How Many Followers Do You Have?

Last week on Facebook, I read something that was not only inspiring but thought provoking. It made me smile in reminding me that greatness is not always determined by popularity or conformity.

The phrase was simple: “Just because someone has more followers than you doesn’t mean they’re better than you. Hitler had millions. Jesus had 12.”

When I started this blog, I did so with the sole intent that I wanted to try and do something good with my writing. I don’t care whether five people or 5,000 people read it. I don’t care whether it ever catches the watchful eye of a publishing company that subsequently offers me a book contract like in the movie Julia and Julia….although that would be quite fabulous. All I care about is that at least one person--somewhere, someday-- reads it and walks away from it feeling better about life and who they are as an individual. I have no idea as to how many people actually read this blog, although I do hear from people on a regular basis who’ve read my most recent post and commend me on it. My blog following is small and largely limited to people who know me. But you have to start somewhere.

Most everything I do in my life...whether it’s my writing, pedaling my bicycle a ridiculous number of miles just to see if I can, trying my hand at playing hockey, loving people unconditionally who bring nothing good to my life, or riding a wakeboard in a hot pink tutu…I am constantly trying to push myself out of my comfort zone, raise the bar for what women are capable of, and setting myself apart from the majority.

And some people think I am absolutely crazy for those and so many other things! Some people won’t even associate with me…whether that’s because they are intimidated by me, they don’t understand me, or I’m just too much to handle, I’ll never know. But quotes like the one on Facebook remind me that things like that should not be deterrents in the things I try to do or be. There was a time when people thought it foolish when Columbus said the world was round, not flat. Or when Lincoln said that slavery should be abolished. Or when Susan B. Anthony preached that women deserved the right to vote. Or when it was finally announced to passengers that the “unsinkable” Titanic was foundering in the middle of the Atlantic.

Some of the greatest things achieved by mankind were at one time thought to be impossible. Some of the greatest minds were once called crazy and foolish. The world’s largest religious following today was started by a man who initially only had 12 followers and who was ultimately put to death.

The point is that thinking outside the box and going against the grain is an incredibly difficult and burdensome path for those who choose to travel down it. There will be far more reasons along the way to turn back and conform to what everyone else want you to do and believe. But in order for the world to evolve and become a better place, there has to be some brave enough to stay on course.

My dream of being a writer and doing something good through what I write is a lofty one. And odds are I will never have the literary success of Ms. J. K. Rowling or win a Nobel Peace Prize or have 5 million followers on my Facebook page or blog. And unlike some people I know who have had nothing but success in their life and flash it about with expensive toys, houses and adoring groupies, my success someday will be displayed in the smiles on people’s faces when they read my articles and books and them feeling better inside because of a sentence of mine they couldn’t get out of their head.  I may never have a large following for my writing or anything I do in my life, but that doesn’t mean I won’t still achieve greatness. I believe that a person’s motivation behind what they do with their life is a bigger determinant of the level of success and greatness they will go on to have….whether during their  time or long after. Hitler did horrible things and sought to wipe out an entire race of people simply because they were different. He had millions of followers during his reign. But how many does he have now? Jesus showed how you could live a good and pure life and he died to save the souls of all mankind. He had 12 followers during his lifetime….today he is worshiped by billions of people on every continent on earth.

The number of followers you have…in whatever you do….does not determine success, greatness, or goodness. What determines those things is your reason behind doing them and the nobility and integrity of that reason.

Why I Ride

Remember that part in the movie “Forrest Gump” where Forrest takes off running from one side of the country to the other and back again and is gone for over 3 years? People who saw him asked if he was running for world peace or the environment or women’s rights. His response was simple: “I just felt like running.”

I never thought that much about that part of the movie or Forrest’s answer until about three years ago when I did my first long-distance bicycle ride. I’d been going through a bit of a personal crisis and felt like I was at the end of my rope. Then one morning I started thinking about how my dad used to always joke about riding his bike to Lincoln, MT. I’d always told him he was crazy. But that day I just got it in my head that I was going to try to do it. Three months later, on the first day of August 2010, I rolled into Lincoln on my mountain bike absolutely exhausted—but completely inspired by what I had done.

The next summer I biked to Lincoln again, this time riding the highway the entire way and not taking Stemple Pass. Last summer, in 2012, I did the “Tour de Lincoln.” I rode to Lincoln on one day, spent the night there, and rode home the following day for a grand total of 137 miles.

Unless you’ve pushed yourself through a similar challenge of physical endurance, it might be hard to understand. But doing those rides made me a better person----made me stronger, more confident, and more hopeful. I chose to do all of the rides alone too. I didn’t want any “cheerleaders” standing on the side of the road tossing me Cliff bars and Dixie cups full of water. I’ve had very few people in my life stand on the sidelines encouraging me to keep moving forward each day, so the way I figured it, if I managed to be successful at these rides, I wanted it to be purely by the will of God and my own sheer determination. And I do believe that that decision is what made the rides so rewarding.

This year I wanted a different challenge. So I decided I would bike to Butte, MT. 

On the first day of summer (June 21) I woke up at my usual ambitious hour of 5 a.m. to start getting everything ready. I squeezed into my spandex pants, pulled my hair into a long braid down my back and filled my camelback. I scarfed down a bagel and cream cheese, took a few giant swigs of some chocolate milk and I was set to go…..except for one final thing.

I realized a long time ago that I’ve only managed to make it this far and become the person I am because of the roles several crucial individuals have played in my life. When I did my second ride I knew that there would be moments when I’d get tired and want to quit. And those would be the moments where I would need to be reminded of the reasons I get up every single day and give the world my very best—even in the face of all the things telling me not to. The reasons for who I am and what I do, essentially come down to nine individuals. They are the people who have loved and hated me, inspired me and broke me, tested me and stood by me. They are the people I pray for each night and try to maintain some sort of relationship with even in the face of overwhelming obstacles.

The last thing I did before heading out on my ride to Butte and as well as on my rides the two years prior, was to write the initials of those nine people on my arm. I then encircled their initials with a giant cross to remind me of who brought all of those people into my life and who alone knows the reasons why.  

After two mountain passes, seven hours, and nearly 70 miles I finally crested the hill and saw Butte. I was beyond exhausted and my knees were so sore I could barely stand and pedal. As I started gaining speed upon descending the hill, my eyes scanned the mountain-side to my left. I was looking for the Lady of the Rockies statue.

One week earlier I visited the statue for the first time. While I was there, I wrote prayers for several people and left them inside the statue. Some of those prayers were for the same people whose initials were emblazoned on my arm.

For seven hours I biked my heart out with nothing but the image of the statue in my mind. I think part of me hoped that if I made it through the ride and finally flew down the hill by it on my bike that my prayers would be answered. And even if they weren’t, I would’ve proved to myself and God just how much I was willing to fight for anything in my life that I wanted.  

When I finally saw the statue come into view at the top of the mountain, tears started streaming down my face. I had made it! I kept my eyes locked on the statue for several minutes as I continued down the hill. I looked down at the initials on my arm and thought of how grateful I was to all of those people. Without them, I never would’ve attempted the ride to Butte. I never would’ve realized my full potential and then surpassed it over and over again.

My ride to Butte and each day of my life is forever dedicated to those nine people. I thank God each day for bringing them into my life….and I continue to try and keep them there in some way with each passing day.

AG
GM+SM
JN
SM
JW
SW
KL
BB  

I love you all!

You, the Brand

Always on the lookout for something to help me along my journey of becoming a writer, my dad recently bought me the book, I Shouldn’t Be Telling You This: Success Secrets Every Gutsy Girl Should Know, by Kate White. Not only has Ms. White authored several of her own books, she was also the editor of Cosmopolitan magazine for 14 years. Needless to say, this woman knows her stuff! I was curious to dig into it and see what I could learn from her.

I’m only about halfway through the book, but I already feel better prepared for how to navigate through and become successful in my future career paths. And what I love most about the book so far is White’s blunt and uninhibited honesty on all matters. She tells it like it is--what she’s been through, what she’s seen, and what she’s  learned from others---all in a straightforward manner that not only makes you laugh but also pay close attention.

One chapter in particular stood out to me, perhaps because I’ve been self-consciously working on it in the past year. The chapter was called “You, the Brand.” Basically, White encourages the reader to develop their own brand identity, which is comprised of the values that make you who you are. The theory is that once you develop your brand, it will begin translating over into how you dress, how you act, and what you go on to do with your life. And once you figure out what your brand is, she stresses the need to keep reinforcing it at every opportunity. White declared her brand to be one based around “no-nonsense.” It wasn’t until I was in the middle of this chapter that I realized I was already working on developing and advertising my brand....I just didn’t quite know that “personal brand identity” was the name for what I was doing. 

Last summer I took a picture of myself wearing a tutu and posing on my dirt bike. I blew it up, framed it, and gave it to my dad for Father’s Day with a special engraved plaque underneath it. The plaque read “Happy Father’s Day 2012 To the Man Who Raised a Daughter with a Little Bit of Grace and a Little Bit of Grit.” It was supposed to play off of the ironic fact that while I did 13 years of ballet I also have always been a tomboy and loved my motorsports. Although I loved the phrase “little bit of grace and little bit of grit” when I first composed it, it wasn’t until I saw the whole picture and plaque put together that I realized I just might be on to something.

About six months after I gave that picture to my dad, I started this blog. And I titled it “A Little Bit of Grace, a Little Bit of Grit.” Ta-da! My brand was carrying over into my next step as a writer. Now, I am constantly thinking of ways to incorporate that brand into my everyday life and the work I do as a writer.

It’s so easy nowadays to follow a popular trend or celebrity style rather than digging into your own identity and creating your own brand that others will want to follow. I have moments where I love to twirl around in tutus comprised of layers of airy tulle. And I have moments where I love to kick up the gears on my bike and go splashing through a mud puddle. I am graceful and yet have a grittiness about me. And the more I write, the more I realize that my writing reflects those same qualities.  I’ve written about a lot of amazing people, some who have gone through terrible ordeals. They have a grittiness to their life as well. But I use my talent as a writer to bring a piece of beauty and grace to their story.

Ultimately, I know now what my personal brand is, and it is my goal to continue developing it and playing it out in my life in every way possible. And I highly encourage everyone else to do the same. You might feel like a rock star when you’re decked out in designer labels and are keeping pace with the trends. But you’ll feel like a god when you own who you are through your own personal brand. And I guarantee you’ll turn some heads doing it.

Racing Toward the Goal

When I was younger, and school finally let out for the summer, I started counting down the days until the annual motocross races at the Last Chance Raceway off York Road. Between the summer sun beating down on the back of your neck, the feel of loose dirt squishing underneath your feet, the sound of two-stroke engines revving all around and the heavenly aroma of burgers cooking on the grill, it was one of my favorite parts of summer. And the cherry on top was getting to watch my dad race a few of those years. 

There was one race in particular that has always stood out in my mind. I remember it being blazing hot out as I stood behind the fence by the race start watching all of the riders line their bikes up. My eyes scanned the lineup for my dad’s yellow Suzuki with the number 12 emblazoned on the side. The race start is what I remember the most.  Al of the riders had to start by straddling their front fender. When the shot rang out, they had to run around and jump on their bike, pump the kick start, throw them into gear and ride like hell. When the shot at this rang out for this race to start my dad moved faster than I’d ever seen him. He was the first one to pull away from the start, and was so far ahead of everyone else that people must’ve thought he’d jumped the gun. Meanwhile, I was screaming at the top of my lungs, “That’s my dad! That’s my dad!”

It was moments like that one that always left me a little envious and desirous to know what it would be like to race. This past Saturday, I finally had the chance to experience exactly that. My dad, boyfriend, and I all signed up for the Crazy Ben XC race out in Clancy. I was nervous for the challenges it would bring, but excited to carry on the Middlestead race legacy.

The sun was high in a pale blue sky that day. It was a comfortable 65 degrees out with just a breath of wind rolling over the hills. When 12:15 p.m. rolled around, the three of us wheeled our bikes up to the start line. The men would start first, followed by the women a few minutes later. All I remember about the start was trying to control my anxious breath from inside my helmet and focusing on the man up in front who would signal when to go. We did a dead engine start, which I’d never done before. But when the man threw his arm down, I started my engine, clicked it into first gear, and revved my engine a bit as I let out the clutch. It seemed like a million steps but I did it in one fluid motion. After popping a small wheelie, I was off and riding.

The goal was to do as many laps around the course in 90 minutes as you could. I quickly lost track of time though and didn’t count my laps. All I could do was focus on the trail in front of me and stay determined to finish no matter what. I crashed four times and was constantly dodging boulders and trees and slippery mud ruts. It was exhausting and nerve wracking. But it never once crossed my mind to pull out and quit. I needed to prove myself.....to my dad....and to my own self.

With every stop at the lap checkpoint, I felt a little more confident and smiled a little bigger behind my helmet. I was doing it....I was racing in my first race....and I was going to finish. When I finally came around the corner and saw the checkered flag, I breathed a sigh of relief and felt my heart beat surge. I had really done it! The race had felt hours long, but once it was over, it seemed like it had ended all too suddenly. I finished 5^th out of six women riders. I didn’t bring a trophy home that day, but I had finished. Even more importantly, I had had the courage to try in the first place.  

If someone had told me years ago that I would someday play a season of hockey, race in a cross country motocross race, and bike 140 miles, I would’ve told them they were crazy. Yet, in the past few years I have done every one of those things. I go to sleep every night knowing that I’m only starting the rev the engine of my life and there is much I will go on to accomplish still. As much as I shock people around me by the things I do, it’s not nearly as much as I shock myself. But I believe that if you aren’t pushing yourself beyond yourself, you aren’t really living. You aren’t giving life your best. It’s the things you don’t think you are capable of trying that you should be trying to do. See, the more things I’ve accomplished in life that I would’ve thought impossible years earlier, the more courage and strength I develop. And the next time an obstacle is dropped down in front of me, I just stand smiling at it because I know that I will take it on and overcome it.  

I’m sure my dad having an only child, and a girl to boot, made him think at one time about all the things he would never be able to teach her. Who would he be able to pass along his passions for hockey and motocross to? But I have spent the past 26 years, and especially the last year, showing him that I am far more than just a girl. I think I’ve shown him that I have a lot more of his spirit in me than he ever gave me credit for. And that’s one of my major goals in life: to live life so fully that I am constantly shocking the world around me....even those people who I am closest to. Just when people think they know me and how far I can go, I come up throwing another punch. To do anything less is simply an insult to the beautiful life God has blessed me with.

A Gracious Hug

This past week, I was reminded once more of why I want to be a writer and what the purpose of my writing needs to always be. I was asked for the second year in a row to write several articles concerning breast cancer, particularly breast cancer survivors.

 It was right around this same time last year that my eyes were first opened to the notion that my writing, however I continue pursuing it, must ultimately do something good for the people and world around me. I can’t think of a more beautiful way of fulfilling this purpose than by sharing the stories of women who have suffered through and endured the ordeal of cancer.

The second lady I interviewed was named Sandy. She had shoulder length curly hair and a bright smile to greet me when I first walked up to her in the middle of the crowded seating area at Starbucks. Although it was painfully awkward, I had to start the interview off by asking her if she could tell me about her experience with breast cancer. She explained to me that she had first noticed something was wrong on Christmas day, 12 years ago. She would come to find out that she did in fact have breast cancer.

One of the more inspiring parts of her story to me was her explaining how proactive she became about her treatment right from the beginning. She carefully did her research and ended up selecting a doctor at a clinic in Portland. As a precaution, Sandy also made the difficult decision to have a double mastectomy. She would later have reconstructive surgery.

But at the end of all of it, Sandy walked away from the experience appreciative of how it had changed her life and made her a better person.

As I was wrapping up my conversation with Sandy and preparing to leave, she politely thanked me for taking the time to meet with her. And then, much to my surprise, she asked if she could hug me. Over the past four years since graduating college, I have interviewed dozens of people for all kinds of stories. But never once has anyone ever asked to hug me as their way of saying thank you for my work. I hadn’t even written the article yet, but here was this woman wanting to hug me in appreciation for something she hadn’t even seen. Of course, I told her she could hug me. And so we stood there embracing each other right there in the middle of Starbucks. It only lasted a second or two, but it’s one of the few hugs I know I will never forget as long as I live.

What I have come to learn is that there isn’t a single person in this world who doesn’t have some story to share. As a writer, I have to pick and choose which stories I bring to life on the page for others to read. And that is one of the greatest blessings of being a writer—being able to share the stories of others who either lack the strength or the skills necessary to share it themselves. After all, even one of the greatest books ever written—the Bible---wouldn’t be around if there hadn’t been writers daring enough to record the stories of God’s work.   

Even though I learned a year ago that I needed to do something good with my writing, it wasn’t until that moment when Sandy hugged me that I finally understood why. Moments like that make what I do worth it. That is the kind of reward that no amount of money could ever match.

Tomorrow I will be walking in the Race for the Cure with my grandma. I will be walking not only to support Sandy and all the women and people whose lives have been forever changed by breast cancer, but also as my way of saying thank you to the cause that helped advance me one step farther down my journey as a writer.

 

Never Grow Up!

Last week I had the wonderful pleasure of flying down to Florida and taking in all the sights, sounds, and tastes of DisneyWorld. While I have been to both there and DisneyLand before, the magic that seems to abound throughout those parks never ceases to amaze me.

As I walked along, chomping down yet another Mickey shaped treat, I couldn’t help but smile at all the little girls dolled up in their princess dresses and tiaras with glitter sprinkled in their hair. I didn’t see one of them that didn’t have a smile beaming across her face. There were the little boys, with eye patches on and scruffy pirate beards painted along their face. All of them looked more than ready to set sail with Captain Jack Sparrow on the Pirates of the Caribbean ride.

And it’s not just the little kids who felt the need to play dress up. Everywhere I looked I saw teenage girls and grandmothers alike sporting Minnie Mouse ears or tiaras. And dads walked hand in hand with their little princesses while wearing Goofy or Donald Duck hats. That’s part of the magic of Disney….every girl, regardless of age gets to be a princess and 50 year old men are proud to be seen in their Goofy hats, complete with floppy ears and buck teeth. 

Disney truly is a place where dreams come true and you can just exist in a happy moment--carefree of any worries back at home. In essence, you get to slip back to living like a kid and forget that minor detail of life about growing up.

I took away a lot of memories from my five days spent in Disneyworld but perhaps the most tickling moment came on my final night there. I was browsing through a store in Downtown Disney with my mom when I glanced down and saw a wicker basket filled with small, rectangular pillows. I bent down and picked one up only to see that it had the simple phrase, “Never Grow Up,” embroidered on it. I smiled remembering why that phrase has such significance in my life.

The first time my parents took me to Las Vegas I was approximately 10 years old. One afternoon we were passing through the casino of the Hilton Hotel on our way outside. I was almost to the door when a man stepped out in front of me from a craps table he was dealing on. I looked up at him as he placed a pair of red craps dice in my hand. I was carefully balancing the dice in the palm of my hand when he looked down at me and said, “Kid, never grow up.” That was all he said. I said thank you for the dice and my parents finished escorting me out of the casino.

I don’t know why, of all the thousands of people streaming in and out of the casino that day, that that man picked me out of the crowd and handed me those dice. And even though I knew what he told me was important, I wasn’t entirely clear about why until years later when, eventually, I did start to grow up.

Seeing that pillow in Disney brought that Vegas memory flooding back into my mind. I slung the pillow under my arm and toted it over to the register to pay for it. It was one memento from Disney that I knew was well worth the money.  The sad reality is that all of us do, in at least one sense, grow up eventually. But I’ve come to see that that youthful state of mind that revisits anyone who’s gone to DisneyLand/DisneyWorld doesn’t have to go away. We just forget that it’s there.

I believe that an occasional visit to either of the Disney parks is a must for every single person. Because I think it reminds all of us of what it’s like to be a kid and have fantastical dreams and feel free to imagine we’re the princesses and pirates we grew up reading stories and watching movies about. As the saying goes, growing old is mandatory, growing up is optional.

What you are looking for is already in you

Two Christmas Eves ago, while I was unwrapping presents at my parents’ house, I came across a flat square present addressed to me from my cousin Sam. After carefully tearing away the paper, I saw that it was a plain black picture frame with a single line of texted matted in the center. Upon more careful observation, I saw that the words were actually a quote: “What you are looking for is not out there, it is in you.” The quote was by Helen Keller.  I knew instantly that no other Christmas gift received that year would compare to this humble one, and also, that I would never forget Miss Keller’s words.

“What you are looking for is not out there, it is in you.” It’s a simple quote, but I find myself continually revisiting it and discovering new significance behind it.

One of the first moments I really felt the weight of meaning behind the quote was last August when I attempted a marathon solo bicycle ride from Helena to Lincoln, MT and back again.  It took me over 14 hours to complete the 137 mile journey. From inclement weather and mechanical issues with my bike, to excruciating back and butt pain that never went away, I wondered nearly every mile of my ride whether I would make it.  

Then, when I was about 30 miles away from Helena again, I summited Flesher Pass. It was the second of two major passes I knew I’d have to climb on my trip. The moment I saw the top of Flesher, I knew I would make it. That was also the moment I gained some perspective on what Helen Keller’s quote truly meant.

There have been so many times in my life when I’ve prayed for strength to overcome a challenging time. There have been times where I’ve laid curled in a ball on the floor sobbing because I felt too weak to do anything else. There was a time once that when people told me I couldn’t do something, I believed them. There was a time in high school gym class, where jogging one mile seemed like the hardest thing I’d ever do. And yet, when I pedaled my way over the top of Flesher Pass that day and continued on to complete a 137 mile bike ride, I finally realized that all the things I’d prayed for, all of the qualities I’d sincerely believed I didn’t have in me, all the goals I was often told I was incapable of achieving----I finally realized that all of those assets and qualities to do and be anything and everything I wanted to, were already in me. I had just spent too much time LOOKING for them externally, rather than looking internally where I should have trusted they already were.

While I found new strength and determination inside me on my bike ride, I found a new level of courage inside me a few months ago when my dad convinced me to start playing hockey. At first I thought he was crazy. How could the girl who did ballet for 13 years and never played a team sport in her life play on a hockey team? But he bought me the gear and I hit the ice. I was absolutely petrified during my first game and didn’t have a clue what I was doing. But by the time the buzzer sounded for the end of the third period, I knew that I was in love with the game.

During my second game, while I was waiting for the zamboni to finish resurfacing the ice, I discovered that I had lost my stick amongst the long line of everyone else’s sticks along the wall. Having only really played with it during that first game, I couldn’t honestly remember what it looked like. Thankfully, my dad helped me find the stick just in the nick of time for our game to start. He explained to me that he had the same problem, and showed me how he wrote the letters “TCB” (his signature logo) on the end of his stick handle so he wouldn’t lose it. For those unfamiliar, TCB, standing for Taking Care of Business, was part of Elvis Presley’s famous emblem. I made a mental note to come up with my own logo and put it on my stick later so I wouldn’t misplace it again.  

After a lot of long nights wearing sweaty hockey pads, one miraculous goal, and a lot of encouragement from my dad, I somehow managed to finish my rookie season of hockey. I took on a sport I knew nothing about and could barely play and stuck it out as the only woman on the team. I don’t think anyone was as astonished as I was. When I skated off the ice after that last game, I snuck a quick glance down at my stick handle where I had written the word “FEARLESS” with a black sharpie. I smiled knowing that I didn’t believe that about myself when I stepped onto the ice for that first game, but now I was certain of it.

No matter who you are or how capable or talented you think you might be, there is always a part of us that wishes we were stronger, braver, or more accomplished. But the thing is, all of the things we think we need to become that person, are already inside us. We merely need to tap into them. As my dad reminded me on the night I scored my first hockey goal, even Wayne Gretzky started with a single goal. I kept that in mind during every game I played after as well as the fact that what I was looking for was not out there….but in me. And all I’d really been looking for all my life, but only recently found, was that element of fearlessness that I now know will sustain me through anything.