She “lived life to the fullest.” Louise Atkinson Clark dies at 73

When Louise Atkinson Clark came home from a month-long stay in hospital after being hit by a truck while out on a training ride in July 2012, she posted a sign on her fridge door: “Je suis en vie, et je marche.” “I am alive, and I am walking.”

It was just barely true: the retired nurse had suffered a concussion, a collapsed lung and 16 broken bones, including several cracked vertebrae in her neck and back that left her unable to turn her head. Yet no one in her family and her vast network of friends in the international triathlon community was surprised when, less than one year later, she won her age-group title in the ITU World Duathlon Championship in Ottawa and finished seventh at the ITU World Grand Final in London. That was Louise: determined, optimistic, single-minded, resolute. And always smiling ear to ear, often through pain, throughout years of rehabilitation. (We wrote about Atkinson Clark in the May issue of Triathlon Magazine in 2015.)

Louise Atkinson Clark, 73, died unexpectedly Saturday while visiting her son François and family in Whitehorse, Yukon. Her death came suddenly, François Clark said in a Facebook post. She’d spent the previous week playing and cuddling with her beloved grandchildren.

“Maman was full of joy,” he wrote in French. “She had 1,001 plans and lived life to the fullest.”

The news of Louise’s death has left Canada’s triathlon community reeling.

“A true beacon,” wrote Montreal triathlete Lisa Lipari on Atkinson-Clark’s Facebook page.

“A beautiful heroine,” said her friend Katy St-Laurent, the sports clothing designer. Meeting her was to understand the meaning of “joie de vivre,” said Alexandra Tremblay-Champoux, “proof that cultivating your passion is the key to happiness.”

Atkinson Clark moved from Lorraine, Que., to Mont-Tremblant a few years ago to train full-time. The French language newspaper La Presse dubbed her “the legend of Tremblant” last June as she prepared to race the Ironman 70.3 there – an event she never missed. I spoke to her on the phone an hour after that race was cancelled due to the dangerous level of wildfire smoke. She described ash falling on car windshields and shrugged off her disappointment after months of preparation. When the race was rescheduled for August, she nailed it, clinching her slot for the 70.3 world championship in Taupo next year.

A month later, she was in Pontevedra, Spain, for the ITU World Championship, proudly carrying the flag for Canada in the athletes’ parade. She had to settle for bronze there after a difficult run in which she stumbled several times and fell just 50 metres shy of the finish line.

“A blood pressure problem or lack of carbs or electrolytes – I’ll never know,” she said.

Then she was off to Chicago to run the marathon. Her sights were set on a Boston qualification, having already ticked off London, Berlin, Tokyo and New York. The race didn’t go well, but in typical Louise fashion, she dismissed the DNF.

“There are worse things than not finishing a marathon,” she quipped.

A month later – the night before she died, as it turned out – Louise was back and forth with her long-time coach, Philippe Bertrand, planning her 2024 season, wondering whether she should attempt Chicago again or sign up for Paris next summer.

“She had the enthusiasm of a kid. She always had a million plans,” Bertrand told me. “My role was always to hold her back a little.”

In the same email exchange, she told him she was taking advantage of her time in Whitehorse to rest and to simply enjoy her grandchildren.

“She was so happy to be there,” Bertrand said.

She had a huge following on social media, tracking the accomplishments of every triathlete she’d ever met, beginner or pro, to give them a thumbs up, and sharing recipes, household tips, inspirational videos and quotes. On October 7, she posted this one: The older you get, the closer eternity seems. You never know when the sand will run out of the hourglass. So I just want to say: live well. Be kind to others. Love and appreciate your family and friends. Tomorrow is not guaranteed.