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Ice Buckets For Autism

The Reason I Run

The Reason I Run

Yesterday, I spoke about the aspects of the ALS Ice Bucket Challenge that bother me. At the same time, I acknowledged that this campaign has been wildly successful in raising funds and awareness for ALS. Although I have been nominated, I have declined to participate – not only because of the reasons stated yesterday, but because there is another cause that is nearer and dearer to my heart. I am not in any way diminishing the ALS cause, I am just saying that with my limited funds and more limited energy, I have to focus my efforts on a cause that directly impacts my family.

Every year, I participate in the Charity Challenge of the Scotiabank Toronto Waterfront half-marathon to raise funds for autism services, and this year is no different. The money I raise goes to the Geneva Centre for Autism, a wonderful organization that has provided endless support not only to my autism boy, but also to his younger brother, my husband and myself. I can say without reservation that my son’s life – all of our lives – would be very different if it weren’t for the Geneva Centre.

The thing is, though, that fundraising is hard, and it gets more difficult every year. People struggle. They have difficulty paying their bills on time and providing for their families. Life in this day and age is not easy. And the people who do have funds to donate are increasingly selective about where that money goes, and rightfully so. There have been so many stories about donated funds lining the pockets of people who are already rich.

I can give my personal assurance that money donated to the Geneva Centre for Autism does not go towards ridiculously high salaries or swanky events. It is used for things like art supplies and musical instruments for kids with autism, job skills training for those leaving school, iPads for those in need of communication assistance, and summer camps for children and youth who need help with social skills development. This is money that is used to help real children and their families. It is money that genuinely makes a difference and can change the course of a young person’s life for the better.

This year, for those who do have a few dollars to donate, I am adding an element of fun to my fundraising efforts. It is a variation of the ALS campaign, and I am calling it “Ice Buckets For Autism”. The premise is simple: for every $100 that I can raise for autism, I will dump a bucket of ice water on my head. In keeping with my concerns about using water wisely, I will dump it in such a way that it can later be used for something else.

There are no nominations and there is no stipulation as to how much each person should donate. People can simply donate if and how much they choose, and every time the hundreds digit of my fundraising total changes, I will drench myself and provide photographic and video evidence of the act.

I am hoping to be drenched many, many times.

This is an original post by Kirsten Doyle. Photo credit to the author.

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Running For Autism 2013

There are few things more surreal than waking up on the morning of your biggest race of the season – the event that you have spent all year preparing your body and mind for. You know that this is it. This is what everything you have done this season has been leading up to – every race, every long run in the pouring rain or blistering sun, every gruelling session of slogging repeatedly up the same hill.

As I got ready for the Scotiabank Toronto Waterfront Half-Marathon on Sunday morning, I alternated between eerie calmness and frenetic nervousness. On the one hand, I felt ready. I had trained hard, and there was no question that my body would be able to handle the half-marathon – a distance that I had already run seven times in the last four years. On the other hand, I had just been through several months of the most mind-bending stress. My body was ready, but was my mind strong enough?

And would I be able to run 21.1km wearing a cape and a funny hat?

For the first time ever, I had decided to run a race in costume. This involved an autism-oriented logo…

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… a hat spouting weird hair…

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… and a cape.

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The day before the race, I wavered on the whole costume idea. I was going to feel very self-conscious at the start, walking around among thousands of people with blue hair spouting from my hat. But then I remembered what I had written on the message wall at the runner’s expo – the reason I was doing all of this.

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As it turned out, I didn’t feel self-conscious at all. In the start area I saw several people wearing costumes. Besides, I was hanging out with Charlie, who like me was running for the the Geneva Centre for Autism. I was having too much fun to feel self-conscious.

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When Charlie and I made our way to the start line, we found ourselves further back in the pack than we had intended, and we felt as if we waited forever before we finally started to shuffle forward. I wished Charlie luck, stepped across the timing mats, and the race was on.

Right from the start, I felt marvelous. The costume didn’t bother me in the slightest, and I didn’t have any of the awkward stiffness that I sometimes feel during the first couple of kilometres. For a change I didn’t start out too fast. I ran the first 7K at a nice easy pace – fast enough to keep up a respectable average speed, but not so fast that I would run out of steam before hitting the halfway mark. About a third of the way into the race I kicked it up a notch, and by the time I ran over the 10K timing mats I was cruising along very comfortably.

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Three kilometres later, I reached the turnaround point, and I was feeling great. I was starting to tire and I still had eight kilometres to go, but I was now physically heading towards the finish line. I contemplated increasing my speed, but decided not to. I tend to struggle in the 18th and 19th kilometres of a half-marathon, and I wanted to make sure I would have the energy to get through that patch.

As I was running up the only real hill on the course, my fuel belt came off, and I had to stop to pick it up and secure it around my waist again. I was worried: my pacing had been so perfect, and this was just the kind of thing that could break the rhythm. But fortunately, I was able to get right back into it without losing more than a few seconds. I made up the time by sprinting for sixty or seventy metres, and then settled back into my regular pace.

As soon as I started the 18th kilometre, I hit my customary struggle. My legs started to feel like jelly and my brain started to tell me that I couldn’t do this anymore. Telling myself that this was only in my head, I ran on. I allowed myself to slow down a little, but I kept going. I got through that kilometre and the next one by counting in my head – a neat little trick I figured out that distracts my mind from what I’m actually doing.

All of a sudden, I saw what I had been waiting for – the marker indicating that I was now in the 20th kilometre. Just like that, my mind cleared and my jelly-like legs started to feel strong. I had just over two kilometres to go – less than 13 minutes of running. I could do this. I told my legs to go faster and they willingly obeyed. With one kilometre to go, I slowed down briefly to remove my ear buds. I didn’t need music now. There were crowds of spectators lining both sides of the road – they would carry me to the finish.

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500 metres to go. About ninety seconds from now the finish line would be in my sights. Spectators were cheering for me by name and I was smiling and waving cheerfully, loving every moment. With 300 metres to go, I put every ounce of remaining energy into my legs and a mental picture of George, my son and inspiration, into my head.

I crossed the finish line with a time of 2:16:42 – a new personal best time. My legs were hurting, but my spirits were absolutely flying.

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When I got home, I gave my finisher’s medal to the person I was doing all of this for. The smile on his face mirrored the feelings in my soul.

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This year’s race is done, and I am already looking forward to next year’s event.

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8 Ways $1000 Can Help Kids With Autism

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This year, I will be running for autism for the fifth time as I take part in the Scotiabank Toronto Waterfront Half-Marathon. Although the race is advertised as “flat, fast and festive”, it is quite hard, and not only because it’s kind of far. It’s because there are long straight stretches with no left or right turns. In the last 5km or so, I keep imagining that the final turn to the finish line is right there, like a mirage in the desert.

This year, I expect the race to be even harder, because it will come just a month after I do the Ottawa Army Run, which is also a half-marathon.

The Scotiabank run is an important one, though, and I will never exclude it from my race calendar no matter what else I have going on. This race is my opportunity to give something to the autism community, to make the world a better and brighter place for my son and other people like him.

I am running for the Geneva Centre for Autism, and like last year, I have set myself a fundraising goal of $1000. If I achieve that goal, the Geneva Centre will be able to choose from some really cool uses of the money. Like these:

1. Art supplies for 40 individuals with autism. We could collectively unleash the talent of the next Stephen Wiltshire.

2. Sports equipment for 20 individuals with autism. Sporting activity has so many benefits for people with autism, apart from the obvious ones that apply to all of us. Athletics can help develop fine and gross motor skills, it can nurture problem-solving skills, and it give kids the “deep pressure” sensations that they often crave.

3. Instruments for 15 musicians with autism. I have had the pleasure of listening to the music of Michael Moon. Music enriches his own soul and those of his audiences. If he hadn’t had access to a guitar when he was younger, that potential within him might never have been unlocked.

4. Job training for 15 young adults. The biggest worry in the minds of most autism parents is whether their kids will be OK as adults. Will they have the life skills they need to live independently and have jobs? The job training programs provided by the Geneva Centre can make a real difference to the lives of young adults.

5. Field trips for 10 individuals with autism. For most kids, field trips are an opportunity to go somewhere fun and miss a few hours of school. For kids with autism, field trips are an opportunity to learn life skills in real-world settings, and to generalize existing skills to places other than the classroom.

6. Summer camp for 4 individuals with autism. People with autism are often unable to participate in activities that are designed for the neurotypical world. There is, however, an opportunity for them to attend camps for special needs people, or to attend the regular camps with extra support.

7. 2 iPads loaded with autism-friendly apps. It has been shown time and time again that kids with autism can benefit greatly from using iPads. They can learn life skills, social skills, academics like reading and math that can be hard to master in a classroom setting. There have been reports of kids with autism who have gone from non-verbal to fully conversational with the help of iPad apps.

8. One piece of state-of-the-art sensory equipment. A lot of kids with autism are sensory-seekers. They like deep pressure, textures, movement, sounds and patterns. One piece of equipment that meets sensory needs can go a long way in centres that accommodate groups of children.

Every cent that I can raise will make a lasting difference to the life of someone with autism. Whether we help kids discover a talent or a passion, prepare them for life, or simply make it easier for them to tolerate their environment, we have the power to change the world.

It takes a village to raise a child. It takes a village of extraordinary people to raise a child with autism. If you are able to, please be a part of my village.

To sponsor my 2013 Run for Autism, please visit my fundraising page.

(Photo credit: Kirsten Doyle. This is an original post by Kirsten Doyle.)

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2012 Run For Autism: Starting The Journey

Many of you already know the story.

You already know how I was a runner way back when, and then stopped and completely neglected my physical health after the birth of my kids. You know how I always wanted to get back into running, but never found the discipline. You know how I became completely comfortable as a couch potato but never quite got rid of that residue of regret.

You also know how an email landed in my inbox one day that completely changed everything. The email was an invitation for me to join the team being put together by the Geneva Centre for Autism for the forthcoming Scotiabank Toronto Waterfront races. Participants could run the 5K, half-marathon or marathon, and in the process raise funds for services for children and youth with autism.

It turned out to be just the motivation I needed. Within 24 hours I had made the transition from couch potato to speed demon extremely slow runner. Six months later, I had dropped almost sixty pounds and I was standing exhausted but triumphant at a half-marathon finish line, clutching my finishers medal and sobbing with emotion.

Here I sit, three years later, getting ready to embark on training and fundraising for my fourth Run for Autism. Since that first half-marathon in 2009, most of the weight has stayed off, my half-marathon time has improved by almost ten minutes, and I have raised over $2000 for the Geneva Centre for Autism.

This year’s race is on October 14th. My fundraising goal is a cool thousand dollars. This means that for the next four months, I will be shamelessly asking people for money – friends and family, complete strangers, and everyone in between. The money will go towards supplies and services for children and youth with autism. These are services that can provide skills that will last a lifetime, enabling people like my son George to lead happy, productive lives as fully integrated members of their communities.

Some examples of what $1000 can do are as follows:

  • Art supplies for 40 children and young adults
  • Sports equipment for 20 children and young adults
  • Musical instruments for 15 children and young adults
  • Job training for 15 young adults
  • Field trips for 10 children and young adults
  • Summer camp for 4 children and young adults
  • 2 iPads loaded with apps for individuals with autism
  • 1 piece of state-of-the-art sensory equipment

This list goes to show that every single cent really does make a difference. If you have the ability to, please consider sponsoring my Run for Autism and contributing to this incredible cause for my child and for other people with autism.

To donate, please visit my fundraising page.

It takes a very special kind of village to raise a child with special needs. Today, I invite you to be a part of my village.

(Photo credit: Brightroom Professional Event Photographers)

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Rain In My Running Shoes

I have never been one to let the weather stop me from running. While I prefer clear, cool conditions, I have been known to go out in the rain, wind and snow in order to rack up the miles on my running shoes. From time to time, the seemingly adverse weather conditions have worked to my advantage. It is amazing how refreshing a light shower of rain can be during a long run.

And so, when I woke up yesterday to the pitter-patter of raindrops against the window, I was not deterred. I had a long run planned, and nothing short of a meteor hitting my driveway would stop me. This was to be my last long run before my half-marathon on October 16th, so I really needed to get out there and get it done.

It was cold enough for me to abandon the running shorts in favour of my longer fall-weather running pants. I stuck to the short-sleeved tech shirt, but added a lightweight running jacket. Although the sun was not shining, I wore my hat: the peaked cap is a great way to keep rain out of my eyes. I stocked my fuel belt, cued my music, laced up my shoes, and hit the road for a 20km run.

Sometime during the second kilometre, I became aware that the gentle rain had intensified, and that raindrops were now hitting my face from the side, hard enough to feel like tiny little pellets. By the time I had completed 5km, I was running in a torrential downpour. The wind was buffeting me from side to side and I was wishing that I had brought my gloves. Worst of all, my socks were squelching inside my running shoes. I had to stop twice to pour water out of my shoes.

Still, I soldiered on. People driving by in their cars were looking at me with astonishment, as if to say, “You’re running in this?” I felt validated when, in the fifteenth kilometre or so, I saw a fellow runner braving the elements. It always helps to know that I’m not alone in my running insanity.

After more than two hours of running, I came to a stop in my driveway, having run my allotted 20km. My hands were so cold that I struggled to fish my front door key out of my pouch. Fortunately, my five-year-old son was waiting just inside the door for my return, so he spared me the necessity of actually having to unlock the door myself.

Twenty-four hours later, I am still hurting. My legs are chock-full of lactic acid, and my left ankle is aching. I feel as if I will never walk normally again (I will, of course, be fine by tomorrow).

There are those who wonder why I put myself through this, what possesses me to go out in dreadful weather conditions for the privilege of having sore legs for the next two days.

Part of it is the joy of the sport, the sense of freedom that comes with being out on the open road, the “Runners High”, and the sense of accomplishment when the run has been completed.

Part of it is that I don’t have a naturally fast metabolism like some people, and if I don’t stay active I fall out of shape very quickly. Running is the only form of exercise that really works for me.

The biggest part of it, though, is that I’m doing it for my kids. In two weeks, I am lacing up for my third annual Run for Autism. All funds that I can raise leading up to this event will go straight to the Geneva Centre for Autism, to be used for much-needed services for children and youth with autism.

It is services like the ones provided by the Geneva Centre that have helped my son achieve phenomenal things in the four years since he was diagnosed with autism. In order to see a continuation of the progress, we need a continuation of the funding. This facility really does help people with autism to touch the stars, while also providing support for their siblings and parents.

Ultiimately, I run so that I can do my own small part in making the world a better place for my children. I think that’s a pretty darned good reason to go running in the wind and the rain every now and then.

To sponsor me for my half-marathon, please visit my fundraising page. All sponsorships are being matched by a donor who wishes to remain anomymous, so any funds raised will be doubled!

(Photo credit: http://www.flickr.com/photos/13013135@N00/5879848337. This picture has a creative commons attribution license.)