Recently I sat with a friend as we watched his nine-year-old daughter
compete in a gymnastics competition. Standing only four-feet-eight
inches tall, she walked straight out onto the floor after her name was
called and nailed her routine. Then she returned calmly to her place on
the bench with all the other gymnasts, back ramrod straight, head held
high. I turned to look at my friend, amazed by his daughter's poise and
confidence. "Don't look at me," he said with a shrug. "I don't know
where she gets it!"
Entries Tagged as 'Stretch'
Last month, I lined up for the Boston Marathon, running on behalf of the Run For Research Team
(thank you to all those who kindly donated). What amazes me is that
even though I’ve run this race before and have completed dozens of other
marathons in the past, still, there is always that tiny seed of doubt
right before the gun goes off. Some little part of me that does not
fully believe I can finish the distance ahead of me. Sure, it says,
maybe you crossed the finish line before, but what have you got today?
I believe all worthwhile endeavors are like this.
And the more important that challenge is to you, the greater the doubt and risk of failure will be. The Wright Brothers did not know for certain that manned flight was possible before they actually did it. A series of near fatal disasters and financial setbacks preceded their eventual success. But on the morning of December 17th 1903, with a few jerky movements, Orville Wright finally coaxed the ungainly Wright Flying Machine into the air. It was a courageous leap of faith that lasted all of twelve seconds, covering a distance of only 120 feet. But it changed forever the course of history.
I was born and raised in Roseland, where my mother still resides.
Upon visiting her last week, I was reminded that the annual “Run For
The Roses 5K” is scheduled for this coming weekend, an event that I
hold dear to my heart.
As a young girl, this was the very first
race I attempted to run, and although I had to walk a good portion of
it, I recall the encouragement I received from another runner that day.
Last weekend, on a beautiful Spring Day, I stopped briefly to watch a scene unfold on a baseball diamond in the middle of Central Park. Two local teams faced off in a hotly contested Little League game (this is New York – everything is hotly contested!). 
As one young boy got up to bat, I noticed his father pacing nervously near the dugout, yelling out instructions. When he finally struck out, costing his team the game, the young boy threw his bat against the fence in a fit of pique, and stormed off the field. The father tried in vain to console him. “But I already told you,” the boy admonished his father, “I’m no good at this! Forget it. I can’t.” Now I’m sure this young boy was good at lots of things, but in this moment, he felt like a total failure.
When I was a sophomore at Boston College, feeling lost in a sea of
J.Crew-clad students and thrown off by a breakup with my first real
boyfriend, I decided to take up running. Because I’m the kind of person
who doesn’t like doing things by halves (or getting dumped, for that
matter), I set a goal that would answer any lingering doubts I had
about myself. I would do more than just start running. I’d take on the
beast: the Boston Marathon.
The first time I went for a run, I could barely breathe. I’d never done
track, never played a competitive sport, and almost didn’t make it to
the end of the block. But I wanted desperately to do this, to do
something extraordinary. So I just kept going out. And while I couldn’t
make it around the block at first, the next time I’d get as far as the
fire hydrant, then the tree. Little by little, I began to see hopeful
signs. I started to think, maybe I can do this.
After months of hitting the pavement daily, plugging away even through
bone-chilling Boston sleet and biting wind, I did complete that
marathon. Sixteen years later, I’ve run more than 40 such races
worldwide: New York, Chicago, Berlin, Stockholm, Dublin, and St. Louis,
to name a few. The act of training for and running marathons has taught
me so much about what it takes to set a goal, maintain focus, and
follow through and I’ve drawn on these lessons countless times in all
areas of life.
Now, in my work as a life and career coach, I help clients who, like
me, struggle with finding motivation. And guess what? The marathon
metaphor serves as a great teacher. You don’t have to run one to know
what resistance feels like. No matter what your particular finish line,
the lessons ring true. Try these strategies to help you meet your own
goals in stride. 

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