Catherine Bancroft

rainbows

It’s Sunday morning, and I’m craving a few moments of quiet time.

Down time is something that I savour this year, as I’m in constant motion.  I join my family at the church where I grew up, in London. I need time to reflect.  We show up and my mom has forgotten that she is supposed to pick up the bread and wine and offer this to people during communion.  I offer to help her.  We go up to the balcony and I am enveloped by the music.  I feel that social awkwardness of not knowing what to say, not knowing what I’m doing.  As people walk up, one by mom, my mom calls them by name, they look at her, and I’m clearly her side kick.  I can see her connection with people and that they are looking for hope.  An old family friend walks up, stands in front of my mom, and as my mom says her name, my mom’s eyes fill with tears and so does the woman in front of her.  Her three daughter’s that I grew up with have gone just before her and are waiting just beside my mom. I feel their protection of their mom.  I see that my mom’s connection has reached her, and as she walks away, almost nothing has been said, and she and her three daughters are filled with tears.  I ask my mom later and she says that the woman’s husband is very ill.  I am in awe of my mom’s ability to offer people something that can’t be explained.  I feel a deep connection with my mom, and reflect on this community that I grew up in.  I was baptized here.  One of my closest friend’s funeral was here.  My brother was married here.  I am always welcomed back, no matter how infrequently I come. 

We drive that afternoon to have Easter with my cousins, and I’m excited to be with my spirited, zany, full of life family.  During dinner, after eating a litchi fruit, we’ve got the skin on our noses, and I’ve got one of the pits up my nose.  I remember not so fondly how as a counsellor at summer camp in 1989, I’m fully engaged with my kids.  We’re in the middle of arts and crafts, and I’ve got one of those styrofoam pieces up my nose.  Ofcourse, my kids start doing the same thing, and one of the boys gets one stuck up his nose.  I quickly rush him to the nurse, explain the situation, and they pull out the styrofoam.  My supervisor comes to see me and explains that as a consequence for my poor choice, I will be calling all the kids parents and explain the situation.  So, for the next couple of hours, I have the humiliating task of calling each parent and saying, “Hello, Mrs. X, this is your daugther/son’s camp counsellor, Catherine.  Unfortunately during arts and crafts, I got a little silly and stuck a piece of styrofoam up my nose and then Jonny, one of your child’s fellow campers stuck a piece up his nose.  My supervisor has asked me to contact all the parents and let them know.”  I can hear the dead silence on the other end.  Like, Why the *%*$*  are you calling me?  I want to say, “Well, my supervisor, in order to teach me a lesson, has put me through this humiliating task.”, but refrain.

Through rolls of laughter, between sticking litchie skins on my nose, and moving from bending over laughing on the couch, to forgetting we have guests that I may want to impress, I remember that not all families are like this. 

After dinner, my mom, my cousin (Jenny’s mom), and I are in the kitchen.  As Jenny’s mom snuggles up to me, she says that April 2nd was the 26th anniversary of Jenny’s death.  My stomach does flips.  26 years.  We talk about the impact for her of living 26 years without her first born child, and as my stomach continues to flip, I feel an inexplicable connection with my cousin, who birthed her first child, and then saw her taken off her respirator on April 2nd 26 years ago.  Jenny would have been 40 this June, and I will be 38 in June.  I assure my cousin that Jenny will be with me every day on the ride.  My connection to this ride deepens through this conversation.  We talk about one of Jenny’s favorite symbols, the rainbow.  I think about all the double rainbows I have seen, and how I find hope every time I see one.  We talk about getting a rainbow tattoo.  We talk about how it could have been different if Jenny was alive.  She wanted to be a vet, where she would be working, who she would be dating, what adventures she would be living.  For Jenny’s mom, these are daily questions.  I think back to when I was 12 years old when Jenny died and the fog I was in when I found out.  I remember the grey cloud over me. There were no rainbows. 

Tonight, I call one of my soul sisters Michelle, who has gone back to Brazil, where we went together 2 years ago, on a spiritual pilgrimage, after her diagnosis with brain cancer in 2006.  I hear the optimism and hope in her voice.  She’s happy to be back.  There are 3 other people from our group there with her as well.  I am wishing I am there with her, and she reassures me she can feel me there with her.  I think about the word cancer.  I think about the hope that the Coast to Coast Foundation is providing for families across the nation. 

I ride from London to Innerkip on Friday, destination 12:35pm to meet three other national riders.  I drive from Toronto that morning early, and leave London at 9:45am on my bike.  I love every moment of the ride there, being on my own, savoring the deliciousness of my new cervelo.  My second time out on the road with it, and I appreciate it even more.  The wind is on my back.  I am sailing.  I arrive in Innerkip at 12:15pm, and I am early.  I have gone approx. 70km’s and I’m feeling great.  I need to eat.  It’s Good Friday.  Nothing is open.  I go into the gas station and note the washroom is closed, ah yes, ofcourse, another occasion to pee on someone’s lawn.  Excellent.  I pick up a sandwich from the freezer, and I know it’s going to taste like crap, and yet, I know I need fuel.  I get a call from my comrades, and they’re in a different location.  I go to meet them, inhaling my chicken deluxe, and make a wrong turn, go 20 km’s out of my way and my tank is empty.  If you’re ever seen my tank empty, it’s not pretty.  I can’t function.  I’m dizzy.  I find a golf course, get off my bike, walk in and ask them for whatever food they’ve got.  I go outside, sit down, and start inhaling.  I reflect on how long it has been since I’ve had a hypoglycemic tank, and I remember why I’m never going to have one again.  Linda and Bob show up, and Linda goes to say hi, and falls off her bike.  I can’t decide if it’s my dizziness, or if she did actually fall off her bike.  We ride for a while together and Linda talks about the huge hearts of everyone in this community.  I think about greeting my family across the nation, and flashing my rainbow tatoo to Jenny’s mom as I ride by in Winnipeg.  I think about the living hell that many of the families are going through as we move across the nation, and I can only hope that seeing our commitment will provide them with a rainbow. 

You’re not real to me

My first outdoor ride yesterday!

I have been salivating for 2 weeks excited to finally get my new cervelo on the road. 
We planned for a 97 km route from Kipling to Inglewood, and put out a ride invitation to both our national riders and other friends and it ended up being Eric and I.  Which was good because when I went to take my bike out in the morning, the back wheel was out of alignment and I had to take it into Wheels of Bloor (which I recommend!). 
I laughed to myself as I remembered when I tumbled to the right on my stationary trainer at the London Sears store a couple of weeks ago and thought that could be the reason my wheel was out of alignment. 

Soon after we started the ride, I was officially in bike ectasy.  My whole body goes calm when I hear the turn over swoosh of my tires, and it’s always enhanced when the swoosh is in front and back of me.  Calmness set in, and it’s my time to think, or not.  Although I love looking at my cervelo, I couldn’t have imagined how good it would feel.  Wow, I felt like I was gliding, doing half the work that I was on my bike before.  And then I remembered, ah yes, I have been training for months for this, and yes, the training has paid off.  What a relief to know that all of the knife stabbing burning sensations during repetitive squats and lunges were working! 

My co-pilot Eric and I have joined forces to support each other in the journey, and do some of the fundraising together.  As we made our way up to Inglewood, we stopped for lunch at the Brampton flying school, and I had a steak sandwich.  I had to stay true to my Steak Monster name!  I thought back to my breakfast - Steal cut oats with the usual - different fruits, medjool dates, chai seeds, pumpkin seeds, salba, rice milk; a smoothie, bagel and almond butter, two sausages.  And yet, a few hours later, the steak monster needs the next hit.  I laugh to myself as I think about the cooler or boxes of stuff that I’m going to need to negotiate with the Coast to Coast folks to meet my dietary needs. 

The first part of the ride, I remembered why I was doing this - I am in love with riding.  That may seem obvious to you, and yet, every day is filled with workouts, strength training and stationary trainers, and yes calls and follow up calls for fundraising, and it’s easy forget the feeling I get when I’m riding outside. 

The wind on the way back was intense and I started to think about some of the winds we’ll have on the ride.  Ah yes, the prairies.  I remember that Robert W, a friend who did the ride last year, told me that the prairies were the toughest part.  When he told me that, I thought, I cannot imagine that when it’s all flat.  After the rockies, I could imagine appreciating the flat road.  Amidst the wind, I thought, ah yes, 4 days of this could be interesting. 

The reality of what we’re doing sinks in further.  We’re riding across the country.  I talk about it every day, envision it every day.  But real, not yet.  I’m not sure it will be until we all gather in Vancouver in Sept.

This morning I woke up and felt like I had been in the desert.  My face felt like rubber.  Ah, yes, wind burn, hello!!  Welcome wind burn.  My top lip was vibrating and my face felt puffy and red.  Sunscreen, right, forgot about that.  My mouth was so dry I could hardly open it.  Gotta love the recovery.

We spent 5 hours at Sears Yorkdale today.  When I think of Yorkdale, I think of a full parking lot, relatively high end stores, tons of people, and lots of well off people.  The first couple of hours were, hmmm, how shall I saw it, grueling.  We discussed different ways to word our ask.  Spare change for kids living with cancer?  Spare a looney for kids living with cancer?  I felt like I was asking people to give their life away. 

Avoid eye contact, detour route.

I looked back on our experience in Sears Masonville in London a couple of weekends ago and the stunning response we got there.  Mind you, Ryan and I are both from London so our families were all there to collect donations, and we had people we knew drop by so there was a real feeling of community. 

Today, we figured in those first couple of hours that 10% of people donated.  And we’re talking mostly loonies and toonies. 

I began talking to a woman who was standing still, which was unusual, and started to share my speel….

The four of us are riding coast to coast for kids living with cancer.

100% of the proceeds go toward the cause.

The money goes to 17 oncology centres in Canada.

She looked at me perplexed.

I said, we’re looking for change to help us meet our goal of 3 million dollars.

She looked at me, eyebrows raised, mouth turned down,

“You’re going to raise $3 million from small change????”

I replied, Yes, it’s one of the many events that we do.

With that, she walked off.

I bit my tongue from replying with a few choice words.

I took a step back and sat down.

I watched the video from last year, which I had not seen.

I listened to Marissa talk.  She was 15, battling cancer since she was 8.  She talked about how her life wasn’t normal like other kids her age; how she wanted to get a job and be employed; how she wasn’t going to give up hope.  My throat swelled.  This is why we’re doing this.  She reminded me of Jenny.  Beautiful, robbed of her life.  The chemo making her face puffy.  Jenny died when she was 15 too.  Marissa’s battle is over, as are the battles of many other kids that don’t make it.  And I’m struck with the irony of our culture.  We’re wandering around one of the more affluent malls, Yorkdale, no one has time, we’re an intrusion on people’s personal lives, and Marissa, and other children that are battling cancer are not real to someone who is coming out of Crate and Barrel.

We figured it out.  If each person that we met today gave us a loonie, we would have raised a minimum of $1,000.  We were nowhere near that.

Then I reflected on my interactions with people who are homeless.  My wrestle with it.  I’ve known for 2 decades that we can end world poverty at any time we wish.  If each person donated $1/day, it would be over.  But we can’t do it.  Oh, yes, we have lots of good reasons.  We don’t know where the money goes, the admin costs, I get all that.

The same reasons we found today.  Until you’re personally affected, it’s always someone else.  Until it’s not.  And then, It’s real to us.

Marissa’s life is over.  And that’s real for her parents, her family, friends, and community.  It’s real for this new SNKCR community I’ve entered.  I know that the lives of many other children will become more real to me as we ride through communities across Canada and meet them and hear their stories. 

Life and death

Reflecting on my place in life and death situations.

I’m often, chillingly, the first one at the scene of an accident, and this past weekend was no exception.  We were driving to go skiing, going north on the 400, and a truck in front of us starts swirlling, over, and over and over.  Coming close to us, my heart started going into my throat.  We swirved over to the side of the road, and the truck proceeded to roll, roll and roll, landing in the ditch, right next to the tree.

I sat aghast, we were ok, there I was again, watching an accident, first one at the scene.  I was yelling, shocked and scared to the bone of what we were going to find.  My first thoughts were a mangled body or death.

As we ran closer to the van, I started to call 911 and my friends went right to the van door.  As I was talking to the operator, a woman walks out, a slight scape on her ahead.  I am dumbfounded that she is ok.

My work calls me to be at life and death situations, people attempting suicide, contemplating their existence, and not seeing the point.  Leaving this earth seems the only way out.

I sit with a heavy heart with that.

I think about these kids that we’re raising money for.  Kids struck by an illness they have no control over, robbing them of their childhood, and their family of the dreams they had in store.  I think about the kids who are waiting for the money we are raising.  My throat swells.

I think about my healthy body.  The ability, time and resources to do this ride.

Life and death.  What wakes us up to living?

Abundance

www.snkcr.com/catherinebancroft

Like any challenge I’ve undertaken, there are stages.  Excitement, shock, denial, planning, preparation, adjustment, the whole kit and kabudle.

With the goal of raising $30K, I’m 12% of the way there and have raised $3,650.  With every donation, I feel so lucky to have such strong supporters.  People who believe in the cause, have been affected by it, and want to support my personal commitment. People keep coming out of the workwork and their generosity is overwhelming!  I’m aware that as I get behind this cause and the ride, there are so many people getting behind me to assist me with different aspects of the journey.  I feel deep appreciation.

Since I’m 12% of the way there, I also know that means I have 88% of the way to go, and that about feels like where I am with fundraising and training.  Right now, with the end goal clear in my view, that feels like a long way!

I’m spending every minute possible reaching out to people that can potentially support.  Creating a strategy to be more efficient.  I’m excited to go back to my high school, Banting Secondary School in London, and experience an Inside Ride with their student body.  I talked with the organizing students and they are excited.  I’m reminded of when I was on Student Council and it feels like yesterday.  I picture myself at the opening assembly, sharing why I am doing this ride, and know I’ll be flooded with memories of being up on stage 22 years ago.  How is that possible?  Where did those 22 years go? I know that going back in time will mean that I’ll also be carrying not only Jenny’s memory, but also Jana’s.  This will be yet another large milestone in my life that I won’t be able to share with her.

I’m excited about the Inside Rides we can do in schools.  I’m reaching out to set these up, and when I was in Bishop Allen Academy in Toronto yesterday for a work event, I was impressed with their energy and conviction!  Not to mention that they raised $19,000!!  That was motivation for me!

Creating a team for the 24 spin event.  www.24hourspin.com.  200 stationary bikes at the Exhibition Center with the bike show on that weekend, March 6/7th.  We’ve got the basis of an excellent team going, and I’m digging the each person raises $250 each and gets 1 hour of spinning time.  I’m still looking for team members, so would love you or anyone you know to join us.  Get in touch!

Really liking the approach of inspiring people in my life to be ambassadors for going to their connections to raise money.  Love my new business cards and can hand those out.

Keen to invite additional people that want to find different ways to support, to make connections within your own communities to bring awareness to childhood cancer, and to motivate people to donate to assist us to reach our goal of raising $3 Million.

You can reach me at: cathbancroft@gmail.com

If you have particular connections in schools, corporations, media, or people in your life that would like to donate, I’d appreciate your support.

Thank you for participating in this awesome journey!

www.snkcr.com/catherinebancroft

Community

www.snkcr.com/catherinebancroft

The 50 riders start to have calls once a month where we’re all together on the line learning about different aspects of the ride.  Fundraising, Training, Nutrition, Routes.  I hear the space in between the presentations, 50 people from different parts of the country, all with very personal reasons for doing this ride.  I feel overwhelmed with the feeling of priviledge for the opportunity to meet a highly motivated group of people who have chosen the same sacrifices that I have in order to do this ride.  I’m struck by the importance for me that the ride is National, bringing together riders from all the provinces.  As we talk about the numerous community events across the country, I know this will be a highlight for me; being able to hear, see, feel and sense the direct impact of the countless hours of preparation we have all done for this ride.  I picture kids and families with cancer sharing their stories and I know that this will bring it home for me.  My emotions start to stir up, and I keep this feeling with me in moments when I’m in fear, I’m exhausted, I’m worried.

I’m excited to find out who is on my team.  Since we’re in teams of 14-17 people and each team rides together for 16 days, these will be the people that I will share joys, challenges, and the journey with.  These are the people that I will draft with, support and be supported by.  Each of us having spent the year preparing and knowing the commitment that it takes to get to the ride.  One of last year’s riders reminded me that the work is not the ride, it’s the year leading up to the ride.

A National Community.  Traversing together across the nation, our nation.  I’ve had the priviledge to travel in many places in the world, and I have traversed many different terrains.  As I think about trekking in Nepal in 2001 through the Annapurna Circuit and the awe I felt, I am now reminded of the significance for me of travelling through my whole country with the wind on my face.  The terrain has come home, and so have I.

www.snkcr.com/catherinebancroft

Focus, alignment

www.snkcr.com/catherinebancroft

In November, soon after I was accepted, the reality of what I had stepped into hit me, at 3am.

180 km’s per day.  For 16 days.  I was comfortable and used to doing 100 km’s a day, but I knew that almost double the distance and three times the amount of time, would require an whole new level of fitness.

Not to mention the $25,000 that we each need to raise.  This challenge appealed to me.  I had some experience over the last four years, fundraising for charitable causes, but again, $25K was pushing it to a whole new level. 

At 3am, every night for 3 weeks, I woke up with a segment of Canada in my mind.  One night, the rockies, the next night, the prairies, the next my home town London, and on and on it went.  I was aware of what I represented, a national ambassador for kids living with cancer and their families.  My fears crept in at 3am: how am I going to get to $25K, what level of training is going to be required, because of my history with hypoglycemia and bonking, would streak be an option every 2 hours?, how was I going to fit this into my already full life?

Within the next 6 weeks I started Strength Training with Jason Edgehill, a personal trainer who is also a cyclist at Good Life.  I realized 25 sessions into my commitment of 80 sessions that Jason is the perfect fit for me.  He focuses on my weaknesses, helps me to see them, and then we work on them.  He watches me intently in the first weeks, after each rep I struggle to bring the room into view because of dizziness.  He pokes and prods me, stretches me, and helps me to focus on the muscles we’re building.  He gives me advice that I turn into metaphors: Keep your center, concentrate.  I practice what I’m learning in my daily life.

I realize the saying How you do anything is How you do everything comes clearer into my view.

It becomes all about my body.  Up at 5:15am, eat, workout, eat, work, eat, did I mention eat.  Even at that, after my nutritional assessment, I find out that I’m not getting enough calories.  I crave steak.  I realize the cost that it’s going to require to feed my body what it needs.

I look at our training manual and almost hurl.  How am I going to find the time to fit this in?  I need to measure my wattage and find out about Absolute Endurance.  I have walked past it everyday, and there it is, right at my finger tips.  I sign up for group classes, get my lactate tested, and sit my butt down on my new cervelo.  I feel like it’s official, and I’m intimidated.  I look up at the screen that I’m hooked up to, and it tells me my wattage, km’s per hour, where I am in line with the other riders.  I’m last every time.  Hmmmm….

As I get into my training schedule, I oscillate between feeling stronger with more energy, and feeling exhausted, and not having time to even pee!

I focus on embracing this ride as my teacher.  A year to bring my body into alignment, to focus on where I’m putting my energy, to building my community, and to making a difference for kids and their families across the country.

www.snkcr.com/catherinebancroft

Loggin in Loggin on

My name is Catherine, my home town London Ontario, living in Toronto.  I have been cycling for 4 years with charitable events.  I have gone from Toronto to Montreal the past 4 years with The Toronto People with AIDS Foundation, and fell in love with cycling through participating in this vibrant, dynamic community.

I began dreaming about cycling in other parts of the world.  First, I wanted to see my own country.  I was inspired by a fellow cyclist, Robert Windrum who was part of the Sears National Coast to Coast tour last year.  I wanted to go with him!  When the team last year was moving across the country, I found myself checking Robert’s updates with keen anticipation and wishing I was there. 

When Robert came back, we got together so that I could learn more about the Sears National Ride.  I found my burning desire to see my own country with my own eyes intensified as he told his stories of the different terrain and weather they experienced across the country.

My decision culminated into action as he talked about drafting with his team of ~15 people across the country.  I was sold, despite my fears.  Whenever I had the opportunity to draft in the past, and when it worked, it was one of the most amazing feelings I had experienced.  A feeling of synergy in working with a bunch of people, all being in alignment, supporting each other, a feeling that I sought out in my daily life.

I was particularly impressed with the Coast to Coast against Cancer Foundation because they asked us to pay $4,000 to cover their costs to get us across the country (and I knew from doing my other rides that this was no small feat - food, gas, trucks, RV’s, permits, community events, not to mention all the volunteers) and 100% of the proceeds went directly toward the cause.  That means that 17 oncology centers across the country would be the recipients of the money that I collected, and I felt that I could get 100% behind that.

As I thought about the cause, I thought about the many people who had been affected by cancer - when I was 17 I went to Winnipeg to be with my Nanna and watched the last week of my Poppa’s life.  My other grandpa “Tut”, recently my mom’s good friend Tish and my prayer mother growing up, other family and close friends.  Then I thought about my dear soul sister Michelle, brain cancer her beast.  I got this horrible news on Aug. 16, 2006 and she and I travelled together to Brazil in April of 2009, and I experienced something unlike anything else I have experienced during our spiritual pilgrimmage together.

As I contemplated applying for the Sears National Ride, my heart strings pulled on the devastating loss I, and my whole family felt when my cousin Jenny died of leukemia when I was 12 and she 15.  As I thought about this, I could envision myself being able to do something positive to honour her memory for myself and on behalf of our whole family.  This became my inspiration.

So I applied, and was accepted as one of the 50 National Riders who will be cycling Coast to Coast Sept. 9-23rd 2010.

www.snkcr.com/catherinebancroft