Reminders — Covid-19... it's been nearly five years

It just occurred to me that it has been almost five years since the SARS-CoV-2 virus introduced itself to the world — the new pathogen was identified in December 2019. I don’t think it’s necessary to spend much time reviewing what happened after that because everyone was invited to the party. We had not seen anything like it since the Spanish Flu of 1919-1920, many people died because of it (over 7 million people worldwide according to the WHO), and the effects of Covid-19 left its mark. Four years later, I am sure everyone has thoughts on it still.

Other than perspectives on my journey, all I will say is Mother Nature gave us a break by giving us the Omicron variant which made it a much easier landing. And cryptically speaking, the Great Mother has been doing what she does for billions of years, and homo sapiens been doing what we do for 150,000 years (give or take) — we should be much more humble with regards to what we believe we actually accomplished.

Because of my background, I took an interest in the situation very early and started to identify sources of information that offered a scientific perspective and government policy to help navigate the unknown. In the beginning we knew there was an unknown virus and it was deadly and then the official lock downs started in March of 2020. A very unfamiliar reality set in.

• We all formed bubbles of existence to do our part to reduce the spread of the virus — my father was 90 years old at the time, lived on his own and was very much at risk. My bubble of existence became very small.

• Saturday night Zoom calls with close friends over wine, bourbon, or cocktail of choice, were life reaffirming. We shared information, thoughts, and tried to navigate the situation together.

• When the warmer weather came and with everything closed, I walked, and then I ran the stairs at the Wallace Street Bridge. It was freeing.

• Dr John Campbell was my go-to source for Covid-19 news. He always cited his information and drew his line in the sand with science.

Eventually there were whispers of a vaccine and one day I received a notice I was eligible for the new Oxford AstraZeneca Covid Vaccine in my neighbourhood as part of a pilot project — I signed up right away and two shots later I was feeling good. Lock down rules were easing (although in fits and starts) and drinks on a patio became a real thing. There was an air of normalcy, and we were heading in the right direction.

• Shortly after my Covid 19 shots, the AstraZeneca vaccine was discontinued in Canada because of blood clotting concerns.

• The wild type of SARS-CoV-2 had been mutating and luckily the Omicron variant came along. The data was showing it was less virulent — just as infectious as the Delta variant but far less deadly

• Government policy seemed erratic, and you couldn’t help wonder what was driving the policy. Weren’t they looking at the data?

• There was one brief window where the local shops were open before Christmas, and I did all my shopping in the neighbourhood. Shortly after Christmas, I received a card from one of the owners — she told me how much she appreciated my business, and it helped her make it through the year.

• When the reminders about getting a booster started to show up on my phone, I elected to be boosted by Omicron (or one of the other variants). There was data that showed having vaccines boosted by the natural virus gave a better immunity (which made sense to me). It wasn’t lost on me that I couldn’t have a booster from a vaccine that potentially caused blood clots, but I could have a booster from a vaccine that potentially caused myocarditis.

• I had been running lots of stairs and felt great — and I was back to the gym and stronger than ever.

It was just over two years and collectively we were all trying to get back to what we remember. For my part, I had registered for an April bike race, and on the day of the race, there was this overwhelming feeling to not be outside, not be around people, and get back to where I would be safe. It was not until I started to ride did the feeling evaporate.

Since then, we are back into routines free of constant Covid messaging and lock downs. Now we are mostly dealing with the economic fallout and the mental health ramifications of being scared shitless for more than two years. Regarding the latter, I wonder if the term Mental Health refers to true mental health issues, or does it also reflect poor resilience and coping skills, or worse still, just simply bad behaviour.

As I look at the legacy of Covid-19, there are two things that have stayed with me.

• Health is very important and makes you more resilient — the healthier you were through Covid-19, the greater chance of surviving (most deaths were associated with underlying health conditions). This is not to minimize all the very healthy people who died before their time. As we know, Covid-19 was deadly.

• I don’t trust so easily anymore — I am not cynical at all, but I do not take anything at face value anymore, will want to see proof and a willingness to answer questions. And if it’s on social media, I just assume it’s “made up”.

So here we are, November 2024, and I’m sporting what is turning out to be a not so bad looking moustache and soul patch because it’s Movember after all and all about men’s health. Recognizing men’s health is important because sometimes we aren’t really that bright — it’s something I learned over the past five years.

iamgpe

Reminders — The Sands of Time

I received a text message the other day with an image attached — it showed the black silhouettes of an elderly man with a cane holding the hand of a child. In the middle of each silhouette was an hourglass; the man’s sands filled the bottom bowl whereas the child’s top bowl was full. Sands flowed through the narrow necks but from two very different perspectives.

There was a crudeness, simplicity, and intimacy to the monotone picture — the image was beautiful and its literal message very clear.

My quick reply, “I really like this. I find it comforting”.

We are figurative hour glasses and our lives, our experiences, and our body of work are represented by the sand as it moves from the top bowl to the bottom. As the final grains fall, our time here comes to an end.

I quickly added, “We still have lots of sand left”.

After this short exchange, I was struck that I used the word “comforting”. I then proceeded to spend what was probably more time than I should’ve to understand why I decided to use this particular word for what was obviously a message about mortality. With other things to do, and only so much time, I’ve come up with two reasons why I used the word.

The first reason is something very tribal — I’m part of a larger shared experience, and although sands may fall at different rates or hour glasses may be different sizes, we are all the same in terms of being born, living our lives, and ultimately dying. The second reason is the intimacy of connection between the older man and the boy as they hold hands; I envisioned a grandfather out for a walk with his grandson sharing stories and experiences to help the boy in life.

This is a reminder that what we do has value and there is an importance in sharing our experiences to help others on their journey (I believe many would also call this servant leadership) — our experiences matter, they add to the larger human experience and if shared, help those who follow in our footsteps. In a sense, our limited time offers the opportunity to become timeless.

Although I still have sand left, sadly it’s not as much as it used to be. I take comfort in knowing I’m part of something much bigger than myself and will continue to make my way with the sand I have left.

iamgpe

I know I will die. I am not afraid to die. I will work very hard not to die before my time, and I will enjoy the experience until I do.

Observations — momentum

As a training ride goes, I was on my game— the saddle felt good; legs were getting stronger as I went; my wind was good, and I was enjoying a beautiful day. This momentum would carry the day until I had to come to a hard stop because of cars on a country road. It was all gone and I stood there watching them go by.

There was an audible grunt of exasperation as I got the pedals going again — I was nothing more than potential energy* at that point.

Figuratively speaking, I did get my momentum back and the training ride went as planned, but I couldn’t shake the figurative concept of momentum and worked it into my training out there on the trail. I would like to point out that a buddy of mine looks at training much differently; he’s all about data collection for optimal performance, focus, and the determination to ride the fastest time possible — he’s an engineer by trade so it comes honestly. I ride for the adventure, which for him, is a seat of the pants approach to training for a race. It will make him bat-shit crazy to learn half of my training focus was on figurative concepts of momentum.

Our momentum, figuratively speaking, is always being challenged — life trying to slow you down. We work through it and continue, much like my cycling example.

But sometimes, things happen that take you to a knee, or worse still, take you to the floor. The little events can add up but mostly this falls into the big event category: a death; the loss of the love of your life; a demotion that that strips you of your identity; an addiction that spirals out of control — there is a long list of horrors that can take you to the floor and destroy any and all momentum (figuratively speaking).

You are now on the floor, all momentum is gone, and it is all seemingly unfair — although the choices are easy: stay on the floor with all the rationalization at you command to justify staying where you are or get up and build your momentum again. I don’t think I mentioned building momentum is fucking hard, energy intense, needs willful intent, as well as time. Like anything worth achieving it is hard work.

You need to get up. Staying on the floor is no legacy, no matter how you try to rationalize the situation, it offers nothing but regrets, bitterness, and missing out on the potential of a lifetime.

How do you get up? Start at the beginning and build it back up. I will take the cheap way out and say you will know how that’s done when you have done it, and in fairness every situation will be different. But what I do know, is you have to fucking get up; you have to be willful, push through the pain, claw yourself to a knee, find a way to stand and put one foot in from of the other, and move. All figuratively speaking of course.

Can’t wait to continue my training — I can feel the momentum building.

iamgpe

* Potential energy is the stored energy in an object due to its position, properties, and forces acting on it.