No, I'm Not Actually Canadian

Yesterday, in the rain, I walked to campus (it's an hour walk). It had started raining just after I left the house and I was away from transit routes. I was also feeling too poor to spring for bus fare so it didn't matter that I was away from transit routes, really.

I walk by a park in one of the residential neighborhoods I cut through on the way to campus. Yesterday, there were hordes of children running around the park. In the rain. They were supervised. I wondered what kind of elementary school would drag all of its students out in the rain to run around a park on a Friday morning.

I walked by the park and started heading south. A woman who was walking in the opposite direction stepped off the sidewalk and started walking in the street, which I also found odd. As we drew closer, she informed me, "You're about to be run over by a bunch of Terry Fox runners." Oh. I turned around and there was a horde of pint-sized runners just about to barrel me over. I stepped off the sidewalk.

I told Ptichka about the incident this morning. I know about Terry Fox, he was the subject of a kid's book my friend owned about personal courage. Since moving to Canada, I also know that Terry Fox is Canadian (as is Rick Hansen, which prompted Ptichka to point out that the US has no disabled heros and that that is sick) but the Terry Fox weekend always blindsides me. Always.

I should work on my Canadian cultural IQ for a bit. It's pretty low in some areas.


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