When someone asks "how did this all begin", I often giggle as I am uncertain how long a story they want to hear. For me, sports had been a part of my life since I was a kid playing outside and I was often found in high school English class with wet hair as I quickly raced out of the pool after a few hours of practice, every morning, in preparation of upcoming meets. 

The competitive drive was in my blood, and I associate it most with my father, who would come home after a long day at the office, and then the gym, and toss his sweaty sports gear at me while laughing as I would squeal and run away with disgust.  It was just 'our thing'.  As a child, mom and I would head downtown to the high-rise buildings and watch my father as he 'cussed' it out playing racquetball with some of the executives from the bank. My vocabulary was gently building as I learned new cuss words with childlike intrigue. 

My strength, I now see, came from his insistent support of any sport I tackled - competitive swimming, soccer, basketball, gymnastics, figure skating, and dance to name but a few.  I even joined his outings as a tag-along to Boy Scout camps and Venturer outings to the dismay of my mother who was fearful as we chopped down trees and used power tools to build 'the camps'.

Then life started to get in the way, a few divorces and corresponding career changes seemed to end my love of sport and I wallowed in pity as my self-esteem dwindled and then faded.  People who had known me, wondered where the "old Kelli" had gone?  I too wondered where she had gone and if I could ever find the same resilient strength to continue and feel proud of the accomplishments I had made.  

Fast forward to 2005, I had re-married (yes, for a third time!), settled in Ontario, just north of Kingston, and was working in a government job with steady hours and steady pay.  My mother had fallen ill and I moved my parents closer to me so they could receive the appropriate care and support. By 2009, my mother had declined in health and died in the Fall, I was devastated and wanted to do something to honor her and make her proud.  This is when the next chapter, began.

I joined a running group and tried that for a while and enjoyed the endorphin rush as I crossed a finish line with my friends beside me.  I set new goals and decided that I would lose weight and adopt a healthier lifestyle.  My plan was to do 50 races by the time I turned 50 and that was how the obsession began.  It started innocently enough, with me setting a goal to just 'finish' a race and it had to be a minimum of 5K.  Then I started to track where I placed based on my age category and this became another small goal or challenge, to place higher and higher up the results ladder. It then was modified to include both road races and triathlons and no race could be repeated. For the next year or so, I trained, ate, slept, and dreamed of my next race plotting them out on an excel spreadsheet with mission precision. Within two years, I had raced in most local town events and reached a few personal milestones of distance, 5K, 10K & 1/2 marathons, and speed.

On a dare, someone said I should try Mud Obstacle racing and this led to an even greater obsession where I competed regularly for the next few years in Ontario, Quebec, and New York State while surpassing my initial goal of 50 races well before my 50th birthday.  Friends and family thought I was crazy, but it was a planned distraction to aid with the loss I felt and to try to rebuild my confidence and physical strength.  It helped me to heal and grow while I built new friendships and was able to look in the mirror without sadness and wanting. 

In 2016 & 2017, I competed in the Obstacle Course Racing World Championships and represented Canada and all those 50+ women who thought "that could never be me" as I trudged and dragged myself across the finish line, proud, exhausted, and sobbing, it felt like I could finally let go of some of that deep sadness and be proud of the achievements I had made. 

In the summer of 2017, I knew that this chapter was nearing its end as injuries persisted and I was up to over 120 races, I was traveling most weekends, and needed to 'feed my fire' closer to home. During a yoga session, a lady who I had seen at a few events before, mentioned the game of 'pickleball' and I was intrigued....yup, you guessed it, she challenged me to come and try it on the caveat that she would tackle one mud event with me. The deal was done, I came out, and of course, was instantly hooked!

Since then, I have supported the sport of pickleball (player, advocate, referee, etc..) and I hope that this will continue well into my 60 & 70s.  I compete in tournaments and promote the sport as an Ambassador for Ontario at every opportunity.  For those still looking for a place to 'fit in', keep searching, keep trying, and keep setting those personal goals to fend off the 'wallow'. Head over to your local courts and see if they are pickleballers who will undoubtedly want to show you what all the fuss is about!

Find your fierce, find your fire, and fulfill your dreams whatever they may be. Paddles up ladies, it is never too late to start!