How do you stay motivated? What’s your “why”? Why do you get out of bed and take on hard challenges? Why do you work to be your best? 🔥
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!
Three years ago, I was juggling big track meets with important Spartan Races, and competing on American Ninja Warrior, too. People told I was “unfocused,” but ya know what? I had just spent a couple months in Omaha watching Tim, my husband, undergo a 12-hour surgery to remove cancerous mucin and then be confined to the couch with tubes sticking out of him, so enjoying life to the max got bumped up even higher on my list after that.
So when people ask if they should be focusing only on their main sport (say, OCR) or if they can add in things they also love, like skiing, without feeling guilty, I tell them this story…
In 2016, after a year off the track in my new life as a pro obstacle course racer, I felt a yearning to jump back on to the oval that changed my life, giving me confidence as a teen and a scholarship to Georgetown…
So I signed up for the most competitive event I could find: the Stanford Invitational, knowing I could finish last, but not caring about that. I wanted to get pulled to a fast time by the country’s best, and cheer for/feel inspired by those pushing to make the U.S. Olympic Trials.
People told me I needed to focus, but I knew I needed to feed my spirit, too.
Though my 800 meter (half mile) best from before I switched to OCR was 2 min 7 secs, I figured breaking 2:10 after only a couple months of track work was a good goal. I gave it my all (hence the contorted face above) and finished in 2 min and 10.15 secs, just .16 secs short of goal time.
So I trained hard for three more weeks, joining the local professional track group’s workouts, barely able to keep up, and then raced at the next Stanford meet, and hit my goal with room to spare, 2:08.46! (It wasn’t record-breaking, and still 5 seconds off of the 2016 Olympic Trials qualifying time, but very satisfying all the same.)
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.
I forgot to charge my watch before today’s workout. In the past, I would’ve beaten myself up a bit for doing “dumb” things like that, the little voice in my head telling I don’t have my act together enough to be an Olympian or a world champion…
Today I chose another thought. 👍 I chose to take it as a sign to run not by pace or heart rate but by feel. So instead of trying to catch glances at my watch while my arms pumped quickly, and then doing pace and heart rate calculations in my mind throughout the workout to get it all “just right” – I cleared my mind, ran as hard as I felt like, enjoyed the cold wind on my face, soaked in the mountain view, and smiled through intense breaths at my fellow runners as they passed by. 😊
It reminded me of how, as a kid, running made me feel free – free from chores and a strict childhood, free to be me, wild hair flapping in the wind. 🏃♀️
As my workouts start to get more intense and I get ready to race in two weeks, I’m making myself a promise: this year, no matter how hard I’m working and how big my goals are, I vow to keep that child-like spirit alive, the spirit of sprinting out of the classroom at the sound of the recess bell, eyes twinkling, face smiling, ready to go play with my friends. ❤️
As I sit here to reflect on 2018 with a gash on my forehead from running into a tree branch last week, I wish I could say that was the dumbest thing I did all year…
But 2018 for me was full of mistakes, most of which I’m not exactly proud of, like how trying to squeeze in one last hard training session before leaving for American Ninja without warming up led me to get a calf strain and not only fall within a few seconds of competing on the show, but also be so caught up in healing my calf strain that week that I put off changing my oil when the light came on, only to have my car die on the way home from ANW competition, costing me thousands of dollars to replace our only car.
Not my brightest moment.
But amidst many more silly mistakes, there is a mistake I’m proud of: I moved from my hometown of Seattle to Colorado to fully pursue my athletic career, thinking that was the best place to train and get back into fighting shape within a year of having a baby.
It was a risk, it was tough to do with a newborn, and I ended up being wrong.
But in battling post-partum depression in a new town, I realized how important my hometown friends are to me, and, without my siblings around to check in on their little sis, I learned catch myself when anxious thoughts like, “What if my husband, Tim’s cancer comes back?” flooded my mind and change my mindset. I learned to “self-soothe” by prioritizing self-care, taking pressure off myself, and learning to “live in the moment” each time my baby smiles, giggles, or gives a hug, reminding myself that my family (an countless families around the world) have survived MUCH worse, and that life, in general, is grand, even when it feels relatively difficult.
That humbling experience now allows me to be there for others battling similar feelings, and for that I’m grateful. In fact, I’m launching a new business focused on helping women feel fit, energetic, and confident after giving birth!
My 2018 mistakes caused me to grow. And if my mistakes can help others, then they were totally worth it. ❤️
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.
As I sit here to reflect on 2018 with a gash on my forehead from running into a tree branch last week, I wish I could say that was the dumbest thing I did all year…
But 2018 for me was full of mistakes, most of which I’m not exactly proud of, like how trying to squeeze in one last hard training session before leaving for American Ninja without warming up led me to get a calf strain and not only fall within a few seconds of competing on the show, but also be so caught up in healing my calf strain that week that I put off changing my oil when the light came on, only to have my car die on the way home from ANW competition, costing me thousands of dollars to replace our only car.
Not my brightest moment.
But amidst many more silly mistakes, there is a mistake I’m proud of: I moved from my hometown of Seattle to Colorado to fully pursue my athletic career, thinking that was the best place to train and get back into fighting shape within a year of having a baby.
It was a risk, it was tough to do with a newborn, and I ended up being wrong.
But in battling post-partum depression in a new town, I realized how important my hometown friends are to me, and, without my siblings around to check in on their little sis, I learned catch myself when anxious thoughts like, “What if my husband, Tim’s cancer comes back?” flooded my mind and change my mindset. I learned to “self-soothe” by prioritizing self-care, taking pressure off myself, and learning to “live in the moment” each time my baby smiles, giggles, or gives a hug, reminding myself that my family (an countless families around the world) have survived MUCH worse, and that life, in general, is grand, even when it feels relatively difficult.
That humbling experience now allows me to be there for others battling similar feelings, and for that I’m grateful. In fact, I’m launching a new business focused on helping women feel fit, energetic, and confident after giving birth!
My 2018 mistakes caused me to grow. And if my mistakes can help others, then they were totally worth it. ❤️