Brian Clark And that’s just some of the folks who will be speaking at the Badass Conference on Thursday, January 26 and Friday, January 27 from 1 to 4 p.m. EST. Everyone is donating their time and services, including SpeechText Access, a brand new company that is providing captioned access for the conference. Bill Graham, founder of ALDA, put this access together. SpeechText Access is a company that trains people with disabilities and veterans to provide captioned access. Now keep in mind, the captioners are all new to this process and they’re donating their time, so we expect some blips along the way. But it’s a start, and they’re blazing a new path in webinar access.
badass (bad · ass) n., pl -es1. Someone who lives life free of any excuses they could make, no matter how legitimate those excuses may appear to be. 2. A person who doesn’t say “I can’t” even if everyone else is saying it. 3. A person who defines him- or herself by accomplishments, not limitations. 4. A person who realizes that there is always another way, and that almost nothing is impossible.
I was cleaning out my iPhone and I came across the photos that were taken the day of my Dad’s memorial. For as long as I live, I will never forget that brilliant sunset that streaked across the sky when Jen and I went for a walk that day. Perhaps I was just soaking in the energy of that day and my awareness was just heightened by a sense of loss, but I’m grateful for the gift of that masterpiece.
And how appropriate is it that I came across this poem that I wrote in junior high, while cleaning out my desk today:
I heard horror stories about physical therapy so I was kind of dreading the whole process after my ACL reconstruction surgery. The first visit went pleasantly enough. ”Oh, it’s not too bad,” I told my family and friends after the initial knee manipulation.
The second visit was a different story. I nearly jumped off the table when the therapist began massaging my incisions. One in particular was a bit swollen and extremely painful. “You shouldn’t be feeling this much pain,” the therapist said as she continued to press down on the incision. “Looks like you’re building up scar tissue. We have to work that out.” More pain. I held back a scream.
Then there was the famous “bending of the knee.” Despite repeated icing of the knee, mine remained swollen, making it even more difficult (and painful) to bend it. I was pretty darn proud of my 93 degree bend on the first visit.
And then I was introduced to the bike. You know that contraption– it requires more than a 90 degree bend to get those pedals going ’round and ’round. I pushed the first pedal down and tried to bend the knee to bring it back up.
Holy freaking moly! Pain! Worse than childbirth! (And I gave birth at home.)
I looked at the therapist and whimpered. ”I don’t think I can do this.”
“Just pedal slowly.” She set a timer on the bike stand. “Nine minutes.”
She stood there, watching me grimace in pain as I brought the pedal up. I felt like someone was taking a sledgehammer to the knee every time I reached the top. I made it up and over, but not without shifting my hip up and riding on my other foot.
“Good! Do it again!”
There was no way out. I just closed my eyes and tried to get into that zone– the same zone that comes from hypnotherapy. The breathing. The visualization. The knee screamed with every pedal rotation. There was no way out of the pain– only through it.
Just two minutes into the physical torture on the bike, I noticed a big shift in the pain level. By the end of the nine minutes, the knee was moving ’round and ’round at a much more manageable pain level.
On the next visit, I had a friendly little competition going with the teenager on the table next to me. She had the same surgery a day before mine. So we gripped our green straps and pulled our knees back, trying not to grimace as our therapists measured our progress. I managed to reach 112 degrees, but the young one hit 115 degrees of bend.
After spending the entire weekend icing the knee, I figured I would hit those numbers easy at the next therapy session. ”107 degrees,” the therapist announced.
“You gotta be kidding me!” I said. “What number should I be at by now?”
“I’d like to see 120.”
“Fine, you want 120? I’ll give you 120.” It took several tries and a lot swearing inside my head, but I hit that magical number.
The body’s first instinct with pain is to react and withdraw. To get far away as possible from pain. To not have to feel it. But ironically, to heal from anything, to give birth to something new, pain is a necessary component to growth. This applies to just about anything in life.
Physical therapy is like life. The only way to heal, to rebirth, to move on– is by working through the pain that’s holding you back.
“We must embrace pain and burn it as fuel for our journey.” –Kenji Miyazawa
Four years ago, Jodi Cutler and I connected in the blogosphere as parents of deaf/hard of hearing kids and bloggers. Her blog, An American Mom in Tuscany: Jordan’s Cochlear Implant Story chronicles her life in Italy with her son, Jordan. After years of connecting via the written word, I gave her a call and we talked on the phone for the first time. The ZVRS interpreter had amazing skills and the conversation flowed smoothly. I was so excited to finally connect with Jodi via phone.
After we ended our conversation, I quickly thanked the interpreter and was about to hang up. “Wait, don’t hang up!” she signed. “Are you a barefooter?”
“Yup!” I said. I figured she must have read my story in the media in the past year. She pointed to a picture that was propped up on a desk behind me. “I recognized Keith St. Onge!” she said. “He taught me ten years ago in a clinic in Ohio!”
Deaf World. Barefooting World. Bam!
Jess and I skyped one night and she shared her story. Jess was in fourth grade when her father bought a Ski Nautique and he taught her to water ski. Her father grew up on the Ohio river and he loved hamming it up on the water. “He could ski on a paddle!” Jess said. A year later, they saw a guy barefooting and Jess was fascinated. “I want to learn that!” she told her dad. So he went over and asked the guy to teach her. Gripping the boom outfitted in a long-sleeve wetsuit with a vest on top, Jess put her feet on the water and skied away. “I thought it was the coolest thing!”
And boy, was she hooked. Her parents bought property on a private lake. Jess wanted to learn more, so she taught herself. In the mid-1990s, she pulled up video after video of Keith St. Onge on the Barefoot Central website and watched them over and over. She learned the deep water start off the five-foot line through a lot of trial and error. Jess became friends with another barefooter on the lake, Ron Kara, who trained with Keith in Florida. “Ron taught me to barefoot backwards, I think in ninth grade,” said Jess. “I struggled with backwards– I couldn’t get my chest off the water. I ended up bleeding and bruised, but I wouldn’t give up.” It took Jess a year, but when she finally got up backwards on her feet, it was a sweet achievement.
Jess joined the Sea World ski show in Ohio when she was sixteen. Barefooting in a ski show was a whole other form of barefooting– Jess had to get used to skiing in all kinds of water and weather conditions. Ron brought Keith to Ohio, and he worked with Jess to improve her skills.
One day, after Sea World practice, Jess was sitting on a bench waiting for her father to pick her up. She noticed a girl sitting next to her and began to make conversation. The girl pointed to her ear and shook her head. “I realized she was deaf, so I remembered some sign language that I learned in second grade and signed to her,” said Jess. Hi, my name is Jess, she signed and fingerspelled.
That encounter unwrapped another passion for Jess. She wanted to learn American Sign Language so she signed up for a class. After high school, she went to the University of Pittsburg and then transferred to McDaniel in Maryland. She graduated with a degree in Deaf Education, with minors in education, deaf studies and art history. “I’m an overachiever,” Jess chuckled. After teaching in a public school, Jess realized that she wanted to work in a one-on-one setting, so she decided to pursue a Masters in counseling at Gallaudet University, where classes are taught in American Sign Language. She now has her own private practice: Counseling for Children and Young Adults.
“I stopped barefooting in college, but that summer, I wanted to get back into it,” said Jess. Her father did some research and located Dave Miller, a competitive barefooter near the D.C./Virginia area. Jess got back on the water in 2005 and continued to improve her skills.
I was so thrilled to connect with Jess and invited her to ski at the World Barefoot Center Women’s Barefoot week next year. An interpreter who barefoots– wow, that’s a path connected by a higher power! After we ended our skype conversation, I was thankful for one thing: my procrastination, project-to-project jumping, and disorganization. My nickname may be Skippy because of that, but if I had nailed that picture on another wall like I intended to do weeks ago, I would have hung up on that phone call without two worlds colliding.
Diego is two today, but the memories of his birth are as fresh as ever! Happy birthday Diego!
For six long days, Juliet’s labor started on and off. Every night, I tucked my phone under my pillow, waiting for the vibration that would signal the real deal. On Mon., Dec. 21, the phone sprang into action and I awoke at 6:30 a.m. to a text saying that the contractions were pretty strong and that the midwife was on her way over. We agreed to wait until the midwife arrived and then see if I should be on my way.
Juliet and I met a few years back, when her daughter, Paula, was a toddler. I worked as a deaf mentor in the state’s early intervention program and provided mentoring services to her family, teaching sign language and answering questions about growing up hard of hearing and becoming deaf. Juliet and I connected in more ways than one – we both shared a love of writing and an interest in natural birth. When Juliet became pregnant with her second baby, I casually offered to be a doula for her. She took me up on the offer. We met for lunch and discussed her plans for the upcoming birth.
Years ago, I studied to become a doula with the intention of making a career out of it. I had the honor of attending several births, including an amazing home water birth where the midwife walked in as the mom was pushing. My third child was born at home, but since I was induced with Cytotec, his birth wasn’t quite the “natural” birth that I had anticipated. I later went on to write an article for Midwifery Today about the dangers of Cytotec and a chapter in the book, “Don’t Cut Me Again.” As the years progressed, the idea of becoming a full-time doula took a back seat to my other jobs.
I was looking forward to attending Juliet’s homebirth that morning, but she soon texted to say that the contractions had stopped completely. At 4 p.m., her water broke. I ran into the kitchen and grabbed the ingredients for the soup that I planned to make and headed out into the rush hour. I figured it would take me an hour to get there, but the cars in front of me moved aside and let me pass.
When I arrived, Juliet was in the middle of hard labor but still smiling and talking. Joel, her husband, was holding her and rocking her back and forth. I took one look at Juliet’s legs and ankles- she was retaining quite a bit of water and her skin looked as if it would burst. I sat down to massage her legs and feet and get some of the swelling down. Paula was bouncing back and forth between the rooms, stopping to rub Juliet’s shoulder and then running off to watch a movie in her room.
“Are you excited about meeting your baby brother or sister?” I signed.
“Yes, I am!”
Paula chattered and signed and moved in circles, going from her parent’s bedroom and back in to her own. I could literally feel the excitement radiating from her. She furrowed her brow when the contractions came in waves and Juliet vocalized her pain, but quickly smiled when we reassured her that everything was moving along as it should.
The labor slowed a bit. During that time, Juliet’s husband stayed with her and I read a few books to Paula. After a while, I joined the midwife and her apprentice in the living room as we waited for labor to speed up again. The soup was cooking slowly on the stove and we helped ourselves to some dinner.
Juliet was incredibly tired from the six days of on and off labor and it was beginning to show on her face. She pushed in several different positions, trying to get rid of the lip that was stubbornly hanging on. She moved to the birth stool and slowly, the baby began moving down. It wasn’t quite fast enough for Juliet.
“Tell me you’re feeling some ears!” she said to the midwife. “You better be feeling ears!” The midwife laughed.
Juliet moved back to the bed. Joel held up one leg and I held the other and everyone gave some encouraging words. Juliet threw herself into every push, finding energy deep down for each one. “That was a good one!” the midwife said. I looked down and saw the baby’s head begin to appear.
“Juliet! Feel your baby! Your baby is being born!” I said. Juliet reached down and then gave a huge push. The head. Another push. The shoulders. Several more pushes. Then a whole baby.
Diego Ruben, at a hefty 8 pounds, 6 ounces, entered the world at 9:40 p.m. on December 21st. The winter solstice, a day that signifies the birth of winter and the longest night.
When Dave Ramsey’s signed copy of EntreLeadership arrived in the mail, I settled down for the night and figured I would read a few pages. Two hours later, it was one a.m. when I turned out the light. Yup, the book captivated me right from the start. Bill Kybels, a senior pastor from Willow Creek Church, summed up my feelings about the book:
“I love this book! One minute Dave sounds like a Harvard prof, and the next minute he is coming at you like an alley fighter! Either way you will wind up being a better leader.”
You cannot lead without passion, Dave writes. How true this is. The most successful leaders are driven by passion, and it is this passion that sustains them year after year. After reading the chapter on passion, I immediately thought of Hands & Voices. When I first joined this parent-driven organization, there were just three chapters. I agreed to start the fourth chapter– only because I saw the passion that burned in the eyes of Leeanne Seaver and Janet DesGeorges. Their passion mirrored my own, and I knew I found a home in this organization. If there’s a testimonial to the power of passion that leads, then Hands & Voices embodies it. In less than ten years, we went from a handful of chapters to world wide.
But back to the book. At first glance, one might simply think this is a business book about leadership, nothing more. At first, I wondered what I might get out of it– after all, I’m a mom, a writer, an early intervention provider and a board member. But then I remembered that I’m also a Send Out Cards distributor, and hello… that’s a business. And since I’m at the beginning of it all, I’m where Dave was back when he set up a card table in his living room. Dave calls this his playbook, in fact, he calls this a “championship playbook for business.” But I find that definition to be too narrow. When I turned the last page of this book, I realized it was so much more than just about leadership in business. It was in fact, a playbook for life.
Throughout the whole book, I found myself underlining bits of wisdom that I could apply to every day life. One of my favorites: “You are never too old. You are never the wrong color. You are never too disabled. You are never the wrong political party. There is never a big enough obstacle to keep a person with passion operating in a higher calling from winning. “ Good stuff. And it applies to anything in life.
You know what else I liked about this book? Dave opens up wide about the mistakes he made along the way and shows how he evolved as a leader. How many times have we placed someone on a pedestal and thought to ourselves, “I’m not like them, they’re so successful, so good at what they do, I could never get to where they are.” So we don’t even bother to try. We don’t push ourselves and test our limits, because we’re measuring ourselves against someone who has paid the price to get where they are today.
Not only is Dave a great leader, but he happens to be a barefoot water skier as well. Deep into the book, in a chapter about recognizing others, he shares a tidbit about Keith St. Onge, the two-time World Barefoot Champion:
“Because of our success and the media I do, I have been blessed to meet many famous and world-class people. A few years ago I met and became friends with the world champion in a particular sport. I was a little worried that he would be arrogant and instead he was gentle, kind, polite, and an amazing athlete. As we talked late one night at my kitchen table he told me of the untold hours and sacrifice his father had gone through to help him train through his teenage years. He humbly attributed his world champion status to his dad’s encouragement and sacrifice.”
Without Keith knowing, Dave sent a two-page letter to his parents, Claude and Jackie, sharing what he observed from working with Keith and thanking them for being great parents. “I was totally emotional reading it,” said Claude. “Having Dave compliment our son and us– well, I had tears of joy. I read it more than once.”
“When I got that letter, I felt so proud,” said Jackie. “For a long time, I didn’t feel that I had anything to do with his success. I was grateful that Dave took the time to share what he thought about Keith, that he expressed his feelings in a letter to us.”
The ripple of that letter goes on. When I first read a copy of Dave’s letter to Keith’s parents a year ago, I started to become more aware of how I could recognize and honor others in my life. I sent out cards, letters and emails and took more time to acknowledge the impact of those I’ve crossed paths with. And that’s what EntreLeadership will do for you– it’s not just a playbook for businesses, it’s a playbook for life. Dave ends the book saying, “Go make a difference in the way business is conducted.” But you won’t change just the way you conduct business, you’ll change the way you journey through life.
It was one of those weeks. Dishes piled high in the sink. Couch cushions skewed all over, with one of them on the floor. Paperwork in a heap in the corner of the kitchen counter. Somewhere in the middle of the paperwork pile sat three envelopes. School registrations, I reminded myself. Gotta get those school registrations sent in.
But first, I needed to jump in the shower and get myself dressed. The oldest kid had to be at football camp in 40 minutes. It was a 25 minute drive to his school. I quickly showered and headed off to the closet to grab some clothes. One look into the underwear drawer and I knew I was in trouble. All I could find were a large pile of bras, a misplaced sock and a bathing suit. My eyes turned to the laundry basket–it was over flowing. I was clearly out of underwear.
Scrounging through the drawer, I discovered bras that were past their prime. I kept them around for those painting projects that never seemed to materialize. You know, for those days where you don’t want to have a painting accident and mess up the pretty lace bras.
Digging through the underwires, my hand struck paydirt.
A thong.
Yes, a thong. A tiny scrap of material from my college days. I don’t think the hubby even remembered that I had one. Heck, I didn’t even remember that I had one.
Now keep in mind, I was zillions of pounds lighter in my college days. But here’s the thing, a thong is very forgiving of the flesh. Since there’s barely anything to cover, anyone of any size can get away with wearing them. Sure enough, I was able to slip the thing on and quickly got dressed.
By the time I dropped the kid off at school, I remembered why the tiny scrap of material went unused. It’s like having a permenant wedgie when you’re wearing it.
I went home and did laundry. The underwear drawer was quickly filled.
The thong went in the garbage.
This post originally appeared on the Chicago Moms Blog.
Meet my newest sponsor, Anytime Fitness Naperville! When I first met the owner, Mike Starck, he greeted me at the door with an outstretched hand and a big smile. As he showed me around the gym, I could feel the pride he took in his business. Mike generously extended a sponsorship so that I could keep up my workouts for barefoot water skiing. From day one, I’ve felt at home at Anytime Fitness Naperville.
When Mike completed his time with the Army in 2004, he became a personal trainer and worked for a large gym for eight years. He had always wanted to open his own gym and make an impact on a community. He researched his options and opened the Anytime Fitness Naperville gym in January, 2011. The gym is open 24 hours a day. The former Army Ranger has a big heart for his customers and he really wants to see them obtain an optimum state of health. “I never try to force anyone to become a member, I want them to want it,” said Mike. “I provide a place where people want to come to to become healthy.” Mike has put down the rifle and picked up the spray bottle; on any given day, you’ll find him in his business suit wiping down equipment and making sure the gym shines.
Mike’s military background comes in handy in motivating and pushing his customers to excel, but he does it with an encouraging, fun attitude. If a member hasn’t shown up in a while, he will give them a call to see how everything is going. “If they’re not coming in, then they’re not in shape and what benefit is it to them?” said Mike. “I want them to use it–I care about about their health.” Mike believes exercise is preventive medicine and the more you do it, the more comfortable you become. You can live to be 90, he says, but if the last 30 years is filled with pain, taking cans of medicine, then what kind of life is that?
Reflecting back on his first year, Mike has seen some amazing changes among his members in terms of weight loss and fitness goals achieved. He shares the success story of Michele Albert and Jenn Brown: Friends Share a Weight Loss Journey. “I like to see the weight loss, but more than that, I like to see the attitude shift that happens,” Mike explained. “I like to see their mind change– they make it happen– they exercise and they change their attitude about life.”
As for excuses for not having enough time to join a gym, Mike has heard them all. “There’s 168 hours in one week, there’s no excuse for not devoting at least an hour for exercise,” said Mike. “Individuals who are too busy for exercise as preventive medicine… well… there will be plenty of time later when you’re sick or you break a hip.”
Follow Anytime Fitness Naperville on Twitter: @AnytimeNaper
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