Even flat roads can be hard!

     As I continue my running training for the Army Ten Miler in mid-October, the mileage has gotten longer and the time to think greater.  Misty has finally been able to rejoin me on some shorter runs as the weather has cooled, and I again am able to focus my energy on encouraging her and distancing myself from the fatigue, boredom, or lack of motivation that I sometimes face.

     However, it was on a more recent solo run that I was reminded again of a theme I have noticed before but never bothered to put into words.  As I get stronger, I find myself more willing to choose routes with hills...on days I am open to a challenge.  Imagine it...whether in a car, or on a bike, or on foot, more power, more energy, more effort must be exerted to get UP the hill.  And when we get there, it is a victory.  We've defeated the struggle and are often rewarded with a flat road that feels easy and fast.  

     Interestingly, when we go down a hill, we stride out, we coast, we let gravity do a lot of the work.  It feels great...freeing, almost, to be able to put in less work for sometimes even greater distance and reward!  The problem?  When we get to the bottom of the hill, the flattest of roads feels harder!  For some reason, our bodies, our minds even, see that what we felt before as easy and fast can suddenly feels more humbling...almost disheartening.  

     In life, we rarely face just one up hill followed by a glorious and easy flat road or a freeing downhill joyride.  Instead, we encounter every day challenges...difficult parenting moments, disgruntled customers or unmotivated employees, self-doubt, marital struggles, business failures and other uphill journeys.  Even when rewarded with a carefree downhill ride that lifts our spirits and our momentum, we then are faced with a seemingly harder flat expanse of normal, or worse yet, another hilly challenge.  Maybe it was of this that Walter Elliot was speaking when he said, 

"Perseverance is not a long race; it is many short races one after the other."

     So how do we overcome this?  Does this really mean that when life is good...when the kids are behaving, the boss says, "Well done!" or you finally get a date night, and business is booming...does this really mean that we actually then need to try harder?  YES!  

   This does not mean we can't enjoy our victories, celebrate our good days, or coast down a hill with the wind in our hair and the best music in our ears.  It simply means that when rewarded with a victory lap, we should still pursue the challenge that will bring forth the NEXT victory.  And we should pursue it with vigor, determination, and focus.  It is in this that we can truly enjoy our downhill joyrides...because we know we are preparing ourselves for another.  

What you do today can improve all your tomorrows.  — Ralph Marston

Trust your abilities and stop comparing!

My running time, as of late, has been without Misty.  She has proven that humidity is not something she deals with well, most noticeably evident went she lunges under the shade of a tree mid-stride, refusing to budge.  So while she gets hugely excited when I put on my shoes, I have made the hard choice (for both of us) to leave her behind.

In doing so, I have been forced to face some training demons.  I find it amazing, when I step back and look at it objectively, how unfair I am to my body.  A route I run regularly with Misty, with relative ease, becomes more challenging simply because I don't have her to encourage.  Our society often puts unfair expectations, primarily on women, regarding their body image, their self confidence, and their belief in what they can achieve.

Recently a gym friend started a "Love Your Body" Campaign on her blog.  It was a real privilege to contribute.  I am including my full story here, and encourage you to spend time on her blog.  Not only are there some really powerful stories from numerous strong and powerful women, there are several contributions from different men and their thoughts on women, bodies, empowerment, self-respect, and more.

       “What part of your body do you love?”  For some, that’s probably an easy question.  For others, it’s hugely challenging.  When I was asked it, I was torn.  I wanted to say things like “My smile!” except I’ve noticed more and more wrinkles...or “My abs...because they’ve been showing up more and more!” except I’m still embarrassed, even at 39, by my “pooch” that I’ve always had.  And when you can look around and see a room full of hot bodies...bodies you’d love to have...it’s hard to say that what you’ve got compares.  AND THAT SHOULD BE THE POINT.  That no matter the comparison, because that is bound to happen, value should not be based upon it.  

This subject has been something that I have been giving a lot of thought to over the past several years, and I’m glad to finally have the nudge necessary to put my thoughts down on paper.  For three years I had the privilege of being the head coach of a predominantly woman-athlete crossfit program.  I saw beautiful bodies...not because of their perfect breasts or firm thighs (although there were some of those for sure!) but because the bodies...small or big, tall and short, too thin or too heavy, were TRYING.  And on days where things were challenging and someone would say “I only did XX rounds” or “I only did XX weight” I encouraged a change.  Be enthusiastic about your work!  “I did XX rounds!!” or “I did XX pounds!!”  And it was with great personal joy I would see a smile spread across the athlete’s face.  In that moment, they were honoring their effort...a phrase I often wrote on the board underneath the workout.  In that moment, their whole body was loved.

It’s because of those years that I have been rather introspective.  I have often begrudged my heavy thighs, my “pooch”, my pear shape.  I have wanted something thinner, more tone, less difficult to dress.  But I am coming to see with the reality that my body, as imperfect (in comparison) as it is, HAS DONE EVERYTHING I HAVE EVER ASKED OF IT.  Sure, it could have been better, stronger, faster.  But even in struggle or failure, my body has excelled.  It stood proudly in uniform as I joined the military and in strength, allowed me the privilege of serving our country.  It runs when I tell it to, it climbed a 15ft rope 5 times even though I haven’t touched a rope in more than 10 years, it swims after months out of the water.  It recovers when I stay up too late, eat too much or too little, and heals when I hurt it, forgives when I abuse it.  It allows me to pick up a heavy weight, teach a class, demonstrate a movement even if I’m not warmed up.  It gives me the health I take for granted, and the strength to pour myself into others, even when they don’t know I am doing it.  It may not be the leanest, or the fittest, or the tallest, or the strongest, but my body is dedicated to me and all I asked of it.  

Which of course, brings me to the photo shoot.  I was too caught up in what flaws I saw to really find something I was willing to let the photographer feature, and so I asked my two children.  “What do you think is the best part of momma’s body?  What do you think is the neatest thing that momma’s body can do?”  In the naivete of youth, I wanted to be careful about how I phrased that, lest I project on them what society will do anyway.  Their responses?  “Your heart...because it loves us very much.  And your arms...because they hug us and hold us and show us that you love us and keep us safe.”  And this is where my body has truly gone above and beyond.  With ease, my body carried two healthy babies.  I had two easy and fast deliveries.  I struggled with breastfeeding, yet my body still provided.  I struggled with frustration, yet my body still got up every morning and carried me through my challenges.  I can carry my son who is nearly as tall as me if needed, and I can hold my daughter close when she needs a snuggle.   I can chase them and play with them, and I can walk away from them when my emotions are too sharp or my frustration too high.  

So today, as I try and decide what part of my body I love, I still have no answers.  I see the influence of society on my acceptance of my flaws, and I recognize that the grace I so freely give others (and passionately encourage them to give themselves) is something I often deny myself.  But those things I hold back from myself, that acceptance, is in the mind.  For in the body, I am strong and amazing.  Because my body has done everything I have ever asked of it, and today, I honor my body’s effort, because it is most deserving.    

Check out Jen's blog at justmejennb.com for more about the Love Your Body Campaign, as well as her other writings about exercise, parenting, and life.  

Focus

It's so easy to say that having goals is a good thing.  It is great business practice, it is important for athletes of all levels, it even applies to parenting and relationships, finances and spending habits.  But how we focus on our goals, and how we use our goals to motivate us, is also key.

Last weekend Misty and I went for a run.  It was muggy and gross, and I had forgotten that the local library (on our route) was having a huge community yard sale.  As usual, Misty was thrilled to see her harness and leash, so I was expecting a great run, despite the ick factor and the sidewalk traffic.  I set a goal--to improve upon my route time.  Ready, Set...TROT???  We weren't more than two or three minutes into the run when it became clear that while Misty was excited about running, she wasn't going to be doing much of it.  She was doing a ton of sniffing, was dragging behind, and frankly, was driving me a bit bonkers.  Instead of coaching her through the run, encouraging her to "leave it" when we hit a smell, I found myself annoyed that my goal was at risk.  I still SAID the right things, but my attitude was off.  By the time we got to the Library (just shy of a mile), I was ready to walk through the yard sales with a pissy attitude.  

The thing is, my goal was more important than the process.  The only way I would achieve my goal was if my partner and I were on the same page.  Instead of working WITH Misty, I found myself trying to convince her to "do it my way."  Instead of recognizing the value of giving her a few minutes to just be a dog, and then starting my route, I had tunnel-vision.  MY goal, MY run, MY way.  

The reason this is important is evident in my previous posts.  I don't even really LIKE to run!  But I sure like goals and achieving them.  And in my running, Misty has been a key component to my efforts.  Her input, her contributions, can not, and should not, be minimized, even on a day where her ideas were different than mine and we weren't getting to my goal in a manner that I could comprehend.

So how did it turn out?  I'll be frank.  My poor dog just needed to go poop.  It's pretty uncomfortable to run in that state, isn't it?  I was too tied up in my own expectations to pay attention to her cues!!  We got past the yard sale, found a garbage can, and then sure enough, she TOOK OFF!  So instead of getting our fastest 3 miles time, we cranked out our fastest 2 mile time, and did so with splits faster than what would have been possible for a third mile.  

Did I achieve my goal?  No.  But I achieved something close, and probably did better work in the end.  It was in the listening...in the realization of her position as my partner, that I was able to readjust and together, we could achieve something great.  

Do you set goals?  By yourself, or with others' involvement?  How do you adjust when you goals are not achievable?  How well do you work with others in your pursuits of your goals, even if they are only involved as an outside encourager?  How about when their actions directly impact your success?

Overcoming The Uncomfortable

"The Struggle Is Real!"  It's a saying we hear...or a hashtag we read.  But what does it mean?  Food choices?  Relationship problems?  Going to work each day for a job you don't love?  Maybe it is all of them.  So often then, comes the question of "How do I overcome the uncomfortable?"

A couple of weeks ago Misty and I went out for a run.  In this case, the struggle was real.  I didn't want to go, but she clearly did.  I would have been quite content going for a walk, listening to the birds, and looking for those first signs of spring.  But alas, she was pulling, making it clear we were going to jog, not walk.  We've got a three-mile course that's a straight shot, u turn and return, so we headed out.  Frankly, I just wasn't feeling it, but as usual, the more I watched Misty, and the more I coached her through the run, I came to realize I had made a decision.  I followed her up the hills because I had no choice--I could have walked, but I would have slowed down her progress, and I would have been annoyed at myself for getting in her (and my own) way.  And because of that decision, I ultimately served myself better which meant the rest of my day--my role as a parent, a wife, a friend, a business owner--would all go more smoothly.  

This run, this lesson for me, was less about being a leader and more about being a follower.  And if not a follower, at least a leader that recognizes that sometimes we have to lean on others, trust in their guidance, and listen to their nudgings that get us through the suck.  Whether it is fitness, work, love, or just life, your foundation of strength comes from within.  However, the supporting structures--those things that make the foundation sound even on days it feels rocky--are important too.  Big things can be achieved by accepting help when it is offered, and allowing others to give you their strength is not only a gift to you, but to them as well.

Are you willing to lean on others?

Finding my purpose

I don't love to run.  Let's just get that straight.  But thanks to the encouragement of some kind friends, last year taught me a healthy relationship with running and I completed a 1/2 marathon in just under 2 hours and 10 minutes.  I took a thing I disliked and turned it into a victory!  What's my point?  There has to be some background to where this story starts. So there you go.

About 7 months ago we adopted a dog named Misty.  She is about 18 months old now and a great addition to our family.  She's active when it's appropriate and lazy when it's just right. Kinda like me.  So like I said, a good fit.

The other day I was out for a run.  I'm trying to run 1-2 times a week because I can now appreciate the personal and training benefits of a run and rather than dread it, I try to rise to the challenge.  Anyway, there I was.  And so was Misty.  She's my running buddy now that the weather is getting better.  She does pretty good, especially for a scent hound.  She tolerates my tugging if she sniffs too long, and she clearly enjoys the exercise almost as much as she likes the nap afterwards.

Surprisingly, I was feeling great.  I had a lot on my mind and the fresh air was doing me some good.  But what I noticed, and not for the first time, was how much I was enjoying coaching Misty through the run.  Telling her to leave the smells, encouraging her up the hills, and providing her a calm voice when we got near big dogs (she's still a little wary of anything bigger than she)...it was awesome.  And it was filling a void for me that I've been ignoring.

See, I've been a coach or encourager of some sort for many years.  During my school years, I was selected as a "Natural Helper" and a "Peer Helper", titles that I realize now really meant a lot to me.  I tried to be that friend people came to for encouragement.  When I was in the military, one of my greatest honors was trying to take care of the men and women I worked with, doing my best to support their professional growth and personal development, even to the point where a senior officer accused me of caring too much because I wasn't willing to back down when arguing on behalf of someone under my leadership.  More recently, I was privileged to be called coach by more than 200 athletes, mostly women, while running a functional fitness program in Kansas.  It was a calling I didn't take lightly, and something that brought me great joy and reward.

So back to the run.  As a non-runner, I don't fully buy into runner's high, that euphoria that many runners speak of.  It's not my place of release or calm.  But what was confirmed for me was that coaching and encouraging IS my place of calm.  One mentor called it my ministry...helping others move beyond their fears to places of new achievement, and I was trying to give that to Misty.

While all in all, finding your passion and pouring yourself into it is a good thing, it doesn't come without risk.  Sometimes we sacrifice too much...our own development (I know I've done that), relationships (maybe I have), or even our health.  On this day, I did just that.  So focused was I on encouraging Misty (we had just overcome a hill and a big dog was in front of us--two evils in a short span, one for me and one for her) that I wasn't completely focused on my surroundings.  I stepped up towards a sidewalk, but apparently not ON TO the sidewalk.  I stepped short, landed on a pile of mud I thought was the curb and went flying.  In slow motion, I saw my hands out in front of me, took notice of my body parallel to the ground, and then watched my body crash, my hands scrape violently across the sidewalk.

As I lay there, bloody and upset (all while the other dog owner continued to look at me and walk away), I realized I had three choices.  I could call my husband to pick me up, valid based on my injuries, I could walk home, or I could keep going.

Misty, after checking on me, made it clear she was ready to keep going. 

 And so we did.  We did another two miles, and instead of focusing on my bleeding hands and aching elbow and knee, I encouraged her to pick up her pace, charge up the hills, and finish faster than we started.  And in doing so, I felt no pain, was proud of my work, and had a great sense of accomplishment.

Sure, my hands quickly started hurting when I stopped.  But what I definitely did was fulfill my purpose.  I coached Misty through a good run, and I was the one who ended up all the better for it (all things considered).  In the end, knowing your purpose makes the hard days easier and the injuries of life more manageable.  Being mindful of what you are risking is important, as well.  If it is your own development that is hindered, are you truly fulfilling your purpose?  Something like torn up hands can heal, but ignoring your calling, or letting it get in the way of your best self is not as recoverable.  Finding that balance can be your greatest challenge.

What do you believe your purpose to be?  Have you risked to fulfill it?

About me...and why I'm doing this!

I'm a veteran, a wife, a mom, an athlete, a coach, and an entrepreneur.  I'm complex...like we all are...because I enjoy so many things.  This blog is reflections on leadership and life, parenting and business, and whatever else feels right in the moment.