Lesson to Self #15: The beautiful duet of time and effort

“How many songs are you guys going to play at the end of the year concert?”, I inquired of Addyson, my  ten-year old granddaughter. We were chatting cheerfully as I steered the Grandma Taxi to deliver the child to her classical school that places great value on music education and the arts. The first semester of the year introduced the students to the recorder, performing the practiced songs at the Christmas concert. Now, after five months of playing the violin, she answered my question: “We will play four songs.”

Having previously experienced the lovely squeaks and squawks of novice string musicians, I posed yet another question. “Do ya’ll sound good?”

The answer? “A whole lot better than before!”

She’s on to something. Progress requires equal doses of time and effort. Excellence doesn’t happen in a void. In fact, the standard 10,000 hour rule first attributed to Anders Ericsson and propagated by many, argues that expert status is only achieved after thousands of hours of prescribed, quality, and focused practice. While one might argue the quantification of this road to excellence, few can deny the powerful combination of time and effort.

Addyson knows this. Though she has absolutely no aspirations of becoming a competent violinist, she realizes how important time and effort are to her growth as a competitive gymnast. Foundational skills, precise practice, mental focus, and countless hours in the gym are a must as she makes advances through the Junior Olympic  program.

But one does not need to be an athlete or musician to understand the principle. Whether in business, medicine, construction, education, race car driving, or endless other vocations and avocations, we have no chance of optimizing our performance without optimizing our preparation, which takes considerable time and effort.

The moral of the story? Don’t be discouraged if you think progress is slow and cumbersome. The prerequisites of becoming really good at something always include substantial time and effort.

Is it hard? Sure. Is it tedious? Yep. Can it be frustrating? Of course. Is it worth it? Absolutely.

Lesson to Self #14: Wait Well

As I type these thoughts, I am waiting for something to happen at EMS Station 14. It is quiet, both my partners intermittently scrolling their phones or catching a quick cat nap going into their 24-hour shifts. The donuts kindly donated by some unknown party sit ignored on the large dining table. There is no hustle and bustle. Rater, we quietly await.

Waiting can be excruciating. A friend posted just this morning the difficulty of waiting for critical medical test results. An online acquaintance wrote of Biblical examples of profitable waiting, citing Joseph and King David as exemplars. My own thinking turned to Jairus’ daughter, spoken of in the synoptic Gospels, who had taken ill and died before Jesus arrived. Parental hope must have plummeted to an all-time low when they thought—erroneously—that their waiting for the Healer to arrive would yield only sorrow. Rather, their wait turned joyous when the girl was given back life.

Waiting is hard, mostly because we (read that, I) tend to add too much activity and worry into this period that is intended for rest, faith, and regaining perspective. I want to do, move forward, make progress. It is against my nature to stand still.

At one point in my life, I enjoyed hunting. Before climbing into a tree, I used to joke with my husband, an avid, anything-but-fair weather sportsman, that I was going waiting—not hunting. After all, I was not going to actively stalk, aka hunt, a deer. No. I was simply waiting for one to come close enough to my tree stand so I could whack it and take it home for dinner. My waiting while nestled among the branches proved to be a delightful time of reflection and rest, whether or not it yielded venison for our table.

Are there lessons to be learned in the wait? What should—and should not—happen in the time period between initial activity and continued action?

When we wait well, a solid foundation of patience and contentment develops, especially helpful when the end point is not easily identified. We come to understand that there is little we can do to speed the wait along. Thus, we take a deep breath and settle in, trying to wrangle our obsessive ponderings of “what if” scenarios, which do nothing to alter the outcome.

But do we twiddle our thumbs while we wait or be productive in some way? As a personal example, I am in a waiting period following a serious orthopedic injury. I don’t know when—or even if—I will heal completely. And yet, I am learning to embrace the wait by simply doing what I can do rather than mourning what I cannot. No more, no less makes for a better wait.

What about you? Have you honed your waiting game?

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Lessons to Self #1-13 are available in prior posts.

Lesson to Self #13: Pick your hard but know your why

Alone in the forest and breathing with ferocity, I was probably sucking down more than my fair share of oxygen offered up by the photosynthesizing vegetation. Struggling up the mountain, my watch reported that the trail was rising at a 30% incline. That explained my heave-ho respiratory effort.

My foray into the woods did not present an every-second brutal effort, but with many steep sections ranging from 15-20% grade in the first nine miles, it required considerable effort. But why did I get up at O’dark 30 and head to the mountains by myself in the first place? I submit to you that had I not known my “why” in tackling what was hard, I would likely have stayed in bed.

There are a lot of hard things: relationships, career decisions, academics, athletic endeavors, sickness and injury, to name a few. In my situation, my “hard” is pushing myself physically and mentally. I spend hours swimming laps, push, pull, and lift iron in the weight room, and hike long miles during this time of recovery from a serious knee and tibia injury.

Why? In the big picture, it’s because God made me this way. He made me to be a life-long athlete not for the sake of listing accomplishments, but to use this perfect venue to teach me grit, endurance, and perseverance. Had I not been an athlete learning life lessons for the last 55 years of my athletic career, I honestly don’t think I would be who I am today.

In the short term, my “why” is more personal. I have athletic goals I want to accomplish, none of which will happen without training. Then there is the solace of alone time where the cacophony of birdsong, diversity of flora, scampering squirrels, deer, and even the little Bunny Foo Foo who runs through the forest all speak to the glory, genius, and creativity of our God. The solitude and beauty draws me back time and time again. It is my constant “why.”

What is your “hard” and what is your “why”? Not knowing the latter dooms the first to a short-lived attempt.

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You can read Lessons to Self 1-12 in prior posts.

I help teams and organizations do their hard better. Let me know how I can serve your group. I am currently booking speaking engagements for 2025-2026.

 

Lesson to Self #12: Be really good at the little things

My husband and I attended the USAG Virginia State gymnastics championships this past weekend. Our granddaughter, a spunky and spry 10-year old was competing and had a great day, coming away with a podium finish in the all-around as well as individual medals in each of the four events. She was quite happy, and we continue to be enormously grateful for her God-given abilities.

Addy has been scoring quite well this season, after losing the entire 2024 season due to a badly broken arm and subsequent surgery. She has come back strong, showing resilience and conquering any remnants of fear and trepidation. That said, her golden ring of scores—a 38.00—remains to be earned. Sunday she came ever so close: 37.850 and that got me thinking.

That barely noticeable body position corrections on beam cost her 0.1 for each one. Her beautiful and graceful floor routine was ever so slightly off from the music. Another tenth or two deduction. Perhaps the judges saw her feet slightly misaligned: minus a fraction of a point. Correcting just one or two of these very small problems would have pushed her score beyond the hallowed 38.00.

She had no major breaks on any event, but the judges saw things that needed to be perfected. Though she scored a solid 9.5 on vault, on landing she took a step forward with one foot before drawing it back. This is not an uncommon execution error, but it becomes more understandable when watching the warm-up vaults. Almost without exception, the majority of young gymnasts walked out of their landings. They did not appear to fight for the all important “stick.” So even though the actual vault itself may have been excellent, failure to prioritize a rock-solid landing in practice made it difficult to do so in competition.

In the gym or anywhere, I am reminded of the need to be faithful in the small things. Pay attention to the details. Be excellent in every aspect of our endeavors. Don’t get caught thinking that the seemingly insignificant minutiae are just that—insignificant. Because they aren’t.

If we ignore the little things, our big things will never be the best.

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See prior posts for Lessons 1-11

Please reach out if I can provide value to your team or organization by helping you think deeply about these character skills that can drive performance.

Lesson to Self #11: Seek quiet

 

There it was. A boulder among boulders tucked into the steep ridge line. 

Directly trail-side, it wooed the passerby to sink into its bowl-shaped curvature and lean against the naturally molded backrest. Once seated, the struggle of tackling the terrain was carried away on the wings of the gentle breeze. With trekking poles set to the side, the world became quiet. Not devoid of sound, given the rustle of scurrying squirrels through leaves and cacophony of birdsong. But the solitude I felt was calming. Across the valley, verdant mountains covered in green rose against the blue sky, wispy clouds playing on currents of air. I doubted the presence of another human within miles and miles. I took it all in before continuing my journey, refreshed, renewed, and restored.

The world is a noisy place—literally and figuratively. Sounds of traffic and sirens. Music blaring through speakers. Social media touting messages often intended to raise the ire of the reader. But life is noisy in other ways: long “have to do” lists, busyness, rushing from one thing to the next. The constant noise can deflate the soul, ushering in feelings of despair, loneliness, and perpetual motion.

But the wise intentionally seek respite. As the Psalmist proclaims, “Oh, that I had wings like a dove! I would fly away and be at rest” (Psalm 55:6). And again he writes, “But I have calmed and quieted my soul, like a weaned child with its mother; like a weaned child is my soul within me” (Psalm 131:2).

Oh, that we come to understand that quiet REST is a critical element of RESToration of mind, body, and soul.

 What can we do today to seek quiet and rest, even if for a few precious minutes?

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See prior posts for Lessons 1-10.

Please reach out if I can provide value to your team or organization by helping you think deeply about character skill development and their impact on performance.

Lesson to Self #10: Be kind and caring

It was a beautiful wedding in so many ways. The bride was a former Division 1 athlete whom I had the privilege of mentoring for several years. The groom, a commercial pilot, I had never met. Still, I was thrilled to be invited to this matrimonial celebration.

My husband and I were seated for dinner at the table with the groom’s grandma, two sisters and their husbands, and his younger brother. We wondered if we would have anything to talk about.

Our wondering came to an abrupt halt when we realized that they all lived in my hometown, had attended the same high school as me, and were members of the home church of my youth in Perkasie, PA. Though it had been 48 years since I left that area, we knew some of the same people, now the elder members of the congregation. But the most startling find was that they knew—and loved—my dear mother!

“She was so kind and caring every time I visited her. She even remembered that I had a granddaughter at Liberty University,” shared Grandma. “She was such a wonderful woman.”

As news spread to other family members and friends who had traveled down from the same area, a number of folks approached me asking, “Are you Margaret DeLancey’s daughter? Oh, how we miss her.”

It made my heart happy to be reminded of my mother’s influence even in her last days when life was hard. It was always about the other person.

If in 48 years one of my sons finds himself at a wedding only to realize that another guest knew his mother, I wonder what would be said of her? It certainly is a reminder that our impact—for good or bad—is likely to follow us beyond the years we live.

Lesson to Self #9: Be Respectful

Yesterday I had the distinct privilege of speaking to a roomful of enthusiastic high school students. Prior to my first word, they did what high school kids naturally do in a cool setting: play ping pong, chat, and finish off their Starbucks drinks. But once called to attention, they quickly took their seats and settled in.

I had roughly 30 minutes to story tell, urging them to courageously embrace doing hard things. I did not see any student who failed to listen intently, some leaning forward in their seats as if to capture each word more effectively. And when I was finished and the principal asked some questions of me, she opened the floor to the students. Several quickly raised a hand to offer their perspective on the topic before the entire group gathered around to interact with me up close and personal. This group could have easily become the poster children of respectful behavior.

I contrast that experience with another encounter, this time all high school seniors at another school. Very few lent their attention to me as I stood in front of them. Instead, they consistently held conversations with neighbors and refused to engage when asked. They were disruptive throughout. Every attempt to draw them in failed miserably. I left feeling the brunt of their blatant disrespect.

So I ask myself: How respectful am I? Do I give my undivided attention to my husband when he decides to describe the work he has been doing on his beloved Corvettes or motorcycles when I am engaged in watching a favorite HGTV show? Do I work hard at being attentive when listening to a sermon? Am I gracious with my speech when referring to another’s perspective with whom I heartily disagree?

Respect is a social skill that society seems to be losing in droves. Just listen to the harsh rhetoric and personal insults that are omnipresent on social media outlets. But before I cast stones, I must start with me, myself, and I, ensuring that my level of respect is beyond reproach. I can agree to disagree but my words and conduct need to be filled with grace, love, faith, and purity everyday and always.

"Don’t let anyone look down on you because you are young, but set an example for the believers in speech, in conduct, in love, in faith and in purity." (1 Timothy 4:12 ESV)
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See prior posts for Lessons 1-8

Please reach out if I can provide value to your team or organization by helping you think deeply about these character skills that drive performance.
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Lesson to Self #8: Learn to be trustwilling

As I was in the middle of a weight training session I listened to a podcast named Wild Ideas Worth Living.  As Erik Weihenmayer was interviewed, it was impossible to be amazed at his feats: climbing Mt. Everest, reaching the peaks of the tallest mountain on each continent, paddling through the Grand Canyon, ice climbing—and so much more. But here’s the thing. Erik is blind. Not visually impaired but blind. Like he sees nothing. Nada. Just blackness.

Whoa! How in the world does he do this? He has developed echolocation strategies to help him leap across deep crevasses. His fingers and feet help him identify holds as he ascends rock faces. And he listens intently—and follows—the instructions and cues given by his companions. In fact, he said “Yeah, one of the weird, hidden gifts of blindness is that you have to trust people to get things done. I will tell you straight up, blind people, as far as I know, do not climb mountains, do not climb Everest or kayak the Grand Canyon alone. Maybe I’ll be proven wrong someday, but to get big things done, you need this wonderful team.”

I submit to you the truth of that statement, blind or not. My tendency is to do things myself because it’s often easier than depending on someone else. It’s hard for those of us who like to lead, who like to do, who like to accomplish to put our fate into the hands of another. So, we push on alone to face challenges and struggle through difficulties. And yet, we miss the beauty of camaraderie and striving together. Hence, the contributions, strengths, and growth of potential teammates becomes irrelevant because we shut them out in deference to our own need to check off another box for ourselves. This is a tragic, missed opportunity.

Granted, it is very difficult to transfer trust to another when our self-reliance supersedes our desire to facilitate collaboration and cooperation. And yet, how successful would we be without this community regardless of venue? There is a reason why the most successful athletic teams display healthy doses of trust and dependence on one another. The most efficient business endeavors are marked by teams that share and optimize talent for the good of the whole. And even in the whelm of faith, meeting together with fellow Believers for support and encouragement is prioritized.

So here is the question. How can I develop trustwillingness today? It might be as simple as extending that courtesy to my own family. What about you?
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See prior posts for Lessons 1-7

Please message me if I can provide value to your team or organization by helping you think deeply about these character skills that drive performance. #betterpeoplemakebetteranythings

Lesson to Self #7: Be patient

Years ago when I was working as a perfusionist, I heard the operating room manager belt over the intercom, “I want patients and I want them NOW!” Those of us who heard her cries for quick and efficient patient transport to the OR stopped dead in our tracks. We had never heard this women exhibit such animated frustration before. But then, after a moment of astonishment, we all broke out in raucous laughter at the obvious but unintentional play on words. She was certainly not exhibiting much patience while waiting for patients.

Patience is hard. Who likes to waste a lot of time waiting around for something to happen? Absolutely no one.

But is the time spent waiting actually a waste? Even though it may feel that way, I propose there may be value in the wait.

I wrote about developing more resilience in Lesson 5 of this series. There, I shared about my mysterious injury to my right leg that came out of nowhere on Jan 12, 2025. Well, here I am, two weeks out from my steroid injection in my knee and no closer than I was to be-bopping merrily along country roads and mountain trails. I have increased my distance and effort level in the pool, have been diligent in the weight room, and tolerate the pain as best I can when I try long walks to gain time on feet. Still, I await the day when I can get back to running.

I am frustrated, no doubt, at my inability to run. And with my next doctor’s appointment two weeks in the future before a tentative diagnosis can be posited, I have no other choice but to carry on with alternate training—and learn to develop a healthy dose of patience.

Easier said than done, right? Right. But I have been trying to use those many hours in the pool staring down at the black tile line to re-imagine time spent in pursuit of fitness. Perhaps in the long run (no pun intended) it will prove beneficial to have had this period of non-running. Maybe all this swimming and strength training will give me a body less prone to injury in the future. Maybe I can learn to feel just as free in the pool as I do blazing down a mountain trail. And maybe, just maybe, my mind and desire to compete will hit the reset button to return intact and stronger at the conclusion of this present setback.

Can I predict how or when I will return to running? Nope. But in the meantime, to paraphrase that OR manager, “I want patience and I want it now!” Therefore, I can intentionally change my perspective from something negative to something positive. I can appreciate the benefits of a change-up rather than bemoan the temporary loss of a 35-year habit. And, I can be thankful for the circumstances that help me become more patient.

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See prior posts for lessons 1-6

Please message me if I can provide value to your team or organization by helping you think deeply about these character skills that drive performance. hashtag#betterpeoplemakebetteranythings

Lesson to Self #6: Accountability

My 10-year old granddaughter is a competitive gymnast. After missing last year’s entire season due to a fracture of her right radius and ulna that required 2 plates and 6 screws to fix, she has been making up for lost time. She has had some stellar performances, earning her podium recognition on every event as well as all-around in every meet this season. But that changed this past Sunday.

Her four routines were solid, scoring between 9.175 and 9.50. Those were not her best performances but they were certainly not poor scores. Admittedly, Addy was not perfect but avoided any major breaks.  Her execution was pretty, making watching her a pleasure. By the time the awards came around, we were pretty sure that the clinking of medals around her neck was sure to follow.

And clink she did, ending up with three shiny medals: beam, bars, and all-around. But for the first time all season, she failed to find a place on the podium in the other two events. Hum. How would she take it?

When I drove her to school on Tuesday morning, we chatted casually about this, that, and the other. When opportunity presented itself, I queried her perspective on the meet. She said nothing about the medals that did not find a place around her neck. Rather, she explained that though her scores were not bad, she failed to score higher because some of the required skills were performed at – not above - the minimal level. (For example, her cast from the high bar met the minimal horizontal standard but her body did not rise above that mark. Her first vault landing included a big step and her block off the platform on the second vault was not what it should have been.) Addy made no excuses, nor did she express jealousy for her teammates who threw down best-ever performances. I was impressed and relieved.

Even at her young age, Addy took accountability for her actions. She clearly understood the reasons for her lower-than-expected scores and missing medals. This honest appraisal allowed her to accept her scores without placing blame on judges or other circumstances. Practice the following day proved very productive because she went into it knowing exactly what needed to be improved.

If a 10-year old can accept accountability for her own actions, we should be so wise.

Lesson #5 to Self: The art of becoming resilient

Resiliency is not for the weak of heart. I should know because I've had lots of practice trying to get it right. Sometimes I do, sometimes I don’t. But I am now in a situation that requires that I figure it out sooner rather than later.

A lovely run January 12th was the start of it. In the aftermath of that jaunt along country roads, the back of my knee started hurting. I wasn’t too worried, giving it a rest and increasing my time in the pool and in the weight room. But it never seemed to get better despite running (or trying to) every couple of days. The pain never got better. By the end of January, it was hard to be positive, desperately missing the mountain trails and friends who joined me there.

February ushered in more of the same. By the time my sweeping responsibilities for a 50K trail race rolled around (course demarking for those who might be picturing a broom in hand), I took the “come hell or high water” approach. The 33-degree torrential downpour certainly provided the high water component (literally) and the hell part was how my knee felt by the time I finished the assignment. Ugh.

Yesterday I resigned myself to the fact that my “it will eventually heal if I rest it” approach was not working. Hence, I walked myself into an orthopedic urgent care. X-rays failed to show any bony structural issues other than mild arthritis. The provider suggested a steroid shot and a 30-day wait for another appointment and possible MRI. I agreed. What did I have to lose?

Despite a glimmer of hope, last night I cancelled my upcoming 24-hour race, a mere three weeks from now. Even if my knee makes a miraculous recovery, continuous forward motion for that long would likely not help. However, I have set my sights on other races in the coming months.

Now comes the hard work. How will I manage the physical and mental aspects of rebounding from this ill-defined injury? I will need to be smart, calculating, and strategic. I know there will be good days and bad. I must fight with all my might the enemy of inevitable discouragement. And I must see each day as an opportunity to be resilient in body, mind, and spirit.

Lesson to Self #4: Hardworking

 

For the last three weeks, I have written lessons to myself about the importance of intentional character skill development including thinking well, becoming disciplined, and using creativity to find effective solutions. (You can find these in prior posts.) Since I was recently a witness to an exemplar of these three skills, I want us to be reminded of the importance of being hardworking, which is contingent on a hefty foundation of solid thinking, discipline, and creativity.

 

Allow me to introduce Lang Wedemeyer. Lang is the current head coach of Liberty University’s NCAA Division 1 women’s soccer program, ranked nationally this past season at #24. Prior to that, he spent 17 years at the helm of South Dakota State following his own 7-year tenure playing professional soccer and standout collegiate play with the Virginia Tech and Old Dominion Universities. Since he has been there, done that, you might think that he can now sit back and rest on his coaching laurels, doling out demanding instructions from the sidelines. Right? Wrong.

 

Coach Wedemeyer has led the Liberty Flames to remarkable accomplishments. The young women are bought into his coaching methodologies and approach. They are constantly improving their technical skills and, from all appearances, have developed an extremely tight-knit sense of “team.” It’s a beautiful thing.

 

So, what is Lang’s secret? Certainly, his own prowess in the sport and extensive experience as a coach contributes to his success. But I want to propose that the team buy-in and performance is largely a function of the example he sets.

 

Coach Wedemeyer got up close and personal with the sport of ultrarunning when he moved back into the Central Virginia area, a hotbed for trail running. One thing led to another as he entered the foray of long, sometimes tortuous mountain trail running. He began to enter races with mileage totals unknown to 99.9% of the population. He even ran the entire length of the Blue Ridge Parkway (469 miles) and completed the nearly 500-mile Camino de Santiago in Spain in a mere 15 days. (14 days if you exclude his one day of rest. You do the math for miles per day.)

 

Lang is the kind of coach that leads by example. His players simply cannot rebel against his demand for excellence when he puts his money where his mouth is. He shows them (doesn’t have to tell them) how to be disciplined, how to accomplish hard things by grounded thinking, and how to be creative in finding solutions to difficult challenges. His hard work at maintaining his own physical, mental, and spiritual fitness leaves no room for a player to claim, “But Coach, you don’t understand.” He understands very well.

 

Yesterday I saw Lang in the middle of a 35-mile trail race. He got there by careful preparation and a healthy dose of hard work. He moved along with efficiency of stride and a smile on his face. He is the kind of coach that I most admire because there is nothing he will ask of his players that he is not willing to do himself. 

 

Thanks, Coach Wedemeyer, for the inspiration.

 

Liberty Women's Soccer Liberty University Liberty Flames Liberty Flames Sports Network Liberty University Game On

 Lesson #3 to Self: Be creative

The story goes like this. A young woman is cooking with her mother and sees her cut off the ends of the ham before placing it in the oven. She inquires why. “Well, my mother told me to do it this way because it’s better. Why don’t you ask her for the specific reason in doing so?

So she does. “Grandma, why do you cut off the ends of the ham?” She gets the same response. “My mother always did it this way. I’ve done it as well but I don’t really know why. Why don’t you ask your Great Grandma?”

Once again she poses the question to her Great Grandma. Anticipating a compelling rationale in cutting off the ends, Great Grandma simply stated, “My roasting pan was always too small. I had to cut off the ends to make the ham fit in the pan.”

Ah, so there we have it. A simple solution to a specific problem turned into the non-negotiable standard for future endeavors.

“We’ve always done it this way” is a dangerous sentiment that squelches objective analysis and creativity. Granted, the way it’s always been done could actually be the best approach. But then again, it may not be.

Creativity has the potential to explore options and expand horizons. That said, creativity demands an element of discipline to objectively evaluate pros and cons without digging in the heels to a preconceived notion of what is best.

I would do well to consider alternative approaches, to be analytical, and to objectively review the data before settling on the path forward.

How about you? Is there a process in your organization for which there is no good explanation for the way it is done? Perhaps I can help you think outside the proverbial box to increase efficiency and effectiveness. Feel free to contact me (rebekah@rebekahtrittipoe.com or rebekahtrittipoe.com) to discuss the possibilities.

#Buildingbetterteams

Lesson 2: Be positive. Think constructively.

1975

 Lesson 2 - Be Positive. Think constructively.

Last week I proposed that better people make better anythings. I acknowledged my need to work on being more disciplined. I’ve not been perfect but have managed to be intentional about growing in this category.

This week, I am committing to being more positive, which will demand good and useful thinking if progress is to be made. But if I can be transparent, the struggle is real.

I was a cheerleader back in the day. Ra, Ra! (Please don’t laugh.) We were expected to be wildly
enthusiastic on the sidelines, even if the score was upside down. That required a healthy dose of faking it because, quite frankly, not every contest played by the Pennridge Rams ended up as a W in the stats book.

Likewise, as a multi-sport athlete in both high school and college, successful team play also required an element of positivity. Not only for personal stability but being positive (or not) tipped the scale on how the team functioned as a whole. It wasn’t always easy, especially when circumstances seemed stacked against us.

I acknowledge that my failure to cross the finish line at a couple of 100-mile races was largely due to a head-full of negative thoughts playing bumper cares in my brain. I was suffering. It hurt. It would take way too many hours to finish. I allowed my circumstances to taint my thinking, eventually escorting me to the point of no return.

Even now, on a continuum that includes zero as the midpoint, I am often left of center. Frustrated with a nagging injury that makes training hard, my struggle for daily productivity, and miffed that there is nearly as much hair stuck to my brush bristles as attached to my scalp makes some days seem gray. When friends run faster and longer than ever before, I mourn that I may never again be able to keep up. The thought of being a has-been hurls me further down the negative lane.

Realistically, can I do anything about fast friends or long locks that seem to enjoy their individuality apart from my head? Nope. Hence, it would be futile to dwell on those things though it is so easy (and natural) to do.

But can I adapt my training to optimize what I can do rather than bemoan what I cannot? Am I able to be more intentional about mindful scheduling of my days to be more productive? Is a wig an option should all my hair decide to vacate the premises? Sure. These are simplistic examples of constructive, positive thinking.

You see, being positive does NOT mean that I am forever giddy and cheerful like my cheerleader self in days of old (1975). Rather, being positive requires three things:

1)     Understanding the reality of what can be controlled and what cannot
2)     Developing useful thinking to address the controllable factors of the situation
3)     Being disciplined in managing thought patterns and keeping perspective.

This week I challenge myself in continuing to be disciplined in tandem with solid, positive thinking.

Lesson 1: Discipline

 Lesson 1: Discipline

Better people make better anythings.

Specifically, better people make better coaches. Better people make better spouses. Better people make better teachers and administrators (like Steve Whitaker, Ph.D.). Better people make better bus drivers. Better people make better sons, better daughters. Better people make better photographers (like Collin Strachan). Better people make better electricians. Better people make better students. Better people make better athletes. I could go on and on and on.

Better people make better anythings because better people have better character—which then drives performance. Think about it. If someone is hardworking, resilient, creative, unselfish, honest, respectful, focused, trustworthy—and a myriad of other character skills—what will happen to the value they offer? What will happen to their contribution to the team?

I am committed to helping teams think deeply about the practicalities of character skill development. That said, if I am not personally devoted to growing great character myself, I will be a lousy facilitator. To that point, today’s focus is on taking the skill of discipline to a higher level.

When I was younger and running fast and furious (relatively speaking), I was super disciplined, juggling my roles as a wife, mom, and medical professional with a demanding training schedule. After decades of that, however, I am finding an unfortunate inverse relationship between aging and a disciplined way of living.

It’s hard for me to run long when it’s cold and rainy. In fact, sometimes I can’t even force myself out the door for a short run when it’s sunny. I fight with myself—and often lose—to get on the floor to do core work. I know what I should do but I have a hard time following through.

I know I am not as strong physically as I could be. Hence, I started a weight training program last week. I am publicly committing to practice the skill of being disciplined with this new task, understanding the likely carry-over to other hard-to-do things, one day at a time.

How about you? How can you practice discipline this week, even if in a small, incremental way?

Once the dust settles

We live in a house that was built about 135 years ago. Our driveway, a third of a mile in length, is an
unfortunate combination of mud, rocks, and gravel. Excluding the tiny house that our son and his wife built nestled in a stand of cedars, our nearest neighbors are the cows that graze on the far side of the rickety fence. It is country living at it's finest--except for the dust and dirt.

I probably vacuum the rug in front of the kitchen sink at least twice a day. Now understand, I am not a clean freak but once the dirt and debris carried in on shoe bottoms covers a substantial percentage of the surface area, I am compelled to do something about it. But that is not the worst of it.

When the morning sun streams in through the need-to-be-washed windows, a fine layer of dust is revealed. Coffee table. Countertops. Stove top. Everywhere. Even the air itself seems filled with tiny particles that take great pleasure in frolicking about. How does this happen? How can it be? Honestly, I try to keep a tidy house but those dust-laden sunbeams deflate my feelings of domestic competence.

So what to do? On the sun-drenched days I grab a damp sponge and swipe it across the dust-lined surfaces illuminated by the light, almost in disbelief at this new crop of dust generated overnight. I feel a little better once the dust has been captured in my sponge and washed down the drain. Poetic justice. From dust to dust...

But what about the mornings when it is cloudy and overcast, much like today when the cold mist and lingering flurries add to the length of icicles hanging from the tree branches? Is there any less dust compared to a sunny morning? Doubtful. I suspect that the ugly truth is this: The dust has once again settled. I'm just not as bothered by it because the lack of bright sun fails to reveal the mess.

Should I be bothered? Probably, though obsessing about it may be ill-advised. Still, there is likely a life lesson to be learned between the Brownian movement of the ubiquitous particles of dust. 

I tend to pay attention to the obvious and ignore the discreet. Perhaps I would do well to consider the not-so-obvious and address the situation for what it is.