag; it was different than any that I’d done before because we had to go under barricades and in serpentine fashion, but it wasn’t so bad, probably because it was so close to the beginning. Next was the confined space with blackout mask. Basically they test for claustrophobia, and see where your confidence level is at. Again, not a problem for me.

Then the Tower Station. Oh, the Tower Station. This is where I knew I would be challenged. Not impossible, because I can DO the tasks, but in a timely manner was another story. First, we had to simulate an extension ladder raise by hoisting an LDH (large diameter hose) roll up the tower via pulley, lower, then repeat. Well, the first time was ok, not easy, but doable. The second time was harder. I got it up, but once the hose roll hit the pulley, it bounced and pulled the rope out of my hands! So I had to do it a third time, which, well, took everything I had to complete. It was not at all pretty. I fact, the proctor told me I was allowed to bypass one station, and I could move on if I chose. Well, there’s no way I was going to quit and move on. Maybe that was a dumb move on my part, but I couldn’t leave a task undone. So I finally completed my third set, then up the tower I went. We had to carry a hi-rise bundle of hose, about 40lbs, up the stairs, switch shoulders, down the stairs, and repeat. Then go up the stairs with nothing for the final 3rd. I’m ok with stairs and hose; I chose not to run up and down but tried to keep a steady pace, so I had some energy for the last drill. The part I was MOST worried about, because it’s difficult to train for. From the top of the tower, we had to raise a roll of LDH hose to the top of the railing, lower, then repeat. Most departments make their candidates do this once, but Surrey was twice. Great! Given that my grip was already shot from my 3 hose raises, I knew this was going to be a huge task for me. And it proved to be. I tried many different techniques; I was even allowed to step on the rope to take an active “rest”, but for the first time, a negative thought flashed through my mind – “Oh my. I may actually NOT be able to complete this task!” I was stunned that I actually considered this, but the mind does funny things under stress. Well, tick tick tick, it took everything I had, I could hear the guys down below cheering me on, so I summoned up all of my strength and got ‘er done. But it was uuuuugggglllyyy!!

And it was only 2/3 over. We still had another station of 3 drills to go. I actually thought it wouldn’t be so bad – drag 190lbs of hose on a sled out and back; ladder balance walk, and 100lb LDH hose carry. I know I can do all of THAT because I had trained for it… I thought.

I have this big tire at the Y, and I would load it with extra weight, fix a makeshift harness around it, throw on my 50lb weight vest, and drag it behind me. Not easy, but I trained. So the actual test was good, because the weight was lighter, and the harness was cushier. I didn’t sprint since I was almost already horizontal trying to leverage that sled properly, but completed the task. Next, I had to carry a hydrant kit across a 14’ roof ladder horizontally, raised about 6” off the ground. Done. Finally, the LDH carry. I have sandbags, KBs, sloshpipe and other awkward pieces of equipment I used in my training for this, but nothing prepared me for the sheer immensity and awkwardness of 2 x 50’ lengths of 4” LDH in an unsecured straight roll that is approximately 3’ in diameter, weighing in at 100lbs. This was the LAST station. And I would be done. 50’ out, 50’ back. On paper I thought it would be pretty straightforward, as 100lbs is and easy weight for me. But after the supreme ass-kicking I got at the Tower Station, I was running on empty with nothing left in my reserve line. But I gave it my best. The roll was lying inconspicuously on its side on the tailboard of a fire truck parked in the bay. Deep squat, try to find a comfy (-ish) hold around the roll, deadlift up, turnaround and walk. The secret to lifting heavy stuff is to have it close to the body. Well, being 5’4”, that roll covered up my face and vision, so I had to lower it so I could see where I was going. I made it all the way to the halfway point, but at the turnaround, my arms gave way and the roll slipped from my grasp. Great. Now I had a 100lb roll of unsecured hose on the ground that I had to pick up. Awkward, awkward, awkward. I kicked myself for dropping it, but my forearms were shot. I managed to get it back up off the ground, made it about 15 more feet, and down she went for a second time. I knew I wasn’t allowed to drag it, but I did know I still had some juice left in my legs. So I tipped it upright, shoved my hands through the folds, loaded my hips, and gave it an explosive swing forwards, Kettlebell hard-style. I did that the rest of the way, put it back on the tailboard, and hung my head in shame at my pathetic performance.

I knew in my heart it wasn’t good enough to pass, but I didn’t receive confirmation until a few days later. Thanks but no thanks, and there went one more opportunity for me to fulfill a dream two years in the making. I wasn't crushed, but disappointed that again, I let myself down.

So that is my Surrey Fire story. I’m working on the blog entry for my North Shore application, which will come shortly. I’ll leave more narration for that entry, but right now, it’s time for me to get back to training.

Until next time,

TD

Why do people look at me funny when I train in the gym....?

I tend to go to the gym during the off-peak hours, when there aren't a lot of members around or classes in session. Although I rarely use the weight equipment, I sometimes use a few things like the squat rack, barbells, or cable station. But I do like an empty studio, either to practice hula or to lay out some nutbar circuit. I also use the hallway so I don't, uh, damage the studio floors with my KBs, tractor tire, sandbag slams, etc. Today was no exception - here's what I set up:

Tire station: Flips, pulls; drags
Medium Sandbag 65lbs): Shoulder cleans; Zercher Squats
Light Sandbag (37 lbs): Burpee snatches
Vertical Hose Pull (using squat rack): various rope handling techniques
6', 3" Sloshpipe: Ladder cleans & O/H walks; forward walking lunges; walking presses

Basically, I just did SOMETHING at each station. I didn't have a set routine, just a general idea of what I wanted to do as I moved through each station, but I kept the flow. I certainly did get a lot of strange looks, but as we say, f**k 'em! Yeah, I know my stuff is more fun than curls. My workout was short, intense, and functional, not to mention entertaining!

Questions? Comments? Hit me up!

trish

Training Tidbits

Wow, time flies when you ignore your blog. My apologies for another lengthy delay in scribing! I've just been pondering different options I have for training as I hurry up and wait for fire dept recruitment and application processes to move along. As such, it has been difficult to plan my sports and training - so many choices! Yes, we're entering volleyball pre-season, and I wanted to be able to hold my own before embarrassing myself on court #4 at Kits Beach! I was also looking at returning to the mats and getting back into judo... not to mention kayaking, climbing, and hiking. Too much pondering, not enough action. Ever happened to you? Sometime you just gotta say f**k it, and do something. So here's what I did over the last 3 days:

Wed April 8: Kits Beach Blast

With minimal equipment, I mosied on down to Kits Beach for a quick session on a cool, overcast day. I grabbed a my 10lb sledgehammer & fire gloves, a 16kg kettlebell, and my TRX Force Trainer. I set up a simple 3-station circuit, and came up with a flexible program.

• 10 L / 10 R: Sledgehammer swings (Overhead OR horizontal forcible entry style OR
• 10 L / 10 R: Kettlebell Snatches OR Thrusters OR Diagonal Cleans
• 10 L / 10 R: TRX 1-arm pushups; 1-arm side rows; contra-lateral & ipsilateral pistols

I ended up doing mostly overhead sledgehammer swings since there was a homeless person sleeping beside my "usual" log for horizontal sledgehammer swings and Kaiser smashes. Then I cycled through various exercises for about 5 rounds. Here's the setup:

Thursday April 9: Quick & Dirty Double KB sequence

I decided to go to the gym because I wanted to warm up with an hour of hula practice before digging in to a Q&D (quick & dirty) KB workout. So after I danced, I brought out 2 x 12kg KBs and took over the floor outside the studio:

• 10 closed-stance double front squats
• Bear crawl 15 - 20 paces
• 10 Renegade Rows
• Bear Crawl 15 - 20 paces
• - opposite direction -
• Double Burpee Cleans
• Walking alternating presses
• 10 Alternating cleans
• Walking alternating presses

I only had time to do that sequence twice, but it was still a fun time!

Friday April 10: Cambie Bridge Stairs (10 sets)

• This one is too simple: Run from my condo in Yaletown, around the False Creek Seawall to the south side of the Cambie Street Bridge stairs, and do 10 sets non-stop. Continue over the Cambie Bridge to the north side, then run home. Even better when done with a friend for motivation... thanks Boo:-)!

I'm off to Vancouver Island this weekend, for some R&R with family and friends. Standard in my truck fitness toolbox:

• One each of 8-12-16 kg kettlebells
• 10lb sledgehammer & fire gloves
• TRX Force Training Kit
• Lebert Buddy System
• Various resistance Ripcords tubing
• Beach Volleyball
• 2 x footballs (mini & reg size)
• Basketball
• Baseball & Glove
• Skipping Rope

I'm sure there's other stuff I've forgotten about that are at the bottom of the box, and I have no idea what kind of workouts I'll be getting in, but I have no excuses! Have a Happy Easter!