1350 meters, the “F” word & spinning rooms

I woke up at 4:30 Sunday morning in a bit of a panic about this triathlon… wondering if I can really do it.  A friend of mine said to me at one point that he thought training for a triathlon would be both physically and mentally challenging.

mentally challenging… crap, I didn’t consider that.

He was right.

My panic-stricken-early-Sunday-morning-wake-up-call was proof of the fact that I wasn’t very mentally prepared. Yesterday afternoon the same friend who initially brought up the mental stuff sent me an email pep-talk after I told him of my panic issues. He reminded me that the trick is to keep moving, don’t let the thoughts in your head mess with you.  Remember all of the tough things you have already gotten through, because you kept moving. Draw on that strength and keep moving.

 

I felt better and stronger as I went into my night of training.

 

Scene: Swim clinic.

Time: 8:00pm

 

First, I had to swim 7 x 50.

A 50 is one lap of the pool, each lap is two lengths. So, there-and-back again.

There are seven separate drills we use for training.  I had to do one length of the drill and swim back for each of the seven 50s.

with a quick break, long enough for the coach to tell me the next drill.

So, like, 10-15 seconds.

Seven times.

 

Next, I had to swim a 500. That’s 10 laps, or 20 lengths of the pool.

With no rest.

Holy, crap.

Oh, and Noel (the coach) said and “you have to do some of those breathing on your left”.

I have issues… like, almost drowning issues, with breathing on my left.

For some reason, on the left I swallow water… Noel says “water is good”…

I was looking for pity, not sarcasm.

 

Here is the deal with this and why it is so important to bilateral breathe. When I am in the ocean swimming a mile the day of the triathlon, if the current, swimmers or some other issues are making it impossible for me to breathe on my right side, then my choice is:

Breathe on the left… or die.

Kinda don’t want to die.

 

I did it, and I am feeling more comfortable with it.  I don’t feel comfortable switching back and forth each stroke yet. But, I can breathe on each side now.

 

Back to last night.

As I am swimming my final length of the 500, I’m thinking Noel’s going to tell me to start my 200 cool down… that’s 4 more laps (or 8 more lengths) to cool down… are you kidding me… Swim 4 more laps?

 

Wait, it gets better…

 

I get to the edge of the pool and Bill (he’s another coach, but he is also participating in the event. Some coaches stay on land, and others are coach/participants.  But don’t knock Noel for staying on land, he is training for an Ironman.) is still in the water in the lane next to me. Noel is standing up on the pool deck…

 

Noel: “okay, now you have to swim down as fast and hard as you can, then swim back relaxed.”

I looked at Bill, look back at Noel

Me: “are you kidding?”

Bill and Noel *laughing*

Noel: “No, now go, you only get a 15 second rest.”

Me: “can I stop at the other end and puke?”

Noel: *laughing* “no! you have to swim right back, there is no stopping for anything on the other end. But you can puke right here when you get back” he points at the edge of the pool where the drain is.

Bill: *laughing*

Me: “FINE!”

I go,

I swim my hardest.

I get back.

Noel: “Great! Now you have to do that three more times.”

Me: “really?”

Noel: *laughing* “yes, now go, your 15 seconds are up”

Me: “fuck!”

Bill and Noel *laughing* “GO! GO! GO!”

I go.

Bill: *smiling* “you’re not panting.”

Me: *panting**smiling back* “shut up.”

Bill: *laughing*, because he can, because he is done swimming.

my 15 seconds are up.

Bill and Noel: “GO!”

I go.

I rest 15 seconds.

I go.

Noel: “okay, now you get to do your cool down… swim a 200, at relaxed pace.”

Me: quietly, as I set to push off… “I don’t see how more swimming is a good idea right now.”

Bill and Noel: they hear me. *laughing*

Me: I pull back from my push-off “can I do some of this 200 on my side?” (this is one of the swim drills)

Noel: “yes, for cool down, you can do drills.”

But I didn’t. Just knowing I could was enough and made me not want to.

I swim 200 more meters… 4 more laps… 8 more lengths.

Some of it I even did breathing on my left.

 

I told Bill and Noel about my early Sunday morning panic. Noel said he is not worried about me in the least. He said I have no reason to worry. I will be fine.

 

Let’s do the math:

Warm-up: 100 meters (2 laps, 4 lengths) – I forgot to even tell you about the warm-up.

Drills: 350 meters (7 laps, 14 lengths)

500: It speaks for itself, 500 meters (10 laps, 20 lengths)

Kick-my-ass-make-me-want-to-puke speed drills: 4 x 50 meters = 200 meters (4 laps, 8 lengths)

Cool down: 200 meters (4 laps, 8 lengths)

TOTAL: 1350 meters,  27 laps (33 is a mile) 54 lengths.

TOTAL TIME: 1 hour… I did all of that in one hour!! Hooray to me!

 

And, I didn’t puke.

But, I did need to sit in the locker room and eat my power bar and drink my pomegranate/blueberry juice and wait for the room to stop spinning and rocking and knocking about.

What I have learned is: the most important tools in training for a triathlon are friends and family to support and encourage you and coaches to tell you that you will be fine.

I have both.

I am doing this triathlon to raise money to fight cancer. Click this link to donate.

comfort zones, swimming and the alligator incident.

Saturday we had our first swim clinic with Team in Training. To be honest with you, I walked out of there a little scared. Worried. Freaked out… yeah, all of those.

Seriously, what-the-hell-was-I-thinking?

 

I think it is rare as adults for us to step outside of our comfort zone.  We get into our routines and live our lives staying cozy in the comfort of what we know.

 

Although I know how to swim, I know how to bike, and I know how to run.

a MILE?

In the OCEAN?

 

And did I tell you I’m scared of water?

not all water, pools and water park kinds of things are fine.

Rain? No problem.

(hot-tubs freak me out too, but that is for a whole other reason.)

Swimming in lakes, rivers, oceans etc. scares the hell out of me.

 

-Let’s take a little sidebar trip down memory lane here…

When my brother and I were younger (about 6 & 7ish) we were swimming in the lake in my grandparent’s backyard on a chain-o-lakes in Lakeland Florida.

No one was watching us.

 

My parents were out somewhere. When they returned home my mother asked, “where are Johnny and Wendy?”

“outside swimming in the lake.”

“who’s watching them?” my mother yelled over her shoulder as she ran to the backyard…

 

you see,

alligators lived in the lake (maybe they still do, i don’t know, my grandparents don’t live there anymore. Do alligators move to other chain-o-lakes?).

 

So my mom runs outside and in her fakest calm voice she said,

“Johnny and Wendy, come on in now.”

Johnny was all, okay Mommy, I’m coming, cause I’m a good listener and do what I am told…

and I was all…

what-the-hell? we just got IN the water!

My brother started heading to the shore, you know, because he was told to…

I said “why? we just got in. I’m not getting out until you tell me why! ” cause I’m really good about doing what I am told.

 

My mother told me again to come in,

I stood there in the water and demanded she tell me why I had to get out of the water.

She stood on the shore, glancing over my shoulder and finally said,

“because the alligator is right behind you!”

Holy Crap Lady, enough said!

and I stood there.

Frozen.

Screaming  and crying for her to come get me as I watched the beady–eyes quickly approaching.

 

Clearly I made it out alive, but I am scared to death to swim in water that I cannot see everything around me.

But I am a certified SCUBA diver…

my life is one big contradiction.

Back to Saturday. The clinic made me realize that I am outside my comfort zone here. First because of the whole open water swim factor. Second because at this point, I cannot swim a mile without stopping.  And you can’t stop in the ocean.  There is no side-of-the-pool to grab onto and rest for a minute… or twelve… or forever.

Plus, the current, the other swimmers, the distance, the alligators and sharks,

and the whole swallowing salt-water thing…

don’t you go crazy from drinking salt-water?

So, I’m a little freaked out.

Click the Team In Training button and help me raise $4,000 for cancer.

33, 66, 1.5k… whatever, I’m gunna drown…

Throw whatever numbers you want at me… my goal, really, is to not drown.

I can swim,

I mean I get the concept,

I know how to do it.

 

I’m just not sure I can swim a mile… all at once.

And right before I have to bike 24 miles,

And then run 6 miles.

 

I know I can do all of those things,

just not for that long…

or all in a row.

 

So telling me that 33 laps, or 66 lengths of the pool is 1.5k or just short of a mile, doesn’t make me feel much better. Especially since right now, sitting here, I’m not even sure how many laps, or lengths, or “Ks” I can even swim.

 

December 11th is the swim evaluation with Team in Training.  They’ll see where our skills and endurance is at at that point and then build a training schedule based on that.

Oh yeah, while also doing the “bike, run” training stuff too… and core training.  Cause we all know a strong core is equally important to the swim, bike, run skills… we all knew that, right?

Although I swim laps when I work out, I usually do it after I have worked out.  After I have done weights or have run… then, I swim. But for the fun, calming, zen-ish feeling I get from doing laps., not cause I’m trying to swim a mile… (then bike 24… then run 6…)

 

Now that there are numbers tied to this, now there is 33 laps, or 66 lengths or 1.5k. Now that there is a distance to shoot for, I’m not sure how much I fall short at this point… and I am questioning my sanity for committing to this.

 

Tomorrow, after work, I’m going to Lifetime and will see where I’m at… I’ll let you know.

 

Also, I hear that in triathlons other swimmers swim right over you. Yeah, I said that right, they just swim over you if you’re in their way.

 

 

 

…Awesome.

 

 

Click the Team in Training logo to link to my donation page.

Why am I doing this?

I no longer believe in Hope…

I know it’s been a while since I’ve played this blogging game.  A lot has happened in my life since I last posed.

In October someone I walked away from last December  (because having him in my life was becoming difficult and was sucking the life out of me) came back into my life.  I wasn’t sure if this was a good thing or a bad thing.

In December I started a new full-time job in addition to keeping my speaking engagements and one-on-one clients in the evenings after work.

In February I moved into a new house.

In February I also concluded that the above mentioned “reappearance” was a bad thing and I walked away again, this time for good.

March was filled with love, family and festivity as we all prepared for and celebrated my sister Jane’s wedding on March 20th.

And somewhere, through all of this, I lost HOPE…

Thank GOD!

Cause what I realized is hope keeps you stuck… hope keeps you holding onto something that you probably shouldn’t be holding onto.

I spent almost a year hoping that something would happen, and then when it happened, I was over it… I realized that what I was hoping for wasn’t really in my best interest.  And as a result, what I was hoping for kept me stuck for that entire ten months.

I understand that perhaps I would have stayed stuck longer had this person not come back into my life and prove to me that he actually had not changed.  He played the game for a while, and I believe he wants to change.  But I think he likes playing the game of it, more then actually making the changes.  So, I get it that him coming back was good, I would have stayed stuck longer wondering “what if?” (And, by-the-way… At this point, I’m actually not so sure I really believe he truly wants to change… but I digress)

So, I do get it that I hoped he would come back and he did so I am able to close that door forever and never wonder again… but, let’s be honest here, that wasn’t what I was hoping for when I hoped he would come back.

but that is not my point…

Well I guess it is my point in a round-about way.  Here is what I really feel about the situation… I should never have wasted my time with Hope, instead my time should have been spent exclusively with Faith.

You see, Faith is a much better companion, Faith knows what is best for me, even when I don’t.  Faith is stronger than me and stands by my decisions even when I start to question them.  Faith knows that no matter what, things will work out and I will be fine.  Faith, doesn’t give me false hope like, well, like Hope does.  Hope will take over my brain and Hope becomes an active participant in recreating history or imagining a future that is probably never going to happen.  It can ultimately leave me waiting and wanting.  I mean, think about it… what if he never came back and I didn’t get to close that door… would I still be sitting here hoping?

Probably.

Would I still be sitting here, not seeing the other possibilities and opportunities right infront of me… The better possibilities and opportunities…

Most likely.

So, I’m done with Hope, for me it’s all about Faith… Faith that I make the right decisions whether there is a bright, shining light confirming I did or not.  Faith is about believing even without proof, it’s about not questioning yourself and about not wanting things outside the realm of possibility.  I’m not going to sit around and Hope for things to happen in my life.  And I’m certainly not going to hold back in my life, not able to move on because I’m waiting to see what happens somewhere else… somewhere where nothing is actually happening, nothing except me just hoping it will.  This applies to every aspect of my life, not just relationships, but everything.  Along the way there were other jobs I wanted, but when I didn’t get them I had faith that I didn’t because there was a better one out there for me.  I apply Faith to most of the areas in my life so why in this situation did I rely so heavily on Hope?

I am going to keep moving forward in my life with Faith and believe that everything brings me to where I am supposed to be… and the people who are supposed to be in my life will be there.

Whether something brings me joy or pain and even when I don’t understand…

I’ll have Faith.

…so far, Faith is an awesome companion that has opened some amazing doors that are better suited for me and that are truly in my best interest.

Life Lessons at the Airport

“Why is it that every time I travel I end up at the furthest gate on the longest concourse in any airport I am traveling through?” I thought to myself as I walked through O’Hare Airport; my carry-on bag slung over my shoulder, my Sunday paper tucked under my arm and my Coke (of course) in my hand.  I made my way down the quiet concourse to wait for my plane to take me to San Diego.  I was feeling young and small and once again in my life, I felt out of place.  I started wondering “when am I going to feel like I belong somewhere?”

I enjoyed my job and for the first time I felt I really had some value and something to contribute.  I am off to do group meetings to enroll employees in their benefit plans.  I thought about how I had information that other people needed and I thought about what a great responsibility that is.  Instead of having a fear of getting up in front of a group of people and speaking, I was calm and relaxed.

I sat back and as I began reading my paper and drinking my Coke I noticed a man walking toward me.  I watched the way he walked with confidence.  He seemed to be a person of power and wealth.  He was a good looking man with perfectly tailored clothes and impressive stature; this man had a presence.  I’ve always been an observer of people and have always played the game of putting people in a job and life circumstance in my imagination.  I thought whoever he was he was definitely successful.  I thought he seemed pretty arrogant and full of himself… I made a lot of judgments and assumptions based on how he carried himself and what he was wearing.

As he got closer I stopped watching him and pretended to read my paper.  The terminal was empty, although there were plenty of open seats, he sat right next to me.  He got himself situated, putting his carry-on bag here and his coffee there and his magazine: Newsweek, plopped down on the floor in front of him. “You traveling for business, pleasure, or are you heading home?” he asked ignoring the fact that I was reading my paper.  “Business… and you?” I answered.  “Heading home.” He sighed as he relaxed slumped back in his chair still looking at me.  He seemed to be waiting for me to say something.  He looked to be in his early fifties and I was in my early twenties.  “What do these two people have in common?” I thought as I chucked my paper on the floor and pulled my legs up onto my seat and tucked them underneath me.  I turned to him.  I had no idea what to say or what to expect but he was staring at me clearly waiting for me to say something…  He was waiting and I was intrigued.

“So, what’s your story?” I asked, surprised that those words came out of my mouth.  He sat up in his chair and turned his body toward me, never breaking his stare.  Now it was his turn to be intrigued. “What do you mean?  What story do you want to hear?” he asked excitedly. “I don’t know; what story do you want to tell me?” I said smiling at him.

The challenge was on.

He smiled and turned staring ahead at the empty terminal in front of us for at few minutes.  He slowly rubbed his hand back and forth on his chin.  I found that amusing, like it was helping him think.  I could see he welcomed the challenge and was going to call my bluff and come up with a good story.  With the smile still on his face, suddenly he swung back with a childlike expression on his face and a glow in his eye. 

“When I was in college” he started “I was in this fraternity…” as he continued with his story he moved around the seat with excitement and animation as he spoke, there were times he stood up and acted out parts of his story.  I remember feeling the gap between where I was at in my life and where he was at in his life quickly disappear.  I remember thinking how simple and real this moment felt.  I thought about how I felt I would have nothing in common with this person in his well tailored suit as I judged him while he was approaching me only minutes earlier.

After he finished his story he immediately sat back and began telling me how his wife had passed away a few years ago and what brought him here to O’Hare Airport on this day.  Today was not a business trip or vacation; today was another story of great loss in his life.  In this moment I realized how similar we all are.  No matter what our age or our life circumstances, we all have a great need to connect with others, we all have a great need to feel like we belong.

We all have a need to tell our stories, but more important, we all need to have our stories heard.

We all need to be listened to, we all need to be understood and we all need to be receive with compassion.  I realized why he sat right next to me.  The terminal was empty, for the most part, but what he needed more then anything, was human connection.

He simply needed to be heard.

It was time for our plane to board; he, of course, was in first class.  I, of course, was not.  He got up and he thanked me, I got up and gave him a hug and said, “No, thank you.” “For what?” he asked.  “For the life lesson.” I smiled.   He simply returned the smile and the hug and walked off.

As he walked away I realized I never did find out what he did for a living.  I also realized how glad I was that it never came up.  We connected on a real level, not on a superficial level of age or job title, but human to human, story to story.

Fear vs. Regret

It seems we stop our lives short of happiness because of our fears.  Especially now, with the economy being the way it is, a lot of people are now living what they have feared.

Often I am asked “what is worse to live with: fear or regret?”

A few years ago my father, my sisters and I were in Rome.  We had the opportunity to go through the Catacombs.  Being claustrophobic I decided I was not going to go in them.  I could think of a lot of other things I would rather be doing then going deep underground and walking through a maze of hallways leading to hidden rooms where a long time ago people gathered to secretly have mass, celebrate their faith and bury their dead.

We got to the Catacombs and I stood in line as my family and the other people on the trip with us were waiting to go in.  I thought to myself that this fear of mine is stopping me from even trying. I disregarded the whole experience and wasn’t even willing to try because I have this fear.  I thought about how two days from now I will be sitting on a plane on my way home.  I thought about how I would regret that I didn’t even try to go down into the Catacombs.  I thought about how I don’t know if I will ever be in Rome again and if I would ever get a “do-over” on skipping this experience today.

So I decided I would try.  I thought (okay, this will make you laugh) I thought, I will go down and if it is that bad I will turn around a come back up.  Yeah, nice try, you cannot turn around and come back.  But I realized that too late. I realized that after I had descended the stairs down deep underground.  It was getting dark and narrow.  As light from the open world behind me was getting dimmer and dimmer I turned around to reassure myself that I was fine and I could get out if I wanted.

No, I couldn’t… there was a river of people flowing down the stairs behind me.

I was stuck… I had no choice but to keep moving… The only way out was to go through.

Hmmm, sounds like a metaphor for life.

So, I got right up to the Priest who was leading the tour and stayed on him.  We started walking and he was giving us the history and interesting information about the Catacombs.  Blah, blah, blah. Get me out of here!

At this point the walls were only my shoulders width apart, it was tight.  We turned a corner and I saw the most beautiful thing that I would see my entire time in Italy:

The “exit” sign at the end of the path.

Yes, it really struck me as odd and looked completely out of place to have a lighted exit sign in the Catacombs, but I didn’t care, at that moment I loved the person who put it there.   I was so happy we were almost finished and thought to myself, “see, that was no big deal“.

The priest leaned down and put up a chain blocking that part of the hallways and began leading us deeper and deeper back into the Catacombs and further away from my beloved exit sign.  “We are going to go all the way  back, tucked into the far corner to see one of the rooms where they used to say mass, isn’t that exciting?” the priest asked me in his Italian accent, that  made it actually almost sound exciting. “No, not really, I was liking the looks of the exit sign.” I replied.  He laughed and said “Ahhh, claustrophobic? It was brave of you to come down anyway, good for you.” Again, sounding much nicer with the accent.

We got to the back corner, I was still alive. I was the first person into the room but stayed at the doorway, where the last person into the room should have stood.  People filed in the room and it made me more and more nervous.  Eventually, everyone was in and the room was packed.  I was still at the doorway, but that wasn’t good enough.  I left the room and squatted down against the wall in the hallway.  I looked way down to the beginning of this hallway and watched people pass and head in the direction of the exit sign.  It made me feel more blocked in.  Now there are groups of people between me and the exit sign.

My stomach hurt and although it was cold down there, I was sweating.

Eventually we finished the tour and we got out.  I turned to my sister and said “I will never do that again.” she turned to me and said “you know, I bet you would, cause now you know what to expect and look, you’re fine.“

She is right.  I walked through my fear and I was fine and I have no regret.

I know this is a simple story of fear and regret, but we can all see how our fears can result in regrets that are much more painful and much more crippling. I have learned that our fears can stop us from really living our life to the fullest.  Our fears and our fears alone are what create our regrets.  It is our fear of something that causes us to not love all the way, not live all the way and not experience true joy all the way.

Our fears we can walk through, we can always conquer our fears, but sometimes we cannot undo our regrets.  The more we walk through and fight through our fears, the less regrets we will have in the end.

I never regretted going into the Catacombs, but I would have always regretted it if I hadn’t.

Even Football Players Cry.

Immediately upon receiving my coaching certification I began volunteering at CTC (The Career Transition Center) downtown Chicago.  Here I did one-on-one coaching with people in job search or “in transition” as it is referred to these days.

One day, a new client walked into my office, he was a large man with a large presence.  His life had consisted of football and more football as a player, a coach and a fan… and you could tell.

He sat in my office and discussed life and the struggles of being “in transition”.  He dove into all of the emotions that came with this part of his journey.  He often got choked up and every week his eyes would tear up and he would cry just talking through everything.  The emotional toll that being unemployed took on him was apparent and growing as the weeks progressed.  One week he stopped talking and held his face in his hands and started sobbing.  He told me that one of their two cars had been repossessed this week, and their house was now in the beginning stages of being  foreclosed on.

Each week as he cried, I listened.

He talked about his wife being sick, she has MS.  He talked about the additional stress her illness added to his list of things to worry about.  He talked about his daughters, ages 18 and 20 at that time. The bills for college and the bills that came with everyday life.  He talked about how close and how loving and supportive they were as a family.  He painted a beautiful picture.  But still each week he would sit in my office and cry because of all of the stress and uncertainly.  He would cry about his fears and his insecurity about who he was and what was going to happen next for his career and for his family.

One day he came in and sat down and began to tell me that he was worried about his wife, she told him the she felt he was disappearing, that she felt he was pulling away from her.  I have to say I was surprised to hear that she would say that after all the stories about how supportive and close they were.

So I asked him, “what does she say when you tell her all the stuff you tell me about how scared you are and how insecure you feel and how worried you are about the future?”  He said “Oh, no! I don’t talk to her about all that!”  I was shocked “why?” I asked “Because I am trying to protect her.” he said in a very matter-of-fact way “Hmmm, protect her from what?  You come in here week after week and talk about your fears.  You sit in front of me each week and cry because you are so scared.  How can you tell me and not your wife?  She knows your car has been repossessed, she knows your house is in foreclosure, what are you protecting her from?“

He sat and thought about it for a while.  His athletic, football physic was now all slumped over in the chair looking very much like that of a 5 year old boy feeling scared, guilty and shameful.  He looked past me – almost through me, staring blankly at the wall for a while.

I sat in silence observing him.

Eventually he looked back at me and kind of smiled and winced at the same time… “I really don’t know.” he said, shrugging his shoulders adding to the childlike behavior he had transformed into.

I looked at him, as the tears rolled down his face, I smiled and said “Your wife knows you are scared, unsure and afraid of the unknown, but you are not talking to her about it and that scares her and makes her feel like you are drifting away.  She can feel that disconnect and that scares her more then losing your car or your home. She would probably live with you in a tent in an empty field.”  I told him to go home and tell her… I told him to tell her everything he was scared of.

To tell a person you love all of your fears and insecurities and have them put their arms around you and love you anyway, that is unconditional love… that is what we are all here to experience.

So, the next week he came into my office and closed the door.   Before he even sat down his eyes were filled with tears.  He started by thanking me for the most amazing gift of his life.  He sat down and began telling me about what happened after he left my office that day.

He left questioning what I told him, but soon thought that it made sense.  After all, what did he have to lose.  So he asked his wife and daughters too, to sit down so he could talk to them.  He said opening his mouth to begin to speak was one of the hardest things he had ever done.  He continued to explain that as he started talking, as the words came out of his mouth, it soon became the easiest thing he had ever done.   As he started telling them about all of his fears, insecurities and worries about the future, they all moved in and gathered closer together.  As she watched her football player husband cry for the first time ever and as his daughters saw their father in a brand new light, they moved in closer and put their hands on him.  Soon their arms were around him.  They listened as he spoke from his heart.  They listened as his voice cracked as he talked through his tears.  He said by the time he was finished they were all crying, but they were also all sitting together, arms wrapped around each other sharing their fears and reassuring each other that no matter what, they would all be fine.

Unconditional love… He opened up and allowed himself to be completely vulnerable, he told the people he loved his fears and they loved him anyway.

Over the next few weeks he was still looking for a job and still unsure about his future, but what he was sure of was that he is loved…

He said it was true, his wife said she would live in a tent on an open field with him any day.  He thanked me again, but I told him that he did all the work, I just suggested he give vulnerability a try.

So, it seems… even football players cry.

My secret…

I stand in front of a room full of people, over and over and I tell my story.  I talk about all the good, the bad and the ugly things in my life that have together brought me to where I’m at in my life right now.  I tell it all, and I honor the mistakes and the miss-steps I have taken along the way.  I talk about what I learned from them and how I am grateful for all of it because I like where my life is right now.  I like the adventures that both challenge and joy brings.

I talk about how they brought me to write my book about my Five Guiding Principles:

1. Be 100% present in everything you do; nothing else is more important then the experience of this moment.

2. We are all different for a reason; draw on other people’s strengths to make you stronger and resist the need to control others.

3. Discover your uniqueness; we all need to discover, develop and share our uniqueness, this is where our confidence lies.

4. Stand in who you are; don’t make excuses for the decisions you have made in your life.  Honor them all and believe that your life is supposed to look like it looks right now – no matter what that is.

5. There is a reason why our lives unfold one moment at at time; to give us a chance to stop, to cope and to breathe… to give us a chance to catch up.

Nothing we haven’t all heard before, I know, but these are the 5 principles that I believe once you implement them into your life, your life will be more peaceful and free.

So, I stand in front of the room and I tell my stories, the stories of the times when I didn’t follow these principles; the time in my life that I didn’t really like myself very much.  The time when my fears and insecurities ran my life and created a person that I didn’t even like.   I stand there and tell these stories that don’t always show me in my best light… and people tell me that I am courageous, that I am an inspiration and that I have motivated them to change.

What?

Courageous? Inspiration? Motivating?

Here is my secret… say it out loud.

Tell your story.

I quickly learned that every time I told my story it helped me heal, but even more surprising to me was that every time I told my story it also helped the people who heard my story heal too.

Later, after I speak, I sit in a room together with people who just heard me and one-by-one in a smaller, intimate group, they open up and tell their story.  Here they begin their journey of healing.

Because I spoke-

she decides to speak, and then-

he decided to speak too…

Soon, together, we learn that we are all the same here, we all have stories and we are all working our way through this life together.

I have learned that keeping my pain, insecurities and fears to myself made me someone I didn’t like and gave me a life that wasn’t very fun.  I learned when I started telling my story, people started telling theirs and this simple act of realizing that we are not alone brings peace, calm and healing into our lives.

This is my secret, and go ahead and tell people, it’s not one of those secrets you need to keep: say it out loud… there it is, that’s the big secret… whatever it is that is causing you pain, say it out loud.   Inside your heart, whatever you are holding in there is monumental.  But when you say it out loud and it is out in the vastness of the universe, you will realize it is not monumental at all.  So tell your story, tell it over and over and see that talking about your fears, insecurities and the ugly parts of your life will actually free you.

We all have issues and burdens and we are here to help each other carry them, not judge how we got them.

So, you see, I don’t think I am courageous or inspirational, I just learned that saying things out loud and sharing my story has brought me and the people I have shared them with healing, which leads to a more peaceful life.  Because of that feeling, because I love how it feels to be real and transparent, I will stand in front of the room as often as I can and tell my story again.  If that makes me courageous, inspiring and motivating then, okay, if it helps others to learn what I have learned, then I will take and wear those labels with honor.

Say it out loud.  Do it just once and see…

Tell me… I’ll listen.

I consider all the stories I have heard gifts. I treasure every one of them just as much as I treasure the people who felt a safe-haven with me.  Safe enough to opened up and share… simply because I shared.