Strength: Becoming Yourself

For over a decade I wanted to get back in shape.

In 2012 I completed Ironman Arizona in just under 13 hours. A full Ironman is a 2.4 mile swim, 112 mile bike ride, and a full marathon (26.2 mile) run in one day. I was in shape to say the least! In 2012, I also started my first business. A few months after the Ironman as we entered 2013, I quit the comfortable, high-paying job I’d had forever and went all-in on my dream of a food business.

That first business was bootstrapped - started from nothing but pure work and quite a bit of poverty. I still have occasional nightmares of the amount of work we had to do to get that beast moving. I traded in my 401K and company-paid health insurance for 15-hour days on my feet, skipped workouts, and a handful of new injuries as a result of poor training.

The joke in the food business is that you’re surrounded by good food, but relegated to shoveling whatever is left in your face at 1am sitting on a dirty milk crate, exhausted, in some dark corner of the kitchen. My life went from stable to all-over-the-place. I slept too little. Worked too much. Missed workouts. Drank too much. Cut out stretching and strength training. I let my self-care and mental health take a back seat to mounting anxiety, stress, and panic over finances. I fell out of shape over time but my business, my sweet little baby, it was thriving!

Along with that business growth came this newfound anxiety. All of the sudden I felt very exposed - I was literally representing my business. Every single customer, every order, every remark - it was ALL personal. In an effort to find some kind of internal shelter, I hid. I hid in unflattering clothes. I hid with no makeup. I hid by looking plain. I hid by having all black, white or grey clothes - utilitarian and functional. In some ways it was efficient, in others - it was a subconscious way to disappear in an effort to simply be likable. Not too much, not too loud, not too pretty, not too strong, just likable.

The problem is that I don’t have a small personality. But the life I built left me no room for taking chances, garnering criticism, negative feedback. I had formed this incredibly personal business and I deeply cared about everyone who worked with me and all of my customers. I didn’t have the internal structure developed to support that level of authenticity and exposure.

I was miserable.

I hated how I looked. I hated how I felt. No matter what I tried, I couldn’t find myself. I tried different haircuts, money, a new car. Nothing felt right.

After my divorce I bought myself a house in a new town. I knew a handful of people and I realized I could be whoever I wanted. I thought back to the wild me that some of you know from my teens and 20s. Free, brave, courageous, bold, a little too wild even. I thought of the me that skydived hundreds of times. The me that took up rock climbing. The me that started working with five guys I didn’t know and met them half way around the world. The me that heard a voice in the Cancun airport bathroom asking me what I was waiting for and came home and sold my house and quit my job. The me that had just bought myself the house I really wanted. The me that asked for a divorce because while I wasn’t that unhappy, I knew I had the potential to be really fucking happy.

I bought outrageous lipstick colors. I bought red patent leather high heels. I bought a yellow sweater. I hung crystal sun sparklers in every window so rainbows exploded across the house. I painted whatever I wanted, whenever I wanted. I journaled. I took pole dancing classes. I stared at the clouds. I planted a garden. I adopted a nightmare of a cat. I made friends with my neighbors. I went on hundreds of little dates with myself all over. I built a custom pantry and two beautiful fireplace mantles. I quit my job (again).

Along the way I kept running mile after mile of beautiful pacific northwest trails. Forest Park. The Gorge. The Trail of Ten Falls. The spring flowers out in Mosier. Up and down Dog Mountain alternating between trails named Difficult and More Difficult. Dirt-caked skin, tears running down my face, pure freedom in every heartbeat. I ran like a wild horse set loose in an endless field. It turns out that I needed a lot of space to hear my own thoughts again. Over time I began to weight lift again, something I’d done for years growing up. Then I began to lift heavier and heavier. I realized I needed a new kind of strength for the woman I wanted to become.

I needed to train her right from the ground up this time - this woman I was waiting to be. Wild and free like I was in my youth, but not reckless. Strong and capable, but soft and open. Willing to have fears, and willing to move forwards regardless. Less rigid in opinions and body - more flexible to allow room to grow. It feels like I am just about there now.

I took this photo the other night and was surprised by the strength in my back. I wondered if the photo was too personal, too vulgar, or too intimate perhaps to share. Seems like a silly thought in today’s age - I’m wearing a floor length dress. Perhaps there’s something that feels risqué or taboo about a woman in her forties with radiant and unapologetic self-confidence. But it’s more important to share the daily reps behind the outcome.

If you ever feel like it’s too late to start over - it’s not. And if you ever need a friendly ear from someone who’s been there, I’m always here.

With love and a wild-beating heart,

Rose

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