It’s funny how you can look back on tough experiences with fond memories.

The other day I was sitting in the dressing room at an arena talking about playing hockey outdoors.

There was a young guy with us, probably about 14 years old. He had no clue what most of us experienced growing up playing pond hockey.

I’m sure he’s played some hockey outdoors, maybe even on a frozen lake or pond, but certainly not in the conditions most of us did.

When I was growing up, the only indoor hockey you got to play were league games, and then even some of them were on outdoor rinks.

On those cold winter nights you would layer up under your equipment and then somehow fit a toque under your helmet.

That pompom was always a sore spot – literally! It made your head sore in one spot.

Fortunately, in those days hockey helmets never fit all that exactly so there was a little wiggle room for that little wool ball on the end of your hat.

But that really was nothing compared to the after school hockey we played on the Humber River.

We lived pretty close to the ravine and it was a perfect spot to set up a hockey game. We would get our stuff together and carry our skates slung over our hockey stick, like a hobo leaving town.

We had to cross the high school football field and walk down the hill into the ravine, being careful not to fall as there was no real path; it was almost straight down.

Sometimes we had to bring shovels, or a net, but often we used our boots as goal posts.

We would play until it was too dark to see, or we got too cold to keep going.

The latter was most common. We would get so cold that we couldn’t or wouldn’t take off our skates. We just couldn’t bare the pain, so we would walk home in our skates.

That’s right! – we had to climb out of the ravine with our skates on, dulling them on the dirt and snow, gouging them on the rocks and stones.

Usually by the time we got up the hill, we were crying or on the verge of it. It was a long walk going from one end of the football field to the other.

… And we’re talking a Canadian football field – 10 yards longer plus the extra yardage of the end zones.

By that time our fingers didn’t work to hold on to our boots. We had to carry them like you would a baby in your arms.

Our toes were so cold, the pain was excruciating. But there was still one more hurdle to climb.

And yes, we had to climb. We climbed a 6 foot metal frost fence because the thought of walking around and taking the extra time was unthinkable.

Boots and sticks were flung over the fence, then skates and all we climbed up the fence and over.

From there it was a short distance to the warmth of our home, to mom, hot chocolate, and the utter pain of thawing toes and fingers.

We’d swear we’d never do that again. But the next night we’d be at it all over again.

Here’s the thing: Those tough times shaped us. We were stronger, more determined because of those times. When you battle spiritually, remember those wounds will bring a perseverance and character that you will look back on with fondness.

That’s Life!

Paul

Question: What has been a tough experience that made you stronger? Leave your comments below.