Classified information

obligatory plane wing-in-sunset shot before take-off in Vancouver. 

A few posts ago, I entitled my entry ‘de-classified information’. That was in respect of racing a para kayak. This past week, I was officially classified to race V-1, the para outrigger. I travelled to Montréal to partake in the classification process, and it was successful. In the eyes of the International Canoe Federation, I'm officially disabled enough to be worthy of that particular boat.

Stuck a maple leaf on my paddling prosthetic just to
remind myself of "what's possible" each time I take a stroke. 

Don’t get me started on how being a partial hand amputee does not make one worthy of also being a para kayaker. Who needs fingers to hold a paddle?! It is what it is, though!

Same tree. Same idiot. (editors note: it hurts more to
 do this with a hand with missing fingers. I didn't love it). 

Finish line at the Bassin Olympique.
This happens to be a women's canoe event. 

SO aaaanyway, the classification was part one of the trip to Montréal. Part two was to race in a couple of national team trials sprints to see if qualifications for the 2015 worlds could be achieved. In a word: no. Neither Saturday nor Sunday did I manage to post a time that qualified. I was disappointed in this, as I have been training on times well within the range I was trying to achieve. My Saturday race, admittedly, was sloppier than I would have liked. The Sunday race actually went quite well, though in different, generally slower conditions. I managed to post the exact same time on both days. Logically, then, had I put down as clean a race on Saturday as I did on Sunday, I may have put in a qualifying time. Ah well, no sense over thinking this. 

In general, I am happy with my weekend. Many objectives were achieved. I am classified. That’s a big weight lifted. I know where my time stands where before I did not, and I know where I need to improve.

A third aspect to the weekend: a return to the Montréal race course that I haven’t paddled on since 1997. Nostalgia couldn't help but play a role in the weekend. As I paced around the compound, I recalled the victories my wife enjoyed back when we were teens (she was a national champ that year, on that course). I myself enjoyed my best single boat showing as a teenager that year, getting into a K1 final. Camaraderie with team mates, humid summer weather, exploring a new city—all of these memories came flooding back to me. Granted, I had all my fingers back then. There's no accounting for every circumstance, I suppose.

Guess you could call this... a... hand bag? 

I revel in the fact that the sport that gave me so many experiences and lifelong friends—not to mention girlfriends, and my wife!—is affording me a second existence of new friendships, new explorations and the continuation of racing in a sport that is so ingrained in my life. 

So, I didn’t post a championship-qualifying time… for now. But that’s OK. in the 18 years since I came to this spot in Montreal last, I know I’ve already won quite a lot.  

Ahh, progress. three photos side by side in 1997 vs. a panorama in 2015 taken on this thing called a "smartphone". 

Kids say the darndest things…

“She’s such a psychotic b*tch!”

These very words were uttered from the lips of my (usually) sweet six year-old son. He was referring to his sister. How could it have come to this?!

Let’s back it up a touch, shall we?

It was in the days after my daughter’s fifth birthday. She had received a build-your-own birdhouse kit, which she was working on during the day with our nanny. The work in progress sat on our dining room table. I was busy preparing dinner one evening, and my son, Sacha, approached the birdhouse with the intention of showing his sister, Heidi how the roof was to be put together. The exchange went something like this:

“Here, Heidi, let me show you how this goes together” (subtext: “I want to work on this”)

“No, Sacha!” (subtext: this is my project. Hands off.).

“I just want to show you how this goes! GAWD!”

*chaos ensues *

“OK Sacha, hands off the birdhouse, come sit over here for a few minutes and cool off.”*Sacha lays down on the floor feeling sorry for himself* “Heidi  wants this to be a project for her, during the day, and it’s her birthday present, so let’s respect that. I know we share, but you guys are getting really mad at each other, so cool it.”

With the kids separated and “calm”, I returned to the kitchen.  

And then I heard Heidi’s war cry. She was not, it seemed, content with the situation quite yet.

“I AM COMING OVER THERE TO HURT YOU!”

And with that, she charged across the room, having made her choice. She dropped a chest-stomping left foot onto Sacha’s rib cage, WWE style.

*Chaos reigns once more*

Heidi was in her deepest pits of rage now, and she needed to be moved. After making sure Sacha was OK,  Heidi was taken upstairs to scream her head off by herself in her bedroom.

Back downstairs to Sacha.

“Hey buddy, you OK? I’m sorry that Heidi chose to use her body instead of her words like that.”

And there, from his position lying on the floor, he looked up at me and said "it".

“She’s such a psychotic b*tch!”

This, dear readers, was one of my finest parenting moments, I have to tell you. 

You will be amazed to learn I didn’t break out into fits of laughter, though Sacha caught  hint of a smile immediately tug at the corners of my mouth, and a glint appeared in his eyes. Quickly wiping any hints of the humour from my face, I gave a short and stern dad-style lecture about hurtful, powerful words, strong language, yadda yadda yadda.

Quickly, It dawned on me that this was not the run of the mill profanity and my course of inquiry changed.

“Sacha, WHERE did you even hear words like this?! Mum and dad don’t ever speak like this”

“NOWHERE,” he said, ruefully.

“It must have come from somewhere. Are kids at school talking like this?”
“NO! I’ve never heard these words before.”

Imagine my surprise, to learn that it was my own son who introduced these words into the English language.

****************

This accounting is the most extreme we’ve had in our house, but the use of the occasional “swear” is on the rise in our house. Without a doubt, some of it has been picked up at home. I am guilty of the occasional F-bomb front and center with the kids. Not directed at them, but if I stub my toe, cut myself chopping vegetables, or whatever.

Increasingly, though, the playground at school is a source of all sorts of choice language, either during school with the kids up to grade three (our school is an annex), or after school when kids from “the big school” come around to play in the annex fields).

So far my biggest challenge is keeping the idiot smile off my face when we’re treated to this colourful language. The best we can do as adults is try to curb our own foul mouths, and talk frankly and openly about why those words are totally inappropriate.

In any case, the time has finally come in our house.

We’re instituting The Swear Jar.

.25 cents per youth offence, $1 per adult offence, with proceeds to charity.

Why do these kids have to grow up so fucking fast anyway?

ARGH! There goes the first loonie.

*sigh* 

Donating blood: The Interview

FINALLY going back to donate blood today after a shameful, multi-year hiatus. Looking forward to my entrance exam, which usually goes something like this:

*usual review of lengthy questionnaire, then consultation…*

"Hmmm, interesting scar you have on your left forearm there.”

*Nurse's pulse begins to race*
“It’s a grafting scar leftover. I don’t shoot heroin if that’s what you’re thinking”
“Graft?”

*nurse's pulse begins to race faster*

“Yeah. You’ll note I chopped off some fingers. Docs tried to reattach them but they needed some extra vein length”

“OK well, that should be fine. Ah yes, I see it on your file. Your tetanus is up to date, though?”
“Yeah, don’t worry, I manage to critically injure myself once every decade just to be sure I get the tetanus shot.”

“When was your last tetanus shot, then?”

“June 21st, 2010”

“Oh, that’s very specific. How do you know the date?
“My two year old son sent me to hospital when he split my head open with his teeth. Long story. Happy birthday to my son, happy fathers’ day to me.”
“Any resulting illnesses?”

“It almost went septic, but I managed to avoid that with a week of IV antibiotics and fluids”
“Almost… went septic?”

Yeah, this is what the screening room looks like when
they leave to check your file. exciting stuff. 

*Visible beads of sweat begin to appear on nurses brow*

“Yeah, all good though. I got a note on my file about that, even though I haven’t been in to donate for years.”
*Nurse goes to find file notes, comes back*

“Okay found it.… Any other surgeries or illnesses in your history?”

“Hepatitis A.”
*more sweat on nurses’ brow*

“Sorry… hepatitis?”

“Yes. A type. The curable one. The one I got follow-up blood tests and clearance letters from my doctor for, specifically so I could continue to donate blood. It’s in my file.”

*Nurse goes away again for a while*
“OK so we can’t find that in your file. How did you contract Hep A?”
“Working at Earl’s restaurant, far as anyone knows. Inconclusive investigation from the health authority. About that file, please look harder.”
*nurse goes away again*

“OK we found it and it looks like you’re good. Few more questions for you. Have you ever felt light-headed during or after a donation?”
“Yes, once. I passed out on my feet.”
“Oh. And when was that?”
“2002. My front two teeth are fake thanks to that one.”

It's all goooood!

“Any surgeries, piercings or tattoos  in the last six months? “

“Surgery, yes”
*Nurse now wiping sweat from brow*
“What for?”
“Hemorrhoidectomy, if you must know.”
*slough of follow up questions*

“OK, I think we’re done. You feel well today?”
“Yep, fine!”

“Thank you for coming in!”

--------------------------

So this is a lighthearted look at what it’s like for me to go through the screening at Canadian Blood Services. It actually takes me WAY longer to answer their questions than it does for my iron-rich blood stream to pump out 500 ml of the good stuff.

Fact is, it’s worth it. Donating blood saves lives. 

I myself needed a wee nip of donated blood back in the days when I cut off my fingers, albeit it a very small amount. I know there are plenty of exclusionary politics around people who can and cannot donate, but I’m not going to let that stop me from making donations. As I said at the outset, it’s been quite a long time since I made a donation; years, in fact. I hope the visit I am making today gets me back on the wagon!

I'll add a photo to the blog to prove I made it through the interview!

(De)classified information

"Instead of focusing on how much you can accomplish, focus on how much you can absolutely love what you’re doing.” 

I recently quietly disappeared. Details were few. My destination was unclear to many people, my reasons for going not known. My family did not join me. This was a mission I had to complete on my own. I... 

Okay, enough of that. It wasn't that serious. 

For a fortnight in April, I left the usual routine in order to participate in a joint Canada/U.S. Paracanoe/kayak training session in the warm waters in Florida.

Obligatory seabird nature shot.

In around Melbourne Beach, there is a long-established training facility used by sprint canoers and kayakers. You can typically find the Canadian team hiding down there for months at a time during the latter half of the winter as they prepare for the coming racing season. As a teenager, it was a training camp I only dreamed of going to.  

So how did I get there for this para camp, age 35? 

Prosthetic tan lines. #AmputeeProblems

In 2014, I took up sprint kayaking again after a lengthy hiatus from the sport. The para class became part of my motivation for getting back into the swing of things. Paracanoe—or PK1 as the cool kids call it-- will debut during the Paralympics in 2016. I had no ambitions toward the games at the outset of my return to the sport-- para was now being included in local regattas and that was good enough for me. 

Mostly, I was just super itchy to get back to the sport that I loved and had been away from for way too long. 

So, I did some able-bodied racing last year, as well as some para. Things evolved, and this para camp opportunity came along, essentially as a first step for Canadian and U.S. para paddlers on the road to Rio.

Enter the International Canoe Federation (ICF). 

The week before the start of our camp, the ICF met in Venice, Italy to review their disability classifications. I was previously—albeit it loosely--classified as a Legs-Torso-Arms (LTA) athlete.  As in, those elements all worked fairly well. My partial amputation qualified me to race in this particular class.

No longer, unfortunately, due to the new classifications from the ICF, which gives heavier weight to lower body injury / disability.  

errr.... anybody wanna buy a para class kayak? 

I will first of all suggest that I am not going to complain about being declassified as this basically sounds like me complaining about “being too able bodied”. I think they call that 'looking a gift horse in the mouth'? But this was disappointing news, for various immediate reasons: 

• I just ditched my family for two weeks. Whoops.
• Last year, I invested in a para kayak, required to race in the particular class. Money not well spent. Whoops.



This is Jamey, a U.S. V-1 paddler. He's a beast. 

• Oh, and I left work for this camp during one of the arguably busiest times of the year. Whoops.

BUT, there are some silver linings here. I have jumped into a different class of boat called a va’a-- or V1 (again, as the cool kids call it). Essentially, it’s a modified outrigger. And I like it. It is likely that I will still classify for this boat, but the test has to be made this year at the second set of National Team Trials in Montreal in June, just to be sure, so it's possible that's my next step. 

Alas, even if I AM classifiable, the International Paralympic Committee  (IPC) ruled some months ago that this boat will not debut alongside the kayaks in Rio; a disappointment to a number of Canada's elite V-1 paddlers who have been working hard the last few years in anticipation of a paralympic debut.  Perhaps it will debut in 2020 at the Paralympics in Tokyo; time will tell.   

But here's another 'BUT': if the IPC doesn’t see participation from folks with a disability like mine, they will for sure drop this level of disability from their classifications, so I am somewhat behoven to show up at national team trials in June this year to say ‘yeah, people ARE interested’! 

So, stay tuned for more V1 news. In the meantime, have a gander at some of the fun from the Florida trip. It was a lot of great paddling, hard work, and an incredible bunch of people along for the ride. I made a rough cut of a video...it needs work and some more action footage before it's super-awesome, but it's a fun showcase of some super-awesome people. It’s as much a reflection of how pretty the locale was as much as it is about paddling and the paddlers. In any case, early reviews suggest the inclusion of an  ‘up my nose’ paddling shot is a fave. You be the judge :) 

So, it wasn't ALL work. Dinner out on the town! 

Introducing NINO!

Well, I social media'd this bit to death back when we first got him, but overlooked putting it on the blog, so here's a quick one for ya: The Chase family has recently grown by one member! It's a short, furry, yet-to-be-totally trained member, and we're thrilled to have him!

Introducing NINO the Portuguese Water Dog! He doesn't shed which is a nice bonus! We're generally of the 'rescue a dog from the SPCA' state of mind, but one of our family members has developed an allergy to do hair, so we had to get a little more specific than what we could find at the shelter.

Nino was born on Dec. 13th, so he even has a birthday twin within the family, sharing the day with one of his humanoid cousins over in the U.K.!

I'll keep this brief, and I'll post this video here again for anyone who didn't happen to catch it on the first round. Note, this may not play on mobile, so if you want to view it, you have to get yourself to some sort of desktop computer!

Happily for us, by the time we picked him up from the breeder he was already crate trained and (mostly) house broken, so we had an easy(ish) start. Good thing since I just abandoned the family for two weeks to go to a training camp in Florida... more on that next week, maybe!

in the meantime, please welcome Nino!