Wounded Warriors remember the fallen and help the living
In late May, Sean Stadnisky rode 563 km in six days from Paris to London. The ride was anything but easy. During the first day out of Paris, wind and rain buffeted Stadnisky and the other eight Canadian men accompanying him. The Toronto-based research analyst for the Ontario Hospital Association also climbed some 5,400 m throughout the course of the event. “Physically, it was tough,” Stadnisky said. “There were some days when you had to dig deep because you felt like you had nothing left. I remember one day, I bonked out four times. It was just like, ‘Oh, God, there’s another hill.’”
James Lamothe, a police sergeant in the Region of Durham in Ontario, also took part in the ride and agrees that it wasn’t always effortless. The first day was the longest at 160 km and was the one with the rough weather. “It was probably your worst cycling weather ever: it was very windy and rained like crazy,” Lamothe recalled.
Lamothe, Stadnisky and their friends were no Tour de France wannabes. Nor were they idle cycle tourists. Rather, the 36-year-old Stadnisky and his companions were participating in a unique program for war veterans suffering from post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD). Wounded Warriors Canada is a nonprofit organization established in 2006 to improve the quality of life for injured Canadian soldiers and their families. The charity runs a number of different challenges designed to increase veterans’ sense of self-worth, and to link them up with others so that they understand they’re not alone with their suffering.
Wounded Warriors sends soldiers and veterans to Tough Mudder competitions, for example. In 2012, the charity decided veterans would benefit from participating in the annual Help for Heroes Big Battlefield Bike Ride. Help for Heroes is a British organization similar to Wounded Warriors that allows hundreds of civilians the opportunity to ride beside wounded veterans while learning first-hand how their fundraising dollars are helping heal the soldiers.
The Canadian Mental Health Association characterizes PTSD as an anxiety disorder that causes the suffering individual to continue to relive a psychologically traumatic situation well after the physical danger has passed. The symptoms usually show up three months after the event that triggered them and may include powerful, recurrent memories of the event, nightmares and emotional numbness. The mental health association says the disorder can become so severe that it becomes difficult for individuals to lead a normal life.
Before Stadnisky was released from the military last September, he served first as a master seaman and then as an officer. He went on postings to the Persian Gulf, Afghanistan and the Middle East in 2001, 2002 and 2003. Although Stadnisky wasn’t a combat solider, that didn’t make active duty any easier. As with many in Afghanistan “living inside the wire,” or inside the relative safety of a base, he experienced the almost routine rocket attacks the Taliban carried out. As it was, Stadnisky said his posting to Afghanistan should only have been a couple of weeks, but he ended up staying for two-and-a-half months. “I really wasn’t prepared to be there,” he said.
Stadnisky will only speak about what happened in very general terms. He says one incident in Afghanistan took place, but that in the end no one got hurt, “nobody lost any pieces,” and no one died. Even so, sandwiched between his other two postings and during what he characterizes as a very busy time, it’s clear to Stadnisky that his PTSD dates back to then – but when he started experiencing the illness, he didn’t even realize he was sick. “When I look back it, it all kind of comes together now,” Stadnisky said.
Stadnisky became withdrawn, moody and angry all the time. He tried to keep himself as busy as possible because he believed if he was occupied, he’d start to feel better. This routine went on until he visited a doctor in 2010, who diagnosed PTSD, a generalized anxiety disorder and major depression. “I guess I was a constant lump of anger and sadness,” Stadnisky said. “It’s kind of like a scab on your arm that’s infected underneath. You don’t really know the extent of the infection until you rip off the scab. That’s kind of what happened to me and once that happened, it signalled the end of my military career.”
Stadnisky began cycling a few years ago, but landed on the Wounded Warriors ride after one of his previous bosses contacted Wounded Warriors’ founder, Wayne Johnston. Johnston called Stadnisky and more or less told him he’d be doing the Paris to London ride. The fully supported ride offered lunch stops every day and the cyclists stayed in hotels. The ride itself focused on riding past former First and Second World War battlefields. The riders had what were called “rolling guide stops,” where they learned of the military history of particular regions and spots, including the Battle of Britain Memorial and Dover.
For Stadnisky, the high point of the tour came when they reached the Calais Canadian War Cemetery, where 698 men are buried, the result of the fighting in 1944 as the Canadian First Army pushed the Germans out of France. Stadnisky had the opportunity to lay a wreath at the cemetery during a ceremony. “That’s kind of a once-in-a-lifetime thing,” he said. “Only a small percentage of the population will get to go to a place like Calais. That was pretty moving for me.”
All well and good, but what does all of this jaunting about on bicycles have to do with helping soldiers with their PTSD? Lamothe, who co-ordinated the Canadian contingent joining the Big Battlefield Bike Ride, said it gives soldiers an outlet to exercise physically as part of an ongoing wellness program. As he points out, you can’t just take veterans, put them on a bike and expect them to cycle for six days non-stop.
Wounded Warriors gave the cyclists a training program and members worked out on spin bikes throughout the winter. It wasn’t until late April that most of them were actually able to begin biking outdoors. Lamothe said he emphasized concentration on cadence and then endurance. He wanted the veterans to get used to the long days in the saddle. “It’s not something you just decide one day and hop on the bike the next and go,” he said. “There are very few Forrest Gump moments in the world.”
The soldiers also committed to more than just following a physical training program. Lamothe said one of the biggest goals currently in Wounded Warrior is the identification, treatment and publicity of mental health issues. As part of the ride, the soldiers agree they will speak to friends, family and the public about mental health issues that Lamothe said Canadian soldiers, both serving and veteran, face every day.
In 2012, Cervélo Canada sponsored Wounded Warriors and gave 21 S2 road bikes to the charity. WestJet shipped the bikes free of charge across Canada to the participants. Lamothe partnered with several bike stores across the country to ensure that the riders were fitted properly. “Cycling is a fantastic physical outlet,” Lamothe said. “It’s something that most people can do. Cycling is an easy choice for us.”
The tour itself, with its visits to the many battlefields Canadians fought in during the two great wars, is meant to act as a source of reflection for the soldiers, which many find therapeutic. Before this year’s six-day ride kicked off, Wounded Warriors took the soldiers to Vimy Ridge, the scene of Canada’s nation-defining battle against the Germans in 1917, according to the Canadian War Museum. The victory by the Canadians marked the moment “when the country emerged from under the shadow of Britain and felt capable of greatness.”
According to Lamothe, “Vimy is the type of place where you put your feet on the ground and you’re not touching the ground, the ground is touching you. It allows the veterans to really reflect on their own personal lives, experiences and where they are in the world and how they’re going to go forward.”
Next year, Wounded Warriors is planning its own Canadian-centric tour. It will kick off from Juno Beach on the 70th anniversary of the landing on D-Day and then will end nine days later at Vimy Ridge. The idea is to take 158 cyclists from the general public, one to honour each Canadian solider killed in the Afghanistan mission. The Maple Leaf Ride, as the tour will be known, is going to be an “epic” event, Lamothe said. “We’re hoping to gather interested Canadians from across the country to go over to France and celebrate remembrance with us on our ride.”
For his part, Stadnisky said while he was over in Europe, he was encouraged to share his story and in turn heard from others how his story reflected theirs. The realization that he wasn’t alone with his struggle came as a relief. “That was the first time I’d ever told my story in public,” he said. “So for me, it was cathartic, but what it did was spark an interest in me to help more people.”
