All In The Groove

I am the youngest of three children, in fact,  my mom had three kids in 28 months, and not only am I the youngest but I am the only girl.  I suppose you could say being that close in age to brothers made me somewhat of a tomboy.  From early childhood I found myself shooting hoops in the driveway, and hitting balls pitched to  me by my dad with the phrase,”step into it and follow through.”  So, for me at the ripe old age of 7, the answer was clearly to play t-ball.  I can remember putting my Northern’s t-shirt and matching blue cap on for the first time for my first real baseball game.  My dad, who has the patience of a saint to take on a 7 year old t ball team, was my coach.   It was in my first at bat that day that I realized two things. First, I was the only girl in uniform on either team, and second the outfield was being waved in by their coach, as clearly I could not poke one past the infield.  It was the 70’s, and I was, well… a girl.

Sometimes when you worry
The tendency to hurry
Can make your vision blurry
And blind you
You might shake and you might stammer

-       Blues Traveler,”All in the Groove”

This weekend started out feeling a bit like that first at bat 42 years ago.  My cofounder and I hosted our first live 5k fundraising event for The 1DOS Foundation.  To be honest, from the outsider, I could be considered a rather unlikely choice for such a task.  I am a nurse practitioner by trade.  To be planning large scale events as a CEO was certainly not something on my radar 5 years ago, or something some in my life would think I could pull off.   I found myself unable to sleep most of the week as every single little detail jerked me awake with worry.  Would the bags arrive in time, would we have enough shirts, what if the photographer didn’t show, and wait…  there were certain photos we needed for promotional purposes, is this on the list?  The list.  That thing seemed endless and the worry was huge. 

Well if it's your destiny don't fight it
War between the states unite it
It might be difficult but might it
Be worthwhile?

I would hit the airport on Thursday and immediately my partner and I would set to work on the list, gathering and packing things and prepping for the race.  Relaying things to our social media director hoping to generate some hype for our runners.  Friday was more of the same.  Through all of our anxious speak and frenzy of errands, we would pause on Friday.  The reality was, Saturday was more than a race.  We were launching our second scholarship recipient.  We committed to sponsor her for 12 months with gym membership, healthy food, dietician and motivational support.  Friday we had dedicated some time to meet with her to discuss her goals and the coming year.   She is coming from a difficult place in life currently and wants nothing more than to get healthy.  As we are nontraditional leaders, with an unlikely background, this meeting took place at a tattoo parlor.  Why? I have learned that the motivational game is best played meeting players exactly where they are.  The tattooing of a shark fin on her forearm sparked a beginning for her that it was time to put the past away and attack her future like a great white and begin to show the world she is no longer a victim, rather she is a freaking shark.  In those moments, the stress of the event didn’t matter as this was the heart and soul of our organization.

I ain't no Solomon from Babel
But my cards are on the table
And I swear that if I'm able
I'll run that mile

Saturday morning would arrive and miraculously things went off without a hitch.  We had 156 participants, some great Halloween costumes, PR’s set on the course and a lot of laughs.  We had given the event all we had and it had paid off, which brings me to the outcome of my first at bat.  The outfield being pulled in by coaching staff was disheartening for sure, but my Dad just stood next to the dug out and gave me the nod.  In my mind I knew what he was saying,”step into it and follow through.”  I did just as he had taught me and sent it sailing way over the left fielder’s head.  From that moment on, the outfield was never pulled in again for me.   

But could that pomp and glamour
Remind you
Of who you are and where you're going
And whose mind that you're blowing

As in all things, it’s all in the groove.

It’s moments like that at bat, or all of the success that came with Saturday’s race that remind me that there will always be those in life who will underestimate who we are and take the big step in for our big at bat.  The trick is to not join the outfield in that sentiment, find our groove and take a giant step in and follow through, as you might just find yourself sailing one right over the left field wall.  Only then will you see that you are always way more capable than you believe and that the best is truly yet to come.  

The Best Day of My Life

Last week I had occasion to do the "Chicago" Spartan Beast with my cofounder Karl, that is, the "Chicago" race that was held two and a half hours south in Indiana.  Over the last three years we have grown two businesses and helped dozens of people find their way to good health and conquer their own fears.  Part of what we do is take people to races.  We help them see nothing is truly out of reach with enough hard work and motivational support, and watching our newbies cross that finish is something I will never get tired of.  This particular Beast was my 13th Spartan Race, but unique in its own right. This one was done solely as a 1DOS management team unbeknownst to our Sharks.  It was a race we had trained for for months.  It allowed us to set our own goals, train to the best of our abilities and lead by example.  Sounds great right?  Yeah...  I wouldn't exactly say me hanging on for dear life at the top of the 15 foot slip wall when I lost my footing, uttering a string of profanity that is best left over Indiana, or shall I say,"Chicago" was awe inspiring.  In fact, we have decided to refer to my partner's hauling of my sorry ass over that wall as,"management team building."  Nonetheless, we finished, medal in hand, a stronger management team with all new goals.  Mission accomplished. 

Today?  A whole other thing.  The Mohawk Hudson Half Marathon.  Truth be told, it was my fourth half marathon in the last 13 months.  Not including the two 14 mile Beasts I did in the same amount of time.  Should be easy for me.  Right?  Well... Not exactly.  This was supposed to be a full marathon that I pulled back from some weeks ago.  Tough training runs that where I ended up charging way too fast out of the gate only to find myself out of gas with miles of walking leading into this, had me convinced this might just be a disaster.  Let me add in a difficult work week that consisted of 56 hours of work, two road trips, three hotels, the cold I seem to have caught, missing the kids from being gone most of the week, and the text containing the pics of the fresh engraving on my Mom's final resting place all weighed heavily on my mind and shook my confidence to do anything super spectacular today.  In fact, I may have updated my Uber app in case a total body shut down happened and I needed to be done.

As I was stressed out about so many things out of my control, my accountability partner reminded me that a half is not about speed.  It is about consistency.  Settle in.  Go slow.  You got this.  Glad he thought so, that made one of us.  I suppose this right here was exactly why I have an accountability partner, even if in that moment I was quite certain he was full of crap.  Nonetheless, I would take off with the gun at a 12 minute pace.  I decided I was comfortable.  I could breathe, and I could probably just keep going at this pace.   Besides, I would find along the way I would have a lot of help.  Deanna, the person my foundation sponsors, who has lost 55 pounds would turn up at mile 3 and cheer me on from the sidelines.  At mile 6, I would see chalked into the pavement,"The Best Days of Your Life." Mile six, holding steady at a 12 min mile.  Not exactly record pace, but I was running with control.  Did this make it the best day of my life?  Not so sure, but I certainly was not ready to call Uber.

I had a dream so big and loud

I jumped so high I touched the clouds,

I stretched my hands out to the sky,

We danced with monsters through the night

- American Authors                                    

As I plodded along slow and steady,  I thought about it.  I did have a dream.  I would love to say that dream started five years ago when my fitness journey began.  I would love to say that it was this thunderous goal, I attacked with gusto.  The reality? I spent the better part of my life hoping to conquer obesity and never quite getting there.  So, five years ago, that little dream was more like a whisper, any louder than that in the early days, and my fear of failing, as I had so many other times, would have surely snuffed it out.

I'm never gonna look back

Woah, never gonna give it up'

No, just don't wake me now

As mile 6 turned into 7 and beyond, I would stick to my 12 minute pace, slow and controlled with the sudden realization that the small whisper of a dream from five years ago has now placed me in the midst of my fourth half marathon, an inconceivable notion for the better part of my adult life. The realization of the enormity of  said notion suddenly meant the pace did not matter.  Running with control and finishing mattered more.  It would appear that quiet  whisper of five years ago has now been cranked up to a more loud stubborn voice no longer interested in looking back or giving up.

I howled at the moon with friends,

And then the sun came crashing in,

But all the possibilities,

No limits just epiphanies  

Then there it was.  Mile 12.  I was tired  and was ready to be done when I looked up and saw a member of my tribe.  She had finished already but came back to push me through the last mile where I would ultimately finish and join the rest of my sharks for the obligatory bottle of prosecco.  We would talk about the course, laugh and raise a glass just like we always do.

Later, I would take the time to look at my running stats. I had even splits for the first time in my distance running career.  I had managed to run the whole half, except for a few 1-2 minute walking recoveries at the very end.  I had let the gravity of some of the steep declines in places on the trail work in my favor with paces as fast as 9'07, which allowed me to slow the inclines without walking, a whole new level of running control I had yet to achieve before today. 

Everything is looking up, everybody up now

This is gonna be the best day of my life

In the end, I suppose I have to admit that maybe my accountability partner had it right.  A successful distance run is more about control than about speed.  It makes me wonder how much wasted energy we spend charging way too fast at those things in our lives which are out of our control only to find defeat at the end.  Maybe the better answer is to harness what is within our control, take more calculated and controlled actions using our own abilities, and move slow and steady toward our own happiness.

 I will also say this.  To say running the half today was the best day of my life, as the song goes, would likely be a bit of a stretch, as certainly there are bigger life events that would claim "best day" status.  However, learning the satisfaction associated with the expenditure of energy on  the things I can control rather than tying up time with things I can't, has given me a satisfaction I had certainly been missing.  As to the newfound grief associated with seeing my mom's final resting place?  The playing of "Sweet Caroline" right on cue at the finish, as my closest friends sang along, certainly put that to rest for the moment and reminded me, the best is yet to come.