Life Lessons, Learned the Hard Way
This year taught me important life lessons: believe in yourself, be patient and persistent, forgive, empower yourself, and above all, never give up on yourself and your goals.How did I learn them? The hard way of course…
One year ago today, I almost gave up.
After a distressing phone call from a long-time sponsor (a beet juice company) telling me they weren’t going to support me anymore because they “didn’t know how to market me” or that I, as I interpreted it, “wasn’t good enough anymore, since becoming a mom,” I realized they didn’t believe in me. They didn’t believe that I still had potential or fire, that anyone would still bother paying attention to who I represented and what I had to say.
I let anxiety get the best of me, turning that week into my worst Christmas ever. I stressed over every penny. We didn’t get a Christmas tree or gifts; Santa didn’t come for Taylor, which made me feel like a bad mom, a failure.
I felt the wolves of depression gnawing at my heels again, trying to pull me back into the woods, after I had finally clawed my way out of the depths of postpartum depression six months prior.
Amidst doubt and frustration, I also felt mad. The people at the beet juice company knew I was my family’s sole income earner while Tim stayed at home with Taylor, searching for a good post-cancer career after our move to Colorado, yet they’d waited weeks before getting back to me about plans for the following year, giving me no heads-up things would suddenly change after 5 years of working together. I felt angry because I knew they had been off enjoying a company holiday party without the courtesy of letting me know I was getting canned while I still had time to find another sponsor before the end of the year.
With no holiday plans or travel, I worked out HARD that week, taking my frustration out on wind sprints and ball slams.
But then despite doing nearly nothing to celebrate, a bit of Christmas magic must’ve found its way into my sad, angry heart, and I suddenly realized the only person who has to believe in me….is me.
So I chose to believe in myself, and that was all that mattered.
The good news? American Ninja Warrior, CLIF Bar (a loyal longtime sponsor), and, eventually, two awesome new sponsors, PurePower, and MitoQ, all chose to believe in me, too, and had no problem finding ways to market this mama, from a feature during prime-time NBC to a full-page print article in the New Zealand Herald.
They say “when one door closes, another one opens”…
Today, exactly one year later, I am happy and grateful to report that I just had the exact opposite experience: the fantastic CMO of MitoQ just wrote to tell me that everyone there values my partnership, and they are requesting to expand it next year!
If I hadn’t been fired by the beet juice company, which had expanded into supplements, I wouldn’t have been able to partner with MitoQ, and I would not have this fantastic offer before me, which will allow me to train better next year.
And even though at the time it was a tough pill to swallow, I’m also grateful for the lessons I learned, making me a stronger, softer, more grateful and resilient person.
One reason I crawl through mud and flip heavy tires is to prepare myself for when life throws mud in my face and when roadblocks try to stop me from forward progress…
Racing helps me establish good habits, like thinking on my feet, and choosing to get gritty when things go wrong (as they often do, like when I got post-partum depression or when Tim got cancer).
Can you relate?
I’m feeling grateful after finishing the last race of the Spartan U.S. National Series in fourth, bumping my fifth place ranking to fourth. As someone who was still pregnant two years ago at this time, I feel encouraged by my progress, and I look forward to taking this momentum into the upcoming championship season!
My sponsors deserve a shout out for their support (Clif Bar, Pure Power, and MitoQ), and YOU deserve a “thank you,” too, for sticking with me throughout my journey!
The first Spartan National Series race was a two weeks later, and even though it was the only one in which I didn’t podium, I was only fourth by a few seconds, and even though the hills felt extra hard after mainly track training, my heart soared, knowing I could still fly on a track and race OCR well (plus qualify for Ninja Warrior Vegas finals a few weeks later, too, and pace my friend for 20 miles of her top-ten Western States finish – quite the neat variety of experiences around the country)!
I felt empowered, challenging myself in new ways, and juggling so many different skill sets, but the main thing is that I loved the experiences of both the activity/sport and the communities of people I got to be surrounded by.
I finished the OCR season strong and most importantly, happy. Doing three sports that year helped me avoid emotional burnout, which can be almost worst than physical burnout.
So if you’re trying to focus on doing your best as a runner (or a triathlete etc.), but a friend asks you to hike the Grand Canyon with them, I say go for it! Your mind, heart, and spirit will thank you. And who knows? A little break from sport-specific training might be best for performing well in your main sport anyway. Either way, I see it as a lovely version of “living life to the fullest,” and if you’re like me and you value experiences over winning, then I bet you won’t regret it. I sure don’t!
Tim didn’t “rob the cradle” – I robbed the rocking chair.
It’s true – Tim, the first person I ever asked out, totally turned me down.
There was something about him that intrigued me, with his kind eyes and calming presence…
I had worked up “liquid courage” by drinking a few cocktails at the gym we worked at’s Christmas party, and, after a casual conversation with him and a fellow trainer about if they ever wanted kids, I proceeded to text him a joke about having 8 babies with him.
I wanted to feel out if he had any interest in dating me, but I was too insecure to simply say, “Hey, I’d like to go on a date with you,” even after being coworkers for many months.
He texted back, “Haha,” with no other response, so the next day I gathered courage to prod a little more and hint that I was interested in dating him. He said no, because at 25 years old to his 40, I was “too young,” and that he “loved me like a sister.”
But for some reason, I did not take no for an answer. I prodded further, saying that age is just a number and that my parents are the same age difference.
I found out that his impression of me from a mutual friend was that I was a partier, so I had to explain that, yes, when I hang out with my friends from high school, I can play a mean game of Flip Cup, but there there’s much more to me than that.
And I got mad about the whole “loving me like a sister part” – I mean, he had only known me for a few months. “How could you love me like a sister?” I asked him, annoyed.
After only knowing him for a few months, I certainly didn’t love him as much as as I love my brothers, who have been some of my best friends for my entire life.
Somehow during a couple days of email exchanges, he saw enough of my serious, fired-up side to see me as more than just an average 25 year-old, and decided I had enough substance below the surface to agree to go on a date with me. We had a blast and the rest is history.
So this Valentine’s Day and everyday, remember to look rejection in the eye, and never take no for an answer if your heart tells you not to.
Oh, and Tim Sinnett, thanks for finally giving me a chance.
