Middle Age Momma Takes on the Gym (or How I Almost Died on the Rower and Had an Epiphany)

I’ve started back at the gym recently. Nothing to stop the presses over I realize, but it’s a big step towards living life in a fear-less way.

Let’s be honest – gyms are intimidating as hell. All those mirrors, all those machines that may or may not have been intrinsic to the Spanish Inquisition, all those perfectly sculpted bodies clad in skimpy form-fitting Lycra, all those apparatuses that require an advanced degree in physics to operate. I walk in and feel like mushy mere mortals such as myself have as much business here as we do traipsing through the marbled halls of Mount Olympus with Zeus and his gang of Greek gods.

The negative little voices start up in my mind (you know the ones) – you’re not fit enough, you’re not thin enough, your workout clothes are older than Jazzercise, you’re going to make a fool of yourself,  you don’t belong here.  

And there it is – Fear, creep, creep, creeping up to rain self-doubt and loathing down upon my psyche. Fear trying to maintain the status quo and boundaries I’ve created around my life. Fear trying its damnedest to keep me under its control.

Stupid Fear.

But then my practical brain kicks in to remind me I’d taken advantage of the opening special and have prepaid for four months (and received two months free!) so there was no backing out. Crap.

I steel myself for utter humiliation. May as well get it over with, I tell myself. Get in, sweat like a Sumo wrestler in a Swedish sauna and get out before I have to make eye contact with anyone.

So far so good. No one has tripped over their Nikes yet wondering how I snuck in or fallen off the Stairmaster snickering at my running shorts from 1999 (having a design resembling confetti  exploding all over your butt was considered the height of active wear fashion back then, thank you very much).

The staff are helpful, seem genuinely nice and make a point to learn my name.Of course, they are paid to make everyone feel good but it lulls me into a sense of security.  Feeling pretty pretty good. I see my friend who runs 1,000 km a day. She’s thrilled I’m getting physical, maybe secretly hoping I’ll become her running buddy. Sure, if they give out bionic legs and lungs to keep up with her. I run into someone else I know. He’s the Costa Rican version of a Runner’s World cover model. He smiles and wishes me a buenos dias . OK, so maybe I may just get out of this with my dignity still in one piece.

Then I get talked into trying the daily challenge they’re hosting for prizes. My competitive streak rises to the fore – once an athlete, always an athlete I guess and I’m not about to step away from a goal just because the most active thing I’ve done these  past months is running my mouth off. Game on!

“It’s easy”, says Marathon-mom friend. “Row 400 meters in two minutes.”

Sure it is. You’re an Amazon Queen in Spandex. Me, not so much. Two minutes, I calculate, is enough time to possibly cough up a lung but probably not enough to cause cardiac arrest. I think I can do this. I watch the first two ladies try. We cheer them on, hoping our cries of ‘si se puede’  will somehow heave a Rocky-esque victory of body over machine out of their struggling souls. One concedes her failure to the Mighty Rowmaster after a minute and the other squeaks in at the 1:59 mark.

Suddenly, I’m thinking I’ve over-estimated exactly how much I can push this 50-year old body before it tells me to piss off. And right about then, my old friend Fear shows up. You’re  not fit enough,  she whispers wickedly.  You’re going to fail in front of all these people.

You’ve become old. 

And there it is, out in the open. I’m afraid I’ve become a shadow of my younger, fitter, more flexible self. In my mind, I’m still the young girl who ran circles around the track, the young woman who was captain of the varsity fencing team, the woman who made her living through dance. I pushed my body to be faster, higher, better and it complied. Nothing seemed impossible and failure wasn’t even a consideration. There was no try, only do. And I thought I’d be that way forever.

Being here, surrounded by mirrors and machines to push my body in ways it hasn’t in years, in ways it protests against or outright refuses to cooperate with, I have no choice but to face the reality that I’m no longer that young woman.  My youth has slipped away, leaving in its wake middle age. And that’s what scares me. Not the baby belly I’m still carrying around eight years after my daughter’s birth, not the fact I can’t run 10km without needing a medic nor that I need to lower the weights my trainer had optimistically set for my maiden work out (bless him for thinking I’m that strong).

I have a choice – admit defeat and live in the shadow of what was or take up the challenge and move onto the next chapter of Life.

Onto the rower. Count down and…go! I start off strong. Ha! I’ll show Fear and Señor Rowmaster who’s Boss!

Thirty seconds later, the fatigue hits. Who am I kidding? This is killing me! Another minute and a half? What the hell was I thinking?

Fear dances delightedly. She’s winning by my defeat. A lung feels like it’s migrating North…

“Don’t you DARE stop.”

Marathon-mom’s sensing my weakening and isn’t standing for it. All muscles and purple spandex, I’m not about to broach her, despite the fact I think I may start to hack up blood.

Now everyone is rallying behind me, urging me onwards, counting down the final meters. So…close…

I feel my head beginning to swim, my breath like hot lava in my lungs, my arms and legs over-cooked spaghetti from an Olive Garden in Des Moines. This mortal coil is 10 seconds away from being shucked off.

And then I’ve passed the finish line. With eight seconds to spare.

“I knew you could do it,” beams Marathon-mom.

Just like that, I’ve done what I thought I couldn’t. Others saw my potential but my little friend Fear had convinced me otherwise. As I collapse in a sweaty, heaving heap, I realize that listening to Fear holds us back from so much. We give in to its deceptions, stopping before we ever start. And by not doing anything, Fear wins.

Life is about doing. Like a shark, Life needs to keep moving forward or it dies. Progressing in Life means gaining years so getting older isn’t failure – it’s fact. Nothing stays the same  and aging requires that we adapt and adjust. No one is immune to Time and to expect otherwise is just nuts, despite what the beauty creams and plastic surgeons say.

As my breathing returned to normal and feeling returned to my noodley legs, I had a flash of insight. Fear doesn’t want us to let go of the comfortable past while Life needs us to move forward, into the adventure of the unknown. We will never have this day or hour or minute again so trying to hold onto the past is futile. We’ll never be that young girl/boy or woman/man we were because Time has marched us into the Future. They no longer exist because a newer version of ourselves has replaced them. Rather than struggling to hold onto those outdated versions of ourselves, we must open the space for the new, improved us and release the idea that we will ever be what we once were. Comparing our current selves against what we were takes us into Norma Desmond territory, frozen in a crazed time capsule complete with pet monkeys.

I look forward to the gym now, to what my body accomplishes on its daily adventure, seeing the supportive group of folks doing their best to improve little bit by little bit.  I’ve made peace with the mirror  – the workout clothes may look the same as they did back in the day but the body wearing them doesn’t and never will again. Nor is the body capable of what it was 15 years ago. And that’s OK because I’m excited to see what I can do, how I’m changing and where this swimming shark of Life is taking me.

Maybe I’ll buy some new gym shorts to celebrate.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Three Letters That Can Save Your Business

Ah, yes, the one thing that can strike fear into the heart of the most experienced business owner – dealing with a client who wants a discount. *cue music from the shower scene in Psycho  

You don’t want to turn the client down outright as that could be a deal killer but baby needs new shoes and those Louboutins ain’t cheap. It’s all part of the negotiation dance, you tell yourself. If I don’t give in, I’ll lose the sale/contract/opportunity. Rent is due and my calendar is light this month. If I say no, they’ll tell someone else that I’m difficult to work with/too expensive/inflexible and I’ll never work in this town again.

Next thing you know, you’ve tumbled into full-throttled oh-my-god-I-need-this-gig-or-else-I’m-doomed panic, triggering memories of being dateless four hours before Homecoming so you said”yes” to the first offer uttered by some other desperate outcast so you could  go to the damn dance with a date and not look like desperate outcasts to everyone else.

You give in, breathlessly offering the discount. Life can now carry on. Crisis averted. Client is happy, you’re happy, everything is fine.

Except it’s not.

You’ve just opened Pandora’s Box  – and it’s not the one with cute little charm bracelets. What you’ve done is confirm the client’s belief that you were overpriced. That you were really desperate for the gig because no one else is hiring you.  You’ve given them even more power in the client/seller dynamic because you didn’t value what you bring to the table at face value so your client isn’t going to either. They are going to feel that they are owed more from you because you’re charging too much or that they threw you a bone by hiring you at your darkest hour. And this is not a healthy position for either party to work from because everyone ends up frustrated and far from satisfied –  similar to trying to make nooky at 3 AM after a night of imbibing double shots of tequila. No one is coming away happy.

If you don’t value your services or product, no one else will. 

That’s not to say you can go ahead and charge five gazillion dollars and call it a day (unless you’re Superman and then you can charge whatever you want because hey! superpowers).  Whatever you’re offering has to be priced in that sweet spot where it’s fair value yet you’re making a profit (and if you’re not or just breaking even, we need to talk).

Don’t be afraid to be firm with your pricing. If clients are asking for a discount, it’s for one of two reasons (and it’s rarely really about the money):

a) they don’t fully understand the value of your service or product, in which case you’ll want to walk through your sales and marketing materials and process to see where you can amplify the benefits of what you’re offering

b) they are the type of customer who always asks for a discount regardless of what they are purchasing. It’s not you – it’s them. Really.

For example, I’m a wedding planner and I’m always amazed by couples who ask for a discount because it’s their wedding day. “That’s wonderful”, I want to say. “All of my clients are also having their wedding day and if I or any of the other wedding professionals you’re wanting to hire were to give discounts to brides and grooms, we’d all  be out of business faster than a butcher shop at a vegan commune.”

So how to handle this discount dance of doom so you don’t lose the sale and don’t upset the customer?

I’ll let you in on a small but powerful word that only has three little letters.  A word so powerful, it can save you money, stress and premature greying.

W H Y

Ask your customer why they believe they should receive a discount.

It’s really that simple. By throwing the question back to them, they have to come up with a reason why the want you to lower your pricing. You’ve not said no or yes but you have  made them think through exactly why they want your services or goods for less than what you’re asking.

More often then not, they likely will say something like “oh, never mind” and  pay full price.

Perhaps you’re a bit out of their budget. Rather than discount, offer a value-added service. For example, if someone asks me for a discount, I’d explain that I’m not able to lower my fees for their wedding but I’d be happy to include services to research possible restaurants for a welcome  dinner and set up the reservation for them free of charge. By including some sort of value-added service, the customer feels their request has been acknowledged, they’ve gained additional value yet you’ve maintained your full price-point. Win/win for everyone.

Can they truly not afford you? Recommend someone else who is at their price point. You may not get the sale but you’ve helped someone who may become your customer down the road or could very well refer you to someone else. Successful businesses are built on goodwill and relationships, especially in this era of social media (in other words, don’t get huffy over the discount request but take the high road and be a helper).

And if the customer doesn’t fit with you, that’s fine.  It’s far better to have one great customer for your offering than three that don’t fit as in the end, the time and stress are going to cost you more than what you’ve gained with the sale.

Knowing when to walk away from a sale takes a guts and it’s one of the hardest things you’ll do as an entrepreneur but one of the best for your business.

Fear-less and profit more. Go for it.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Fear Itself

“The only thing we have to fear is fear itself.” Franklin D. Roosevelt 

I love this quote. I mean, I REALLY love this quote because it reaches far beyond the platitudes you find on posters with eagles on a mountain top or well-manicured office types high-fiving each other in perfect lighting (and really, who sees one of those posters and does anything other than an eye roll?).

I love it because it sums the human psyche up in one succinct sentence: what we fear is fear. That’s it. There is no bogeyman other than what our mind has conjured. Fear is not a tangible thing – it’s a feeling. Nothing more than feelings. And last time I checked, feelings can be hurt but they can’t cause bodily injury.

Since the time our ancestors had a functioning brain, humankind has been hardwired to be afraid. This fight or flight response has kept our species from being eaten by alligators, or bears, or Tyrannosaurus Rex (OK, kidding about that last one) and considering we’ve lasted this long, it’s worked pretty well. Flash forward a few millennia – the biggest threat to our existence now is largely our own stupidity (looking at you, texting and driving), yet we are still programmed to be afraid. From helicopter parents freaking out Johnny might fall off the monkey bars to convincing yourself you’ve contracted (insert latest health hazard from the news), everyone is terrified.

Terrified to ask for a raise… because your boss might say “no”.

Terrified to ask that cute girl out… because she might reject you.

Terrified to leave an abusive relationship… because you don’t know where to go for safe haven.

Terrified to travel… because there might be a terrorist attack.

Terrified that some SOMETHING catastrophic is going to befall you.

Fear is that little voice,  incessantly whispering dark thoughts and doubts into your ear like an annoying mosquito at 3AM that no matter how many times you swat yourself in the head, it’s still there, buzz buzz buzzing until you think you’ll go mad. It’s the little voice paralyzing you into terrified silence as it  drips acid onto your dreams, delighting as they sizzle away into the void.

So we stay “safe”, shunting our dreams aside. We stay ‘safe’ by not taking a risk or stepping outside of the neat boxes our lives are organized in. We stay ‘safe’ by never really doing what we truly want to do. Our dreams, like neglected flowers on a vine, wither and die.

By staying safe, we never really live.

When FDR gave his famous speech in 1932, the USA was at the depth of the Great Depression. He didn’t trot out banalities or truisms to make people feel better. Rather, he got to the heart of the matter that yes, life sucks right now but it’s nothing that can’t be overcome.

First of all, let me assert my firm belief that the only thing we have to fear is fear itself-nameless, unreasoning, unjustified terror which paralyzes needed efforts to convert retreat into advance. 

He may have said these words over 80 years ago but they still ring true today. Fear paralyzes us from moving forward. Fear causes us to stay stuck. Fear screws up our lives.

FDR’s words gave the country the hope and strength to overcome its darkest days, which lead to the most prosperous decades the USA has ever known, the halcyon years when the entire world turned its weary eyes to the Home of the Brave to be amazed by the vigor, the can-do attitude, the sheer audacity of believing anything was possible. A man on the moon? Boom. Done. What’s next.

From fear to fearless.

Fear is unreasonable and it’s unjustified. It’s nothing more than the outdated program in our brains looking for a thrill. Your brain wants excitement? Go on a roller coaster or watch a scary movie but don’t let your brain cripple your heart.  Tell that voice of fear to shut. the. hell. up.

Ask for the raise…because they could say no but they could very well say yes.

Ask the girl out…because she could laugh and politely say no or she could end up being your soul mate.

Pack up and leave the jerk…because there are friends, family, social services out there to help you start a new, happier chapter in your life.

Get on the plane and explore new places…because there’s more chance of choking to death on a creamy gelato in Rome than being caught up in extremists’ diabolical plans for world domination.

Go. Do. Live.

Outsmart that brain, look at your fear and laugh in its face. After all, what do you really have to fear other than fear itself?