The Hazards of Oversharing – A Cautionary Tale

Setting personal goals is all very well, but be careful who you share them with. Once you share them, people will start expecting you to follow through. This can be a serious drag.

Last year I apparently forgot who I was for a day or two (pro-am bather, unapologetic sitter-outer, lover of the nap) and decided that I wanted to do the Grouse Grind at some point in the future. Emphasis on future, that mythical day which never arrives. I compounded this error by sharing this “goal” with others.

My friend has recently become a totally different person – he has gone from being a lovely sedentary soul who could always be relied upon to not suggest anything overly strenuous, to being this highly active person who does things like jogging. Jogging - I even dislike the word. He now calls me up and describes the things he has already accomplished with his day while I am still in my bathrobe eating toast. After years of knowing him, the phrase I most often find myself saying to him lately is, “Who are you and what have you done with Kevin?” I realized that the exercise and increased oxygen uptake had also clearly improved his famously bad memory when he suddenly remembered my words about the Grouse Grind from last year. Shit.

I could have gotten out of it by going on and on about what the Grouse Grind represents from an anthropological perspective as pertains to Vancouver – this exercise obsessed, it’s ok to wear yoga pants to fine dining establishments city; a city where it is easier to buy rain gear for your maltepoo, moodle, malti-doodle whatever - than it is to find a decent bookstore. I could have done that, but it would have been bullshit. All I knew about it was what I had heard, and I had heard that it was scary hard – like vertical. I also knew that friends who are in incredible shape boasted about doing it in what sounded to me like a terrifyingly long 45 minutes. This did not bode well for me.

Kevin has also become annoyingly persistent as his ability to do reps has increased, but I did manage to dodge it for a few weeks – excuses like “Oh, It’s too hot” and “I don’t want to do it after work” and “No, no you go on. I don’t want to slow you guys down.” He called me on a cool Sunday and said everyone else had bailed and did I want to go with him – he called my bluff basically.

I had a tiny personal crisis in that moment. I didn’t want to do it, but I also didn’t want to not do it. I have other things on my list of personal goals that are hard and scary, and I didn’t want to not do this thing as it seemed to imply that I might never follow through on those others, and some of them actually matter to me.

I have not exercised in so long I could not find my sports bra, I had to go to London Drugs to buy the right socks but I did get ready and we did drive and we did arrive.

The Grouse Grind is basically a woodland stairmaster. The trail is very steep, no two steps are the same height or depth, there are rocks and dust and pine needles, I had a really great view of all of these things because I did not lift my head the entire time. Sometimes the rocks and dust are slippery because there is so much sweat on them from the million people going up at the same time as you. If you are like me all of these million people will also pass you. You will become aware of this. If you are like me you will make a list of the people who pass you and your list will look something like this:

- the diabetic doing it for the first time
- the girl in flip-flops
- the girl in ballet slippers with rainbows and cherries on them
- the Sikh family in jeans
- the 50 year old man carrying a 6 year old on his back
- the 8 year old with a snoopy purse
- the guy carrying a ghetto blaster the size of a portable generator

Kevin was wonderful and patient and encouraging and I managed not to hate him as he bounded on ahead of me. Alone with the million people I set little goals for myself: I will not panic when my heartbeat renders me deaf for minutes at a time, I will not mind that I have pine pitch all up my back from leaning against trees to rest, I will not whine or throw up, I will not sit down once during this whole hellish experience and I will beat that guy with the pink water bottle. I finished that fucker in 1 hour and 44 minutes, I beat the guy with the pink water bottle and when I regained the ability to feel anything other than pain I was really quite proud of myself. After 20 years of living in this strange city I was at the top of Grouse Mountain for the first time and I got there on my own two aching, wobbly legs. For me, this was kind of a big deal.

I am a person who has said out loud “The only way I’m running on the seawall is if someone is chasing me with a knife.” I am also a person who has decided to do the Grouse Grind again. Who am I?