A Rainbow Run

A week ago, my spirit soared to the mountaintops.

When I was a teenager, I discovered that I really enjoyed running. I ran cross country and track, and over the years, it has been the form of exercise that I always return to, even if I’ve taken a sabbatical every once in a while. I have come to understand that it is simply a therapy that helps me keep my life in order, by giving me a discipline and an enforced quiet solitude for processing my thoughts of the day.

I’ve never been concerned about being particularly fast or competitive, but I’ve always been intrigued by the distance of the marathon, the 26.2 mile holy grail of the running community. Since my children arrived, I have run two half-marathons, and achieved my only goal- to feel strong and well-trained. But I wasn’t completely convinced my life or my body had a marathon in it.

When our baby Lachlan headed off to full-day kindergarten this year (sniff- sniff!), I knew that it was now or never to give it a try. If I couldn’t figure out how to train with all three kids in school fulltime, and no work outside the home yet, I knew it would never happen.

While I would have loved to run the Sydney Marathon because of our affection for our adopted home, the only marathon that fit around our travel schedule this year was Canberra. Canberra is the capital of Australia (I know there are more than a few of you out there living outside of Australia, like a friend who will remain nameless, who believe that the capital is Melbourne or Sydney...) and like Washington DC was a planned city. Upon federation of the Australian colonies, Canberra was chosen as the site for the new capital. It was planned to be a city with large bands of green space, wide boulevards lined with large buildings, formal parks and water features, including the central feature of a large lake.

Canberra was completely panned by Bill Bryson in his travel book In A Sunburned Country, so we purposely avoided it during our first trip here, even though it is only 3 1/2 hours southwest of Sydney. What a shame! We have now discovered that it is a beautiful city full of amazing museums (Questacon puts any science museum I’ve ever visited to shame, and the Australian War Memorial Museum is the most powerful commemoration to the sacrifice of war we’ve ever experienced), great restaurants and miles and miles of family-friendly bike paths.

Last April, we made a family trip to Canberra during the April school holidays. But it was an angst-filled trip, as my mother was in the last days of her life. While Rick kept the kids occupied at the sights, I spent hours on the phone with my Dad and sister, agonizing over the decision not to return home until after she died, looking into travel arrangements and saying my final farewell to her. It was an excruciating time. As I trained, it occurred to me that the return to Canberra, at the exact same time of year, could be very therapeutic.

The girls biking in Canberra last year.

The race started at 7am on a Sunday morning. I must admit that in the days leading up to the race, my nerves were frazzled in anticipation, but by Saturday, I was starting to calm down, ready to just enjoy some time with my family. Saturday afternoon we drove down, checked out the route (yay- flat, flat, flat!), and had a carb-filled meal at our favourite Italian restaurant.

On Sunday morning, I rose before the crack of dawn with butterflies in my stomach and got myself moving- by daybreak, the predicted rain clouds were starting to roll in. As I looked out the window before I headed out for my walk from our hotel to the starting line, a rainbow appeared in the sky. My lingering doubts immediately disappeared, and were replaced with a sense of joy and peace, as I knew that my mother was smiling her love, enthusiasm and encouragement on me. A year earlier, minutes before Dad and Katherine phoned me to tell me of Mom’s death, I had experienced an inexplicable urge to sing “Somewhere Over the Rainbow” to comfort a grieving Claire, and then a rainbow appeared in the sky around the time of their call.

As I walked to the start, the image of the full rainbow embraced me, and was a strong encouraging presence throughout the race, urging me on. For the first 6 mile loop, we circled up around Parliament House. We then ran over a bridge across the lake and headed west, looped back and over another bridge, past my very vocal and soggy cheering section (Rick is famous around these parts for his enthusiastic and booming cheering at the girls’ soccer games!), before heading out for another loop. Unbelievably, I felt strong the entire way, never hitting a wall or feeling too exhausted to move on. I crossed the finish line in 4 hours and 10 minutes, the very best time I could have hoped for, feeling incredibly sore but strong and absolutely ecstatic.

We were all relieved to find that I still had enough energy to spend the afternoon at the National Museum of Australia before we drove back to Sydney. It happened to be the one day for a free Irish festival highlighting the museum’s “Irish in Australia” exhibit, complete with live music and dancing and free entry to the exhibit. The mood was incredibly celebratory and a perfect top-off for the day.

And wouldn't you know, starting this Sunday, I'll be accompanying my Dad on a trip to Ireland, a place that he and Mom had always wanted to see. We'll keep an eye out for rainbows....

One Heck of a Determined Lady

Yesterday, we celebrated the life of my mother, Priscilla, who died on April 15, 2010 after an amazing 23-year battle with breast cancer. Over the past year, I often thought about writing a blog entry about Mom. But what to share? Her zest for life? Her defiance of the odds? How we met the challenges of living halfway around the world from her? The profound impact that she had on our lives? How much we miss her? How truly blessed and grateful I feel that I had an encouraging, enthusiastic, spirited mother? Perhaps because there was so MUCH to say, I chose to write nothing at all.

But yesterday, I realized that, for the purposes of this blog, where I highlight our experiences in Australia, what I needed to do was to celebrate Mom's determined, adventuresome spirit. She was always eagerly embracing new experiences, even if they weren't originally in her life plan. She had never really thought about coming to Australia (although she did have a lifelong dream of snorkeling on the Great Barrier Reef, which she got to do on her first visit here to see us in 2004), but when we moved here, she turned much of her traveling energies to experiencing life in Australia.

And so, to celebrate Mom's spirit, I've decided to share some images from her time in Australia. It astonishes and inspires me to recall that she was undergoing active treatment for breast cancer that had spread to her bones and liver during all this time:

Mom and Dad arrive at the Sydney Airport in 2007 after our move. Ah, the victory of surviving the 21-hour flight!

The joy of reunion.

Making an Easter Garden with Oma during our first Easter in Australia.

Mom and Dad's 3rd trip to Sydney in 2008- exploring the museums of Australia's capital, Canberra.

2009- On the Harbour with Mom's sister Martha and her daughter Becca. Mom made sure to see at least one show at the Opera House (which showcases much more than opera) every time she visited.

En route on a 3-day roadtrip down to Victoria in 2009- Pebbly Beach on the coast south of Sydney, where the kangaroos come right up to the beach.

At my mother's cousin's home in Ocean Grange in the Gippsland Lakes Region of Victoria.

Mom and Dad on Ninety-Mile Beach in Victoria

January 2010- Floating in our backyard pool during her last visit with us. She received a blood transfusion so that she could be away from her US treatment for 3 weeks. During this visit, she started suffering the pain that signified that her cancer had finally become too aggressive to manage. But she was determined to make her way to the pool, and enjoyed the freedom of floating with the kids.

Prior to Mom and Dad's 2010 arrival, we had planned a trip to Tasmania (the island state south of the Australian mainland) for all of us. Despite the pain, she insisted we go forward with the trip- ironically, the most ambitious of all her travels here.

The Freycinet Peninsula in eastern Tasmania. Thanks to wheelchair-friendly paths, we were able to enjoy this view together. The kids had a great time taking turns pushing Oma's wheelchair.

Browsing the Salamenca Market in Hobart. Much of the Tasmania trip was spent seeking medical help for Mom's pain and fatigue, but after receiving some positive medical news on this particular morning, she rallied and we had a lovely time wandering.

Mom's last "Australian" experience was a visit to the Chinese Garden in Sydney, an oasis in the middle of a bustling city. I had known Mom would love it because of the joy she found in gardening. We relished the peaceful tranquility after the strains and stressors of the last three weeks. But sadly, the tearoom closed its doors just as our family arrived for afternoon tea. I was thoroughly disappointed that my mother, who loved her tea, missed out.

Over the past year, as I thought about what we might do to mark the anniversary of her death, it dawned on me that we needed to return to the Garden, to wander its peaceful paths and soak in its beauty, remembering the joy it had brought to all of us. To celebrate Mom and her determination, and complete her Australian adventures, we would enjoy a lovely tea in the tearoom.

And so we did.

Peace, Anne