Ode to Gammy

Grandmothers are very special people. Not only are they important by the virtue of the bloodline, but they are tasked with teaching grandchildren important life lessons. Today I’m going to share with you the lessons my grandmother, Gam, shared with me in hopes that they can serve you in life as well.

Following your heart and pursuing your passions

Gam grew up on a farm in Winnipeg, Manitoba Canada with 10 brothers and sisters. She was in the middle. At age 16, she and her sister flew the coop to warmer climates and opportunity in Los Angeles. She left with $5 in her pocket.

Imagine: 16 years old, red hair, full of life and adventure and seeing the world. Not the concrete world we’re used to; a world full of possibilities, orange groves and merchants. That’s where she met my grandfather. He whisked her quickly away to Hawaii and they began their lives together.

Even though I wasn’t there to witness it - her sense of adventure and willingness to try something new, her actions of boldly following her heart and pursuing a life of passion is one of the greatest gifts she shared with me. She dared following her heart.

Anything is possible.

Imagine again: a red head, full of life and a thirst for adventure. What she expressed to the Universe came back to her. She had married to George Magoon (my grandfather) whose family purchased a white sand beach called Maihaiula just north of the Kona Airport on the Big Island for $1,000. Together, Gam and my grandfather would take their children there and give them a unique experience.

Do you think that at 16, raised on a farm in Winnipeg she ever could have imagined raising her children in paradise? Yet it happened. Because anything is possible. She taught me to keep an open and positive perspective toward everything.

Life is an adventure

I grew up on the mainland in Eugene, OR. Yet every summer, my mom would take us back to Hawaii to visit with my grandmother. We would travel to Maihaiula for a month at a time. Without electricity or television, we had to entertain ourselves as best we could. Luckily Gam taught me how to fish.

Maihaiula is a half moon bay. On the south side, are some lava rocks that overhang the ocean. I remember holding my grandmother’s hand as she showed me how to navigate through the deep sand, through the coconut groves with falling fronds, avoiding the kiawe thorns, how to walk on aa and puu lava as well as avoid menehunes.

Armed with a bamboo pole, straw hat, butter knife to pick off creatures for bait and a bucket, my grandmother showed me the best fishing hole. I’d plop my line into the water and within seconds bring up tropical fish. She taught me which fish were good to eat and which ones were too boney and how to unhook them and release them back.

Eventually I got bold enough to fish on my own. My grandmother had taught me how to navigate and deal with obstacles and how to fish. And in her gentle way, I understood what she taught me would serve as metaphor with how to deal with life. It should always be treated as an adventure.

Tackling whatever life may throw at you.

Eventually I graduated from my bamboo pole to a fishing rod. I started casting right in front of the house and quickly learned there are good and not so good places to fish. My line snagged, but I could feel a wiggle.

After 20 minutes, Gam came to check on me. She tried untangling the line as well but whatever I had caught was stubborn. Eventually, slowly, I brought in an electric eel and shrieked in horror. Gam didn’t bat an eye. Instead she grabbed the nearest rock and started bashing the head of the eel. “Your Auntie Denny (bash) LOVES (bash) eel. (BASH BASH BASH) She’ll eat it!”

That is one of my fondest memories of Gam. She taught me that no matter what life throws at you or you snag on your fishing rod, you can bash it with a rock and feed it to your auntie.

I am so thankful for my grandmother, Gam. She taught me to following my heart and pursuing my passions, anything is possible, life is an adventure and that I can tackle whatever life may throw at me.

Last week, Gam passed away at 97 years old. She lived an amazing life and was loved by all who knew her. And though her physical presence passed, her legacy continues on in me, in my siblings, cousins, mom, aunt and uncle and everyone else who had the good fortune of meeting her.

So when you find you have an opportunity to share a life lesson with someone, consider the impact you may have on that young persons life. Pass your legacy on. And remember, grandmothers are very special people. And Gam was no exception.

Chapter Two - The First Month.

What you see before you is a book in the makings. I'm going back, reviewing my posts in small chunks. Right now I'm focusing on the first month after Ryan's death.

You would think poking around in the past would stir up all sorts of grief demons. And it does. But underneath it all and only a few days into his passing was a current of acceptance. I knew right away that was the choice I wanted to make. I didn't want to play the victim. 

"Being angry isn't going to change anything."

"I was sad thinking about not bring able to share this with him - no one to come home to and get a big enormous kiss and hug and celebratory beer with. But as night wore on, I'm learning to be okay with that. Or more like get used to it."

So many things change over time. Getting used to Ryan not being here, and learning to love again. I get a big enormous kiss and hugs from Benjamin now. He fills me up in his own, authentic and beautiful way. I am so lucky. I also appreciate all of the lessons I've learned despite the hardship: wisdom, acceptance, limitless possibilities, true love, to name a few. 

And now... a little sample of what I'm working on today....

I want to wake up from this nightmare.

That’s all I could say or think at first. That everything I experienced was surreal and hopefully a figment of my imagination. My heart, my head and my soul would never be the same. Sure my heart would continue beating and my lungs still gathering air. But when you loose someone, someone who is as close as Ryan was, it feels like you get lost in an undertow. Swirling around, practically drowning and you become uncertain which direction is up.

I started mooning people. (Who moons people!? Seriously!) My inhibitions were down and my reasoning thrown out the door. I would laugh hysterically and cry, all at once. My sleep irregular, I often woke up at 3 am, unable to fall back asleep. The easiest thing to do was to think about Ryan. I let memories we share fill the blank void. I didn’t want to be alone in my house at first, and instead opted to stay at my mom’s house. 

Being home alone meant contending with the ghosts. And facing the reality sooner than later that I had to untangle the life I knew in order to make room for a new one. Friends started asking, why don’t you throw yourself back into training? Why don’t you race at Nationals in a month? Why aren’t you over it?

I don’t know if anyone is capable of loosing their mate and then acting as if everything is normal. It’s not. And pretending that it is would only set me back.

It didn't prevent me from trying to act normal. I surrounded myself with friends and things to do. During the day, I had no trouble hanging out with friends and keeping my mind occupied. But whenever I would go home, emotionally drained from having to pretend I was ok, tears would stream down the minute I closed my front door. My pillow and sheets would be covered in snot come morning. I missed Ryan and felt hollow without him there.

Falling for my strong front, people started relying on me emotionally. It had only been 10 days since Ryan passed. I felt incapable of shouldering anyone else’s emotions and ended up secluding myself. My smile, although easy to come despite the tragedy, was a mask for how bad I hurt inside. I wished Ryan were around so I could vent to him. He always had a way of listening to me and by doing so would help solve the problem. But he wasn’t around anymore and I needed to find the careful balance between being social and taking care of myself. Sometimes I needed to just feel the ache.

Checking in from the Couch

My skin has a nice red lobster glow to it. Or at least, it does where my skin was exposed this past week. Hello biking tan lines! It's been a few months.

Mackenzie, Lisa and I with a Tijuana in the background.

My legs sting from both the extra UV and from the 5,000 feet of climbing from today. It's the last day of a mini-training camp for just the para-pilots held at the Olympic Training Center in Chula Vista. We were tested in four different ways - a RAMP test, Lactate Blood test, Otay Lakes Time Trial and the queen of all stages - Honey Springs Hill Climb. Not to mention a bunch of endurance miles thrown into the mix through the surrounding hills.

It's been confirmed - I did not become a better climber over the off season. Darn it! However, the cumulative climbing from moving to Colorado and being in Mallorca this last summer is improving my climbing ability. And that's all this girl could ask for. I'm building muscle memory of how to suffer on longer climbs and what my pace is.

I love this sport.

Seriously, where else do you get a chance to work on your weaknesses day after day, climb after climb? My fellow pilots pummeled and encouraged me. We even went to dinner blind folded one night to experience what it's like to eat blind. Piercing tomatoes with a fork is challenging! And eating fruit salad with Craig switching out my bowl without me knowing it, even harder. That rascal.

What's next? Time will tell. I am excited at the prospect and will continue training my bootie off. I've got some more tan lines to earn. And more town sprint signs to win.

Pilot Parallels

I'm getting a crash course in para-cycling piloting.

It started with a camp in January. Seven straight days on the bike with Rachael on a bike that fit me fairly well. I tried really hard at first to adapt to this new role. To mold myself to the bike and stoker, verbally encouraging us to go faster up hills. And found out, the hard way, that willing and trying can only get you so far. No, no. That kind of work has to be accomplished. You simply have to do it. Sticking to your training plan, getting stronger every day, feeding your body the proper nutrition to perform well, sleeping soundly at night - it all counts in the big picture of riding well.

And it wasn't until after I cracked from getting sick, cracked from trying so hard it ran my ragged, that I finally got it. We had a breakthrough on the bike. Simple is best. One simple word: more. It transformed how we worked together on the bike. It brought the best out of both of us.

Next and most recently - a camp last week. I was asked a week prior if I would be interested in piloting a new up and comer. Absolutely! Six days straight on the bike with Shawn Cheshire, who is new to cycling and being blind. A traumatic brain injury 9 months prior left her 100% blind. We had to work harder to find common ground. She's new to cycling, I'm new to being around someone who is 100% blind. (Rachael could make out shapes and forms and was fairly independent.) First things first - we walked around the dorm room so she could feel where things were so she could memorize their position.

"If you really want to mess with me, just move my things," she joked.

Thankfully the week went well so I didn't have to go to such drastic measures.

Curbs, shrubs, and obstacles we so take for granted of being able to see. I had to look at things in a new light - is this going to trip Shawn? She carries a cane, but built enough trust with me, she would leave it in the dorm room. I was totally responsible for her well being. Thankfully she trusted me on the bike. We did have our moments - like when she constantly compared me to the other well practiced male pilots. Like how long they've been piloting, the way they felt compared to the way I feel.

I found myself having a hard time living up to their piloting.

Eventually we had a breaking point. It was unexpected, as all breaking points are. Picture this: standing starts on a tandem. I know how these feel on a single bike but when you add another rider on the back who doesn't know what they feel like, well, things were dicey. Our first attempt rocked the bike so hard I thought I might dump us. When I leaned forward to accelerate, she stood straight up making the back of the bike sway dramatically from side to side.

"I've never felt that before! That movement has never happened with another pilot!"

We asked Larry, the other blind athlete, to describe what standing starts felt like to Shawn. It's one thing to hear what it's supposed to feel like. It's another to actually feel it.

I let out an audible sigh.

"Jen, why are you frustrated with me?" she asked.

"Because this is new to me too. But you have to be open to us figuring it out together. We'll get it, it just takes practice."

Our next start was light years better. A major breakthrough. The frustration was checked at the starting gate. Trust regained and re-established. We started to synch up and push each other more and more. She stopped comparing me to other pilots and instead adopted me as her pilot. I realized that I needed to trust her as well. She is now my stoker.

By week's end Shawn told someone who jokingly teased me, "I can't have you talking about my pilot like that."

I know she felt the smile that spread across my face. I didn't have to tell her.

From Kayak Morning by Roger Rosenblatt

"You have to understand," she said. "Grief lasts forever."

"Like death," I said.

"Like death. Except death is someone else's condition, grief is all yours."

"I feel worse now than I did shortly after she died."

"And you'll feel even worse next year. And worse the year after that, unless you find a way to transform your grief."

"We're back to that."

"We've never left it," she said. "Grief comes to you all at once, so you think it will be over all at once. But it is your guest for a lifetime."

"How should I treat this guest? This unwelcome, uninvited guest?"

"Think of the one who sent it to you," she said.


I help people who want to transform their grief. If you or someone you know is going through a difficult time, trying to make sense in a senseless world, trying to see the opportunity now available for you, please contact me at jennifer@sharp-coaching.com.

Leaping Into Lovers Lane: Eb and Flow

“Why is she so happy, mom?” A friend’s son asked after hearing that I had lost my husband and then had the nerve to race a cyclocross race in the pouring rain. I was letting out squeals, more than anything out the absurdity of being a new widow and daring to laugh. Especially at myself.

“I’m a widow! Har, har!”

I wasn’t acting like a widow should. Widows should be dressed in black, barely able to move due to their grief. They should stay home and shut out the outside world. They have puffy eyes and sad faces. And mostly, widows are old.

I knew I wasn’t like most widows. I knew I had a choice. And my choice was to get on my bike and feel alive. I wanted to feel my heartbeat so it would give me a brief break. I wanted to forget, if just for a moment, that my heart had a big gapping hole in it.

My heart pounding, body and bike barely cooperating in the mud fest surrounding Marymoor park. My dismounts were comical. I laughed mainly because I had seen so many friends fluidly demonstrate their prowess of getting off their bikes before they hit the barriers. I flailed around, missing the dismount zone, often dumping the bike and bumping my shin. The anxiety would build, a half lap before the obstacle and I’d start laughing. To most I must have sounded like a lunatic.

Yet that comic relief, that ability to laugh at myself was just what I needed. It released some of the grief pressure. A pressure that kept me huddled under the covers at night, wiping my snotty nose all over my sheets and pillow. The pressure that dulled my senses into one feeling: utter devastation. Feeling this emotion scared me. I didn’t want anyone else to know it’s pain.

So instead, I learned to keep my grief to myself. To express it late at night, with Makiah as my witness. I didn’t want to scare people away. I didn’t want to scare myself. Neither my friends nor I knew what to say. How does one handle grief, let alone someone else’s? How do you comfort someone who loses their partner?

I wanted to function back in society as quickly as possible. I didn’t want to have awkward conversations with acquaintances or nimbly navigate unchartered waters. So instead, I laughed like a manic while riding a knobby tired bike in the pouring rain over bumpy grass and off camber courses. I knew I wasn’t acting normal but it felt good.

I wanted to separate the dark grief periods from lighter moments. I gave myself permission to laugh. I gave myself permission to cry. I also gave myself permission, despite my people pleaser tendency,  to turn down social invitations. Yet I still felt like someone was wrong with me and was disappointed when I couldn’t rise to the occasion. When I couldn’t buck up and put on a happy face. But my friends understood. Or at least it didn’t seem to bother them. That widow card has trumping power.

Leaping Into Lovers Lane - A Break.

(Hey All - I did it. I hired a writing coach. She's going to help me get my book published. I've been sorting through pieces and came across this one. I speaks volumes to why I want to get my story out there - to help other people dealing with grief. If you or someone you know is dealing with grief and needs someone to talk to - please send them my contact information. Enjoy.)

I suppose I needed the break, though at the time it didn’t feel like I needed one.  I suppose it was a break from writing, to refocus and figure out my next steps. To live my life and really appreciate things. To experience and gain more wisdom, to follow my heart and do things that I wanted to do.

I do think there’s something to be said about having goals. Of making them a reality and letting the work toward them get you into some sort of routine. And I’ve been feeling the need to revisit a deadline for this book.

When Ryan died, the worst thing that could happen became my reality. I went into shock immediately, floating as though it were a dream. But he didn’t come home. He didn’t suddenly appear out of the blue, unless it was in my dreams. He didn’t call. He died. Everything about his physical sense vanished. And I was left hollow, a mere fraction of the person I was before.

Suddenly very simple tasks become monumental. Listening to music for the first time, going places we used to go together for the first time – my life was forever altered. And that took a lot of getting used to.

Some how I knew early on in the grieving process that I would make the most of it. Doing so was in my nature. I couldn’t just wallow in my own self pity, letting sadness and sorrow rule my existence. No, I had the choice to look at it differently. I immediately adopted the “to know love is better than not at all” attitude and decided to take steps toward healing. Thankfully I had good friends to help me through. We spent week nights together, yet I would always return to the house and cry myself to sleep. It was nice to have diversions – to go out and eat well. But I would come home, reminded again of my loss and break down.

I knew getting regular exercise would get me through. And thankfully I had a training program to follow. And although it wasn’t the best and most focused work (in retrospect, how could it be?), I still went through the motions. I still showed up every day ready to get my heart pounding to feel alive, to feel normal, to escape the loss if only for a few hours.

Except I was still coming back home, home to the ghosts. Home to the reminders. Home to the empty house and ashes sitting on the mantel. Ryan’s absence encompassed me. No matter what I tried, it was always there. That dull ache of missing someone so badly you lose it. A song comes on the radio, a smell, a taste, a feeling and suddenly you’re a puddle of emotions and tears. Hoping no one will see you this weak, that broken. Because I knew, deep down I needed to feel this way. And as awful as it felt at the time, I needed to trudge through it. I needed to feel it, to get to the very bottom in order to heal. To form a base of sadness, of grief so that one day I could feel happiness and love again.

I would never wish this kind of sadness upon anyone. But I do wish upon everyone a wakening up. An enlightenment of sorts. A realization that despite life’s ups and downs, you can and will come out on the other side stronger and a better person. That you can choose to be this way and when you do, when you take happiness and empowerment into your own hands, the world opens up to you. You see things in a new light. You understand that doing what you want to do and striving toward that is so important.

Sure, I still get sad. There are nights when I cry myself to sleep. They are getting further and further between bouts, but they still happen. And I let them. I cry deeply, and sob to the point of where my sweet dogs check on me to make sure I’m okay. And once I’ve cried enough to water the lawn, I breath in deeply and know that Ryan’s there. He’ll always be there.

Banyan

Banyan Trees: a place of gathering providing shelter and shade. A place for communion. Their roots are in reverse - connecting to the ground from their mighty branches.

Thinking about the banyan trees in Hawaii grounds me. There are several within walking distance of my grandmother's house on O'ahu. Some in Judd Forest, a lush tropical jungle behind her house, some down the street on the carefully kept grounds at Queen Emma's summer palace.

When I need to feel rooted, connected and at peace, I imagine the smooth bark and Earthy smell - housing an entire eco system. I breath in its power, feel its strength and sink in. It's nice to know that where ever I am, what ever I'm doing, I can connect to my inner Banyan and find peace.

What moves you? When do you feel connected? What places can you go where you feel safe and connected?

Post Camp

Oye. The legs are hurtin' for certain right now. We just completed a long morning ride (3 1/2 hours) with over 3400 feet of elevation gain. The majority of which was done up a little climb called Honey Springs, almost in Mexico. Oye.

I got me a serious and motivated stoker! Together we crushed the previous time I set with Rachael by 5 minutes. Drooling down my face the last 1/4 mile and grunting made that effort that much harder. Not to mention I have a stoker (Shawn Cheshire) who is giving this everything she has and then some. Two strong women on a tandem. A force to be reckoned with.

I'm getting lots of time as a pilot and strengthening my skill set (not to mention the quads) in hopes of making it to the Paralympic Games in Rio 2016. This week provided lots of encouragement, lots of learning and above all, teamwork.

My body is tired. A good tired. One that feels so good. I can only equate it to after a long day of skiing, where you can't stand a moment longer.

Round 2: Chula Vista OTC Para Camp

It's soooo nice to be back in Chula Vista, CA at the Olympic Training Center, this time piloting for a talent ID camp. It's sunny and warm, which makes up for the testing protocols we just went through. 75! I'll take it! (It was snowing yesterday when I left Colorado.)

On tap for today: Testing. Ouchie.

The test we did today was new. It's a standard protocol that's going to be used across the board to identify potential national and international levels of para-cyclists. Completed on a stationary SRM bike and hooked up to a computer, we start at 50 watts and maintain 75 rpm (designed to be doable by all 12 of the para classifications), and increases every minute by 25 watts, until failure.

What it's measuring is VO2 Max and a better way of testing a wide range of athletes and different fitness levels. (As compared to the steady state RAMP test we did last month, which increased wattage by 25 watts every 3 minutes. Sounds great, right? It's peachy. (I just puked a little bit in the back of my mouth thinking about the test.) But really, when they're looking to identify the next talent group of athletes, the VO2 Max test ramps up quickly and shows the potential of different athletes, verses how fit they are to begin with.)

If you want to hang out with an inspiring group of people, sign yourself up for a para-camp. It's pretty awesome.

Personally, I'm seeing an improvement since my last test about a month ago. Yay! Those 20 hour training weeks are paying off...

Tomorrow we have a "flat" time trial out Otay Lakes road. It's roughly 12 miles and should be a good test to see how we stack up next to other female tandems. At least, what Craig has on record.

My stoker is Shawn Cheshire and she's super new to the sport and improving leaps and bounds every day. She's also relatively new to being blind and learning to integrate competitive sports into daily living. She's falling into the pro-cyclist lifestyle pretty easily. It's easy to do at the training center. You get really good at training hard and really, really good at doing nothing. Preferably from a horizontal position.

Well, the cafeteria calls. Yum. And I don't have to do the dishes. :) More tales from the tandem to come...

Finding Clarity

There once was a girl who loved to pretend she knew what she wanted to be when she grew up. She liked trying on other people's professions and couldn't quite put her finger on one that resonated with her. She noticed how pleased people were when she tried their professions on for size. But it lead her into trap - a trap of pleasing other people. She couldn't figure out for the longest time why she wasn't able to find something that made her heart sing.

And that's when she discovered she was listening to other people's hearts long before her own. She had been entranced by their singing hearts. She went on a journey to try and find somewhere she could listen to her own beating heart. Alone and high up in the mountains, out in the deep blue ocean, along the wide open plains. She practiced getting in touch with who she really was and what her heart had to say.

She kept searching and searching for something that filled her up. Something that aligned with her unique gifts and talents. Something that felt like a natural part of her. She became more aware and appreciative of who she was. But the more she desperately tried searching for Clarity, the harder the path felt.

Then one day, Clarity just showed up. The girl hadn't gone anywhere special. She wasn't in the mountains, out at sea or in a meadow. She was around a couple of people in a coffee shop. It was there she realized that when she had finally given up and trusted that if Clarity was going to show up she will.  And she did!

Clarity wasn't how the girl pictured or imagined her - in fact, Clarity was a mirror reflection of herself. It was in that quiet moment, the one where trying is forgotten and acceptance of the now this wonderful being appeared.

Sometimes we have to go to quiet places in our mind to find our own Clarity.

A Community Full of Possibilities

When Ryan died, I was on a mission to find a new community. One that I felt at home with. One that didn’t look at grief as a problem to be solved, a series of steps to be taken as a means to move through it. I wanted a real connection. I wanted to feel and embrace grief and look at grief as a gift. One filled with possibilities and experience. One that recognized the trauma but also gave light. I felt alone in my quest but strong in my resolve.

I remember a friend’s child asked, “Why does she seem so happy, mom?”

As hard as it was to loose Ryan, I knew I had a choice. I had a choice of how grief showed up for me and how I wanted to view it. I could shrivel up and die myself. I could view it as a problem, one that needed to be solved. Or I could choose to live life to the fullest and share my gift with my community.

I went into hunting mode. I craved answers. The University of Washington bookstore had many books on grief. Some of which have revolutionized how our culture addresses death and dying. In many ways, they focused on death as a problem to overcome. The conversation continued in a comfortable way, explaining how one deals with trauma. This new issue you are facing in your life is a problem and lucky for you, we have many books on how to solve it. I picked up book after book, read the book insert and put them back.

Our culture is obsessed with problems. And problem solving. Media, linguistics, judgements are all based on problems. We are bombarded the way our community has too many problems. The problem with our leaders, the problem with society, the problem with problems, death as a problem.

I grew frustrated, quickly. I carefully searched for possibilities and gifts inside of books and groups that I could resonate with. Only a handful of books put grief as a gift into perspective. I wanted more. I wanted the majority of books to have that insight. I didn’t give up, reading as many books as I could get my hands on. I talked to as many widows as I could. I couldn’t quite put my finger on why we viewed grief so differently. And then tonight, I had an AHA moment.

We need a paradigm shift toward death. It’s the driving force behind my book and why I am writing Leaping Into Lovers Lane.

I never viewed Ryan’s death as a problem or an issue to be dealt with. I didn’t get angry. I was rocked to my core and even in my darkest days, I knew light was a possibility. That I was experiencing this for a reason. A grand plan in the Universe. One that may not make sense at the time, and feel like a heavy toll to pay, but one that I accepted. One that I owned. One that I viewed as an amazing gift.

If it were up to me, I would eliminate “problem” from the dictionary. Instead I would replace it with possibilities and gifts. Just think of a world without problems. One that instead focused on possibilities. One that was so full of light that our communities grew stronger. We supported and celebrated one another for our amazing talents and abilities.

I’m beginning a conversation with you, my community. That’s where it starts. Conversations gain momentum and then birth a new light. A new consciousness. A new way of thinking and a way to show up in the world.

Leadership starts in small groups. It moves slowly, gaining momentum and creating sustainable change. In you, in me, in everyone we surround ourselves with. I challenge you to eliminate problem from your vocabulary. Use possibilities instead. Notice what shows up for you in the world. When you find yourself slipping into that old verbiage, stop and reframe.

I know that changing your perspective, one that you may not even be aware of, will shift things in your world. It shifted mine.

Like

I'm paralyzed by grief. This time it's for my grandmother. She's 96 and had a stroke this morning. Or at least that's when they noticed she stopped talking. If my gut serves me right, that's why I woke up in the middle of the night last night. Panic stricken. Unable to shake off a feeling.

We're in a holding pattern now. Waiting to hear news, with heavy hearts. And lots of tears.

Why EVERYONE Needs a Coach.

Life coaching changed my life. It opened me to possibilities and realities that I thought were only daydreams. Things that seemed impossibly distant. Things I wanted to become reality but I didn't know where to start.

Coaching changed everything.

It opened me up to new perspectives, new ways of thinking about the same old problems and issues. It created space and trust to allow myself some wiggle room and shed the layers of self-doubt. It allowed me to recognize when my lack of confidence no longer served me and how to to trust myself and step into me. It gave me confidence in relief to my problems.

Realizing your power is a gift. We all have it.

Coaching is a tool that can help you get there. It creates connection, trust, and strength. Coaching is having a support crew that helps you achieve whatever it is you want in life. To feel fulfilled. To be happy. To take the next step. To get unstuck.

It's time you love yourself. It's time to believe in your dreams. It's time to honor yourself and go from telling a story to becoming. It's time you contact me about coaching.

Discover what the power of coaching holds for you. Together we will navigate the waters. I will hold space for you, allowing you to show your true self. Infinite possibilities await.

I look forward to serving you,

Jennifer Triplett
Co-Active Coach

BIG THINGS.

I have a strong intuition. It serves me well when I meet new people or visit new places. It's an internal compass and comes in handy in foreign places. It keeps me grounded and connected to my true self. And it sheds light on certain situations that are otherwise confusing and baffling.

Take moving to Colorado for instance. During my first visit as a kid to the Rocky Mountains I fell deeply in love. I wrote about living here and eventually (15+ years later) it became reality. Now I wonder why I didn't make the move sooner. But I had to learn to trust my intuition. Something that takes time and practice.

My intuition serves me well in racing. I know when the move is going up the road. I can sense it in my gut - connecting with the energy building and the momentum rising. Careful practice of intuition and timing my sprint has won me several races. It's also saved me from serious crashes (knock on wood). It's almost as though my inner intuition guides me away from danger.

I remember back when Ryan and I had this massive fight. I started to walk away from him, I was so mad. And I stopped dead in my tracks and thought, he's not going to be around forever. We reconciled that night and never went to bed without making up first.

Those are just the awake intuitions. They get stronger when I sleep. My dreams are very vivid and telling of what's happening in the world. And I promise, if I have a dream about you, I will most certainly call and check up on you.

Lately, I've had a strong sense that something big is going to happen in my life. I'm not sure what yet, but my gut is telling me it's going to be huge. I'm playing around with what that means in different areas in my life and it's opening doors. And don't worry - I'll let you guys in on the secret once the message reveals itself.

For the Children

Last week I went to a Colorado Springs Entrepreneurs meet up. They meet once a month and I decided since I'm building my own coaching business, I certainly qualify. We met at a library on the East side of town and I wasn't sure what to expect.

The group was mainly men and full of engineers. The topic of the night: an invention that could change the world. Seriously. The product: an aftermarket add on to any engine that will increase fuel efficiency, minimize carbon footprints and be a stepping stone as the motorized world shifts to hydrogen. For some vehicles, it increases fuel economy over 150%.

The inventor has been working on this project for 30 years. http://h2hypod.com

So why hasn't it been picked up by an investor? Don't they see the ultimate potential and market that it could over take? Why are people so resistant to change?

We listened to the product details, the engineering specifics and multiple reasons why it hasn't hit the market yet. The story is impressive - his passion of hydrogen is marred with setbacks. The product has the ability to change the world. Setbacks plague him throughout the development of his product, his co-worker dies, he is stranded in Europe without a penny and ends up courting the Russian Federation who are ready to invest, he breaks his back. He wins awards from Germany in 2008 as the best patent invention yet cannot break through to the right market. He's fluent and ultra knowledgable in his subject, but has difficulty finding the right investors. This labor of love, the time invested, and yet it's not getting picked up.

Three hours this meeting went on. Three hours we went round and round about the details. Three hours we heard about the problems and issues and past setbacks.

More background - he's approached numerous groups from credible sources and... what happens? Something isn't commuting. Where's the disconnect?

Finally, my non-engineer self interrupts. I have a question, what's your motivation? I mean are you in this for the money, the fame? Or is it for the environment?

"I'm doing it for the children."

Clear as day. No round and round detail explanation. What about approaching investors that align with your values and pure intention? Instead of approaching them with dollar signs and how many billions of dollars you could make them, approach them openly and honestly. At least that's my thought.

If you doing it for the children, then do it.

Going from left brain to right.

How open to learning are you? Do you take time each day to allow for space and time? To sit back and feel grounded, to connect with your inner self?

"In an age where our attentions are stretched to the limit and then some...." How often I've heard those type of sentences state we're short on time and pulled in a million directions to get things done. It's easy to be in a state of panic each day if you let your attention be pulled. And realistically, how can it not? It takes a conscious effort and choice to stop, pause and really reflect why we're here. What our purpose is and how we're living each day to honor those choices.

I admit, even earlier this morning I was in a whirlwind of panic. Building a new business from the ground up is overwhelming, scary and exhilarating. I have my moments when I wonder why I'm doing this. Why did I choose this path? It's hard and I have to put in a lot of intention and effort to make it happen. It would be easy to go back to a regular paying job with a steady paycheck. One where I clock in and wait for my time to pass so I can get back to the things I love. Wait a minute, I think I'm onto something....

Clock in and wait for time to pass so I can get back to the things I love.

How is that honoring living in the now?

Even when I was working at the Market, my head and heart wasn't there. I knew I was compromising what I was put on this planet to do. To help others. To inspire them to live the life of their dreams. And if I'm going to talk, I better do the walk. Living in the now is a choice.

My last Market shift was just before Christmas. I'm all in now. I'm putting in the time, bringing my true authentic self to the table every day. And I wake up with an enormous smile on my face and joy in my heart, knowing what I'm doing is making a difference. That I'm aligning my life with my passion and know deep down that you can achieve anything you put your mind and heart to.

Today I was reminded that sometimes though, even the entrepreneur needs some inspiration. Sometimes you need to tap back into that right creative brain space that gets buried when you're left brain is trying to make things work. Or rather, forcing them to work. The moment I stood back, took pause and connected with my inner purpose - peace washed over me. That's it! That's why I'm doing this! To make the world a better place and connecting community through conversation.

So if you find yourself in a whirlwind of left brain activity, stop. Go to your favorite spot in your mind and feel the connection to the Universe. Know that you're doing your best and that you are connected in so many ways. Shed yourself of judgement and comparison, bring your true self and everything is going to be amazing.

On the horizon

I've been home a solid week now and was just starting to get used to the idea of being home for about a month before traveling again. Since October, I've made 4 trips to LA, one to Calgary, one to Seattle, one to Indiana, and back to Chula Vista. Honestly, it feels like I haven't been home more than a week at a time before heading off again. Such is the life of an aspiring coach and para-cycling pilot!

It's nice to sleep in my own bed, especially next to my baby. His travels have taken him to Scotland, Mexico, LA, back to Mexico next week and then Belarus for Worlds.

And guess what came into my inbox today? An invitation back to Chula Vista to do some more piloting for another stoker. Yay! Hello, National Team pipeline.

And in the meantime, I'm working with some fellow coaches to get a new and exciting project off the ground. Stay tuned for the details... but it's going to be BIG!

It's thrilling to combine passion and work together to make a living.

Passionate Work

Flying home over the Rocky Mountains while the sunsets put an enormous smile on my face. This is home now. These purple mountains covered in white snow. Looking down from 30,000 feet they seem small, but have so much unexplored detail. Places I want to play. Places I want to make more time for in my life. My smile is part appreciation, part bliss.

I did it. I finished the core curriculum from the Coaches Training Institute. Over 104 hours spent in a LA hotel conference room spread over 4 months and it's finally done. Hot damn, I'm done traveling for work! At least for a little while.

So many things have opened up. Conversations started, realizations gathered, snapshots in time framed. I must have been beaming. For the next thing I know, a gentleman sits down in the empty seat next to me boarding a flight to Phoenix to start his new work position. And I ask, "do you like your work?"

"It's alright I suppose. There are things I like and things I don't."

"Are you passionate about your work?"

"No."

"If you could be working with your passion, what would that look like?"

"Whoa, that's a deep question for an airport. I haven't ever allowed myself to think of it that way. I suppose if I had to think about it, I've always been interested in Saturday Night Live. And I could picture myself writing comedy skits for them. What about you? If you could work your passion, what would it be? Wait, I know. You like asking random strangers what their passionate work looks like."

(It didn't strike me at first his humorous stab at writing a skit. I chuckle now.)

"I'm actually living it. I live my passion everyday."

"What is it that you do?"

A big smile spreads. I answer him honestly. And for once in my life, don't wish it any different. "I write, I cycle, I coach, I public speak, I am an entrepreneur, and I love having an impact in the world."

"Wow. You don't hear that every day. I better catch my flight."

Poor guy, never stood a chance. He just witnessed my boldness unleashed after a weekend of transformation and witnessing others changing. It's oozing out of my pores.

The Pilot Program

I am her eyes and she is my stoker. Both reliant on one another, both committed to overcoming obstacles both on and off the bike. Both aligned toward one goal and one goal only: going as fast as humanly possible on a tandem bike.

On our own, we are accomplished both on and off the bike. She's the first legally blind person to complete the Iditarod, a 1,049+ mile race across Alaska. She's been on the para-cycling team for the past couple of years, showing massive potential that she has what it takes to earn to compete at the international level. She lives in Bend, Oregon completely off the grid and tends to over 100 dogs at her families dog mushing company. Her regular pilot couldn't make the camp, so I got to substitute in.

 

 

My story began as a pioneer in the first women's boxing world championship, having tragedy strike when I lost my husband to a rock climbing accident in 2008, and then reinventing myself in wonderful Colorado and loving once again. I moved to Colorado Springs in August 2011 and have embraced the high altitude, dry climate and athlete lifestyle. I love new challenges.

I think it's safe to say we're both driven and we both enjoy bucking the status quo. We both believe the only thing that can limit you is not dreaming big enough.

I first met Rachael in a small dorm room at the Chula Vista, California this past week at the Olympic Training Center. I had so many questions for her (how did she complete the Iditarod? What's the severity of her blindness? What was it like growing up?) and immediately liked her. She openly answered my barrage of questions and I answered hers. It's a good thing we got along as we were paired up on a tandem with over 20 hours of training for the week for the Para-Cycling National Team Camp. Right from the start we had to establish a baseline level of trust and synchronicity. Our combined weight of bodies and equipment easily topped 320 pounds and the surrounding hills of the training center are large. There's only one way we could conquer any defiance of gravity: team work.

As it turns out, it's not individual accomplishments or power to weight ratio that set a tandem team apart from the other. Sure it helps that both people have a level of fitness, excellent balance and strong core. But what really sets a tandem team apart is as simple as the combined effort. The synching of power, communication and sheer grit. In order to get the most out of each other, we both had to be 100% committed. And I had to learn how to communicate clearly, concisely and accurately.

"We're almost to the top." Such an ambiguous statement does nothing for how much more power she needs to contribute to get to the top of a hill. It says nothing about the length or duration of the effort.

The first full day on the bike I sounded like a head cheer leader. In retrospect, I'm not sure who I was saying it for. "Push harder. Champions are made a day at a time. Come one Rachael, dig! Rio is coming fast. Let's GO! Come on!" Eventually she commented back, "Coming!!!" I finally figured out I needed to shut up. It's nothing personal. And as it turns out, the quieter I was, the more synched up we became. I could hear her breathing, I could tune into my intuitive sense more. When I asked for "more" she gave me more.

At first I was trying to force things. I was trying to will us up hills and my inner cheerer bubbled out. By the end of the week after getting a cold and feeling the effects of fatigue, I stopped wasting any energy than was absolutely necessary. "Bump," to which she'd raise her rump off the saddle. "More," to which she'd supply more power. "Up," meant stand up and sprint. That's it. We started pulling away from the group. We won 2 out of 3 sprints. We found our combined climbing legs. Hot damn, we were synched!

We climbed the Honey Stinger time trial course the last day of camp, besting our previous time with fresh legs and a serious headwind. I pushed Rachael to her limit as she could barely walk when we got to the top. And she puked. Last one, best one.

That night we were pretty excited and sad to conclude the camp. We both gained a lot - not only fitness and the realization that less is more, but also a friendship. I look forward to seeing her again in the future. And even if we don't get to pair up on a tandem bike again this year, I look forward to racing next to her with another stoker.

Being with Gold

Sometimes you strike gold in the place you least expect it.

We had a rest day today. Lots of lounging, lots of stories, lots of laughter and at time, close to tears. I had the honor of spending the afternoon with two new friends, Rachael and Kara. Both amazing women, both blind. We shared our stories and our truths - the ones that come after learning life lessons. Each one shared with me their blindness. Each one patient as I asked questions. They were both open to my inquiry and taught me about their beautiful unique lives.

After a warm meal, surrounded by Olympians and Paralympians, we shared more stories. Enticed by a piano playing in the background, the three of us women were drawn to the music. And it was there, as we listened to an Olympic rower fumble with the keys and feel his way into the sounds of the piano that I saw it. That glimmer of gold. Those moments you cherish in your heart.

The Moonlight Sonata tickled our ears. We could have stayed there all night. It was nice to just sit. To absorb it into our senses. To just be.

Jump Start the Life of Your Dreams in 2013!

Do you find yourself questioning the meaning life? Why you were put on this planet? What your life purpose and how you're trying to figure out how to align the many things in your life to it?

You are not alone. I think we all face this at one time or another. Or maybe many times in our life for that matter. Possibly many times in one day!

Do you find yourself staying awake at night, pondering what's out there? What's in store? What's my beating heart beating for?

Or maybe you know your life purpose. You know you were put on this planet to get your heart rate up, to raise those kids, to be a fantastic lover, friend and mentor. But you're having a hard time balancing it all. It's hard to strike that perfect balance between all of the things that pull at us in life.

You are not alone.

I am here to help. To help you discover your life purpose, to explore who you are as a unique, resourceful and amazing individual. To hold your hand and be a witness. To hold space and coach you through difficult times, celebrate the good times and enhance your overall experience

Together we will explore what makes you tick and align you with a crew of support. We will do inner work that is deep and rich and rewarding beyond measure. I will equip you with tools to apply happiness and a fresh perspective toward whatever challenges may arise in your life. The choice is yours for the making.

Ready to go for it? Wonderful! My rates are $100 a month for two 45 minute phone calls at a mutually agreed upon time. Need a sample to see if coaching is right for you? I provide free 1/2 hour sessions.

If you or someone you know would like to see the many benefits of life coaching, please contact me today.

Happy 2013!

Tandem Piloting 101

The lessons, and there have been many, of tandem piloting:

1. It's a team effort. One person cannot do it alone. I am the eyes of our bike and my stoker is 100% reliant upon my ability to put us in the right position to succeed. Our sum weight is over 320 pounds. Bike, gear, girls. That's a lot to love. Together, we spin up hills, putting in equal amounts of effort and blood sweat and tears. The reward: descents. Thank God what goes up, must come down.

2. It's a team effort. We must be in synch. I am learning to do everything with my stoker: meals, sleep, recovery, down time, off the bike time. Texting our honeys from afar. We do everything, together.

3. It's a team effort. We're learning one each others habits, our quirks, what makes us tick and what doesn't. Thank goodness my stoker is kind, patient and sweet. We compliment one another well, especially off the bike, which translates to on the bike effort. We're both learning from each other. For me, I'm taking in her I want to kill bitches! on the bike attitude. Sometimes you need more grrrrrr in your life to fuel that competitive fire.

4. It's a team effort. We have an uphill time trial in less than an hour. I just checked and our bike has a 39x28. For those who don't know cycling lingo, that's a mighty small gear for a 7 mile climb with a 5% average gradient. There will be suffering. There will be sweat. There will be tears. There will be sweet success when we get to the top. And we'll get to do it, together.

5. You have to be all in. There's no partial participation. You're either all in this, or your not. I'm in. (Ask me that question again after the hill, please.)

A Cycling Post!

Oh no she didn't!

Yep, it's true. While doing some expansive personal exploration, I've still managed to ride my bike. Take that back, I've been training.

And today's post is brought to you courtesy of the Olympic Training Center in Chula Vista, California.

Yep - that's me!

I'm here participating at the para-cycling national team camp. I'm piloting a tandem bicycle with a blind female athlete and getting some piloting experience this week. Of course my long term goal is Rio in 2016, but this is a small step in the right direction! We're targeting 24+ hours on the bike this week... thank goodness for an endless buffet.

Yeah, yeah. I know. I've been keeping this one on the down low. I've been intrigued ever since I first learned of the para program and the want for more female pilots. This past October while watching track nationals from the stands, I approached Craig Griffin and expressed my sincere interest in getting involved. One thing lead to another and well, here I am in Chula Vista. One small step toward my big goal of Rio 2016.

Beauty.

Take my hand and I'll lead you,
   lead you to another place.

A place where you can shed your layers.
   Layers of material things, fears and assumptions.

A place where the sun warms your soul.
    And it's there, there in that place, that you see your beautiful magnificence.

You are beautiful.

Resolve.

Ryan's death created a sense of resolution urgency. All of the things I wanted to do, all of the things I wanted to be and my ability to focus on the grand picture, came to the forefront. A massive light went off. One filled with clarity and wisdom. One that cut right through the bothersome small things in life and boom! Made me realize that we've got this one life and only a short amount of time to live it to the fullest. Why waste a breath of energy on something that isn't aligned with happiness, laughter and fulfillment?

Bickering, complaining, bitching. Blah, blah, BLAH! I suddenly had zero tolerance for any petty problems.

I would walk out during conversations. I'd check out when someone started to rant. Often I would go into an immediate trance. Someone's lips might be moving and sound coming from their mouth, but I was in a parallel universe. I often pictured myself in the North Cascades, climbing solo one of the Liberty Bell spires. At the top, I'd soak in the sun and the alpine views. I'd just be. It always calmed me down. And sometimes Ryan would join me there.

I remember asking him questions without really saying anything. His presence provided affirmation that I was on the right path. That my internal wisdom would carry me through. That I was discovering something more about myself that not many people get the opportunity to do. I absolutely trusted myself there.

My resolve to live a life full of adventure, rich with experience and no regrets became my mantra. I wrote down places to travel. Places that Ryan and I wanted to share together and places that I wanted to go on my own. A daring woman was burning inside of me, ready to take risks I had oppressed. Ready to live the life of my dreams. Not what someone else thinks I should do or be - my dreams, my life.

Ryan and I talked years ago about moving some where new. Somewhere with more sun, mountains and outdoor adventures. I wrote about moving on multiple occasions: Tahoe, Colorado, Northern California. Yet it never manifested. I suppose we weren't ready. After he passed, I found myself longing to relocate. To start fresh. To begin a new adventure and really get in touch with who I am.

It's not that I didn't identify with Seattle or the Pacific Northwest for that matter. I dearly love my family and friends. But long ago, I oppressed the burning desire to live in a sunny climate. And now with my new found clarity and resolve, I was ready to make the move. To take the leap into Lovers Lane.


At the top of my list: Colorado. A state full of sun, mountains, snow and no rain. A place where I could learn to further love myself. And in turn, enable me to open up and fully love Benjamin. Luck would have it Benjamin lived in Colorado Springs and fate would have it that five years prior I put a Garden of the Gods poster in a dream box with full intention of living there. It's funny how things work out.

But moving to a sunny state, a long way from family and friends was risky. I didn't have a job lined up. Just a girl with big dreams, a mending heart and so open for new experiences and love, that I knew it was bound to work. Thankfully I had the wisdom that to be happy, truly happy, I had to follow my heart. That when Ryan died and some time had passed, I needed to move on, in my own way. My drive, my passion, my livelihood died in Seattle. And although I tried to keep it alive, to rekindle some flame back into living there, I knew change was certain.

My internal voice whispered gently at first. Too much change all at once, especially during the year of firsts, might have set me further back. Or worse, it would paralyze me. I still had my moments though. Moments of panic, waves of grief and sadness. When I resurfaced from the storm, the clarity and wisdom remained. That and I experienced another breaking point.

Sticking with Resolutions

I believe in resolutions. I think they add great value to our lives. It's a chance to take a stand. A chance to make change in your life. A chance to address something you've been meaning to do but for some reason or another never got around to it.

I find it pretty stinking amazing that as humans we can change things about ourselves. That we can do inner work to bring out our true beings. Or we can work on our outer appearances and health. We possess the ability to be ourselves. Our true, unique and beautiful selves.

In keeping with resolutions, I'm resolving to get my book out. I know, I know. I've said that before. But I'm ready to do what's necessary to get it up and published. I read a book titled, "The Happiness Project" in which a woman decided to bring more happiness in her life by addressing major themes in her life each month. January: Boost Energy. February: Remember Love. March: Aim Higher. April: Lighten Up. May: Be Serious About Play. June: Make Time for Friends. etc. I liked her creative approach so I decided to apply her Happiness Project to my book project.

And in keeping with all good resolutions (or at least increasing the chances of them actually manifesting), I'm sharing them with you.

January: Resolutions.
February: Love.
March: Expiration Dates and Birthdays.
April: My drive and impact in the world.
May: Appreciation.
June: Remembrance and wanting to quit - everything.
July: Renewed enthusiasm and spirit.
August: Focusing on Goals and being opened up.
September: The Accident.
October: A Year of Firsts.
November: Giving Thanks and Recognizing Gifts.
December: Healing in Colorado over the holidays.

Here's to being that small 12% who actually make their New Year's Resolutions stick. Oh, and I think I'm going to find myself a writing coach. Why not?!