I ain’t scared

Two days ago I posted the following statement on Facebook:

Seeking Advice: Finn (1-year-old) has been sleeping in our closet his whole life. We were thinking its time to move him out of the closet... And into Wyatt's room with Wyatt (4-years-old). Wyatt will not be moving into the closet just incase that needed to be clarified. This shouldn't be complicated. I know I should just throw Finn in with Wyatt and hope for the best, but SLEEP - its a precious commodity I don't want to lose any more of. Current problems: (1) Wyatt sleeps with the closet light on, Finn sleeps in the pitch black. (2) Wyatt basically jumps around his crib (yes he still sleeps in a crib) making boom banging noises for about an hour before he falls asleep. I'm not sure Finn will stay sleeping during Wyatt's reenactment of Lightning McQueen's beat down of Francesco. (3) It's not unordinary for Finn to wake up at 5:30 whaling (it's such a wonderful moment when Ryan and I lovingly look into each others eyes and peacefully decide who's getting up, NOT). Wyatt sleeps till 6:15. Any advice on making the transition to the boys being in the same room will be GREATLY appreciated.

Although there were multiple hysterical and informative replies, one reply stuck out from the rest, Cyd Franken’s who is the wife of a wonderful man, Tao “Richter” Franken – a true adventurer with a devilish smile who passed away very recently at much too young of an age. Cyd wrote:

Tao and I chucked Trina into Kai’s room early… As Tao would say, I ain’t scared.

Let’s rewind here to four years early when I probably last spoke to Richter by phone. I was pregnant with Wyatt and walking along the wooded and richly green C&O canal just outside Washington DC. For reasons I can’t remember he had a few questions about Potomac Festival, a local whitewater event  – those were quickly answered and small talk ensued. Being as I was waddling along in my oversized state, and honestly, a little scared about what was growing in my belly, I asked Richter if I would survive parenthood. “Parenthood?” Richter balked. “That’s easy.” I laughed. Richter didn’t. He meant it.

I hung up the phone a little confused. Richter for all practical purposes had earned the right to have an opinion on parenthood. He had two kids that were at the time of the conversation a toddler girl and a young son who was already boofing waterfalls. He had earned his stripes. And yet, he was the only one out of all the parents I knew that was telling me that parenthood was easy…

Cyd’s reply to my Facebook post two days ago finally made Richter's answer of four years earlier make sense. “I ain’t scared,” a phrase I heard Richter say countless times from the back of the Proctor High School kayak van where he and my brother – two wild and untamed teenagers – would sit dreaming of their college days ahead when they would run huge waterfalls in between classes.  And I’m sure as the years went by Richter said it on his approach to the world’s tallest peaks and the deepest canyons. It too became a motto of my brother’s and mine. We would often quote Richter with an equally devilish grin before we headed out into the backcountry of Wyoming for a ski adventure, or at the put in of some wild river. But as the years went by I said it less and eventually forgot it completely.

When my brother called me a few months ago and could barely talk in between sobs telling me that his best friend, his roommate for years, and his true brother had died of sleep apnea next to his son in their tent on an innocent camping trip I was shocked. I didn’t move. I didn’t talk. I just let the gushing sobs from my brother bring me into his misery. I thought about his wife, his son, his daughter and I too sobbed at the simple fact that he was gone.

As I sit here now, I realize with no doubt in my mind that Richter greeted death with his wonderful grin and said, “This is much too early, but I ain’t scared.” And thanks to Cyd, I am reminded of how powerful this simple phrase is. Fear is toxic – it prevents love, it prevents humor, it prevents the true joy that can be experienced in life.

Before I posted about moving Finn into Wyatt’s room, I was scared! I was DREADING the pure exhaustion that would ensue from potential sleepless nights of worrying over whether Wyatt would smother Finn with a pillow, or chuck a toy at Finn’s head leaving him with a gushing wound, or simply if the boys would sleep. It’s the same stupid fear that consumes me at the entrance to the grocery store with both boys in tow knowing the all-to-soon melt down from Wyatt will emerge when I tell him we can’t buy six boxes of cookies.

But Richter’s phrase, “I ain’t scared,” snapped me out of this worthless state of fear. Upon seeing Cyd’s post I immediately went into action. I took a few necessary precautions by removing from the boys’ room all pillows and sharp-pointy toys that could suffocate or impale, threw the boys into the same room, and merely chuckled when I left their room and closed the door to their first night of sleeping together. And yes, I didn’t sleep. And yes, the boys barely slept. And yes, both boys and both parents were cranky monster after a night of no sleep, but the boys did have a blast laughing and playing together, and Ryan and I did laugh the next morning despite the fact we had to call the doctor at 5AM because we overdosed Finn on Tylenol. By all means it was a miserable night, but because I wasn’t scared I could embrace humor and the love from my crazy boys and as a result have the time of my life. 

I will never again forget Richter’s phrase because when Wyatt gets his drivers license or worse his motorcycle license – I just shivered and gagged – I will chant, “I ain’t scared” and beat back fear with a whopping bat.

Richter, I still don’t believe you – parenthood is hard, but it is a lot easier, and more importantly, full of a lot more love, fun and meaning when you’re not scared. Thank you Richter for always giving me that devilish smile above huge waterfalls and saying, “I ain’t scared.” At times I thought you were crazy. Now I know you were just smarter than the rest of us. I love you and I miss you.

To dear Cyd, thank you for reminding me of your husband’s most perfect phrase. From here on out, this Mama ain’t scared!

For those of you that have been touched by Richter's life like I was a fund has been set up to help support Richter's two children, Trina and Kai. Please click here for more information.

 

Impossible is just a big word thrown around by small men who find it easier to live the world they have been given, rather than to explore the power they have to change it. Impossible is not a fact. It is an opinion. Impossible is not a declaration. It is a dare. Impossible is potential. Impossible is temporary. Impossible is nothing. - John Maxwell, Tao-Richter's favorite quote

To view Sarah's middle grade fiction book click here: Paperback and Kindle

Plans Suck

Plans suck, but its June and everyone is graduating and everyone needs a plan!

I’ve always thought it was extremely important to have a plan. I don’t know if it was my parents, teachers, or coaches that told me this. Or maybe I heard it in my commencement address… Regardless, I thought plans were important.

When I graduated from high school at 18 – with the sun shinning on me while I sat charged and excited all dressed in white – I came up with the following plan while tuning out my commencement speaker:

Graduate from college with a 4.0 and make U.S. Olympic Team by 23-years-old. Retire from sport. Work fulltime for three-five years. Get MBA at Sterns School of Business before 30^th birthday. Then become the best financial analyst the world has ever known. That was my plan, and I was going to stick to my plan. Everyone sticks to their plan, right?

It wasn’t until I was 33 and in labor with my first son that I realized plans are worthless. You see, when you’re pregnant the doctor tells you to write out a labor plan that will detail how you want your labor to go. Perfect I thought – this is what I want: (1) No drugs – I’m super tough, how hard can labor really be? And, (2) I want my husband at my side caressing my head and counting the seconds during each contraction. Easy, right? Contractions are suppose to last about 60-90 seconds and then you rest for about a minute while your husband gazes lovingly upon you before it starts all over again. Labor was going to be like a 10-hour intense and painful mountain climb with my devoted husband at my side. PLEASE – at 7AM contraction number one started, and never stopped, or so I felt. After wanting absolutely NO ONE to touch me, talk to me, or even look at me, I had a baby in my arms at 9AM. I didn’t breathe through my two-hour-long single contraction – I screamed at the top of my lungs. Remember how I said I was tough and didn’t need drugs? Well I screamed for drugs while literally foaming at the mouth! My husband said I sounded like a crack addict begging for anything to just take the edge off, and no one brought me anything, and I was pissed!

My labor plan, just like all my plans, was worthless. Let’s scroll back to my original plan because as you can see having a kid at 33 wasn’t part of that plan. It was 2000, I was 23, and the Olympics were in three months, but first I had to make the U.S. Olympic Team at U.S. Team Trials. In the sport of whitewater slalom (my sport) one female from the U.S. would be able to race in the big games. U.S. Team Trials, day one: I crossed the finish line with the fastest time. I was in first. A good start to a three-day race. Day two: I had another great run going. In the last 30 seconds I crossed a wave, caught my edge, and flipped over – breathing water in the sport of whitewater slalom is not fast. My dreams of making the Olympic Team were over. Literally – in that split second when I flipped the first part of my plan I’d had since I was five-years-old was gone – gone.

At the finish line I was embraced by my brother who said, don’t worry there is always the next Olympics. I nodded. He was right. Maybe I could just extend my plan to include another four years of training. I was only 23. Why was I rushing off to Wall Street? I had about 60 undergrad credits left. I could finish college while training for the next Olympics and then get a job and then get an MBA and then become the best financial analyst in the world. It was settled – that was what I was doing.

Again – plans are worthless. Trying to make the Olympic Team and go to college at the same time was a stupid plan. I half-fasted both. I did graduate with a 3.98, but I missed out on key internships that would have greatly increased my career in lieu of World Cup competitions. And my training suffered greatly too. I showed up at the 2004 Olympic Trials a shadow of what I was in 2000. I still ended up second, but my rival who had beaten me in 2000 ran away with the Olympic spot and went on to win the Silver Medal in Athens (click here for my rival's amazing story).

Less than two weeks after racing at Olympic Team Trials in Athens, Greece, I started working at the Securities and Exchange Commission (SEC) in Washington DC. I was 27. I still wanted to get my MBA before I was 30, but I couldn’t get into a top MBA School without at least three solid years of work experience before applying. My plan was pushed out – I would work at the SEC till I was 30 and then head off for my MBA.

I’m laughing out loud right now – that plan was completely worthless. The ultimate plan ruinner happened – love. I fell in love with Ryan, my best friend and started dating him in early 2005. Ryan, having tried to make the Olympic Team as well, wouldn’t be done with his undergrad for another three years. I wasn’t willing to get my MBA in Washington DC. I wanted to get it in NYC where I would eventually walk Wall Street as one of the best, so my MBA got pushed back again. A marriage and pregnancy later, I realized that I was never moving to NYC to get my MBA.

In 2009, at 36 weeks pregnant, I threw out all plans when my husband and I moved to Hood River, Oregon, a tiny town on the Columbia River. I had my last day at the SEC on a Friday, got on a plane to Portland on Saturday, and waddled off the plane with my swollen belly determined to come up with a new plan. Surely I could still become the best financial analyst while living in Hood River with no MBA and a newborn…

Four weeks later when my labor plan completely failed me, I had my glowing revelation that plans are not only worthless, they suck. And I want to tell everyone this because its June and in June everyone graduates from either college, high school, middle school, elementary school, and even pre-school and each kid has to come up with a plan – their next move – their path to success. I have a great buddy that’s 14-years-old. He will be a Freshman in high school next year and he has to decide right now whether to take Algebra II and Geometry together during his Freshman year. If he doesn’t, he will not be able to take Calculus his Senior year, and if he doesn’t take Calculus his Senior year he might not be able to get into his college of choice, and if he doesn’t get into his college of choice, he might not be able to get a top engineering job, and if he doesn’t get a top engineering job, he might not be able to invent disappearing dog poop spray, and if he can’t invent disappearing dog poop spray, he definitely won’t be able to invent disappearing cat poop spray… (Did you ever see that stupid moive?) The later example is supposed to shed light on how quickly plans can get silly. Try this on for size: My 14-year-old buddy doesn’t take Algebra II and Geometry at the same time, and he doesn’t get to take AP Calculus his Senior year, and he doesn’t get into MIT, but he does get into University of Washington, and because he went to University of Washington and not MIT he met his best friend, and together with his best friend on one random night when neither of them had any plans of any sort they figure out how to reverse the acidification of the ocean and save the Great Barrier Reef.

My point is: Dare to imagine your next achievement when your plan doesn’t work.

Now, if you really most know – I still make plans because I do believe plans are important - doesn’t mean they don’t still suck - but they guide us, push us, and inspire us. However, if you are like me, be prepared to ditch them because all plans expire the second you take action. And in the second they expire, keep your mind open so you can see the next opportunity that is dangling in front of you.

PS – when your plans don’t happen the following side affects may happen:

1) Tears – its devastating when plans don’t work out. Many tears were shed when I didn’t make the Olympic Team. However, thanks to my failed Olympic attempt, I am that much more devoted to seeing my plans to become a writer come true.

2) Humble Pie – It doesn’t taste good, but when your plans don’t work out you usually get a slice and often emerge a better person. This year when my son attended Pre-School Graduation, my plan for the night did NOT entail my perfect three-year-old son taking a closed fist to a little girl’s head and making her sob. When I told my friend – who happens to be the mother of the 14-year-old that I mentioned above – she said the sooner you realize parenting is the most humbling and unplanned journey of your life, the better and more understanding parent you will be.

3) Revelations – Failure is a good thing. Every single time you fail, you do emerge with more knowledge and better chance of success in your next plan. Remember: Dare to imagine your next achievement when your plan doesn’t work.

4) Listen to your commencement speaker: I bet if I had listened to my commencement speaker she probably had mentioned something about the perfect plan never working out and how that’s a good thing:) 

Me racing at the 2004 U.S. Olympic Team Trials.

Me and Ryan in 2005. And yes, Ryan came with the 90 pound wolf-like dog.

To view Sarah's middle grade fiction book click here: Paperback and Kindle 

Dump Trucks and Princesses

“MAMA! STOP!” These were the words spoken by my then one-and-half-year-old son, Wyatt when we were driving home one day. My heart about stopped. I thought I had just run over a squirrel, or ran a stop sign, or did something horrible because the shriek in his voice was so urgent that you would have thought Wyatt was going to die if I didn’t stop. I quickly realized that nothing terribly wrong had happened; we merely drove by a construction site. Nonetheless if we didn’t stop and take a look at all the big machines driving around in the mud, Wyatt was going to start WW III with a world-class temper-tantrum.

I pulled the car over, got Wyatt out of his car seat, and in the rain (it’s always raining in Hood River, OR), we walked over to the fence line to see dirty – rusty – loud machines backing up, “beep, beep, beep, beep.” Going forward. Backing up, “beep, beep, beep, beep.” Leveling dirt. Backing up, “beep, beep, beep, beep…” I rolled my eyes – boring. Surely Wyatt felt the same, but when I looked down at Wyatt: his eyes, his face, his open-mouth-with-drool-coming-out look said it all – he had never seen anything so cool in his life. Dump trucks, skid steer loaders, forklifts, crane trucks – Christmas had come early! The site was a one-year-old gold mine!

Wyatt tugged on my shirt, insistent I sit down so he could curl up in my lamp and watch the amazing spectacle before him. Wyatt didn’t move and this was unheard of. He’s normally bouncing off the walls. If I’d let him, he would have sat still for hours watching these machines.

Visiting the construction site became part of our daily routine and I started getting into it. Wyatt would get his “big machine” fix while he sat in my lap so transfixed and so subdued that you would have thought I’d drugged him, and I would have about 15 minutes to check my email and social/media news sites on my phone – win-win for both of us.

Soon our house was FULL of toy construction equipment: the books we read, the music we listened to (Truck Tunes – check it out, “Forklift Boogie” is my personal favorite), Wyatt’s clothes – everything had a dump truck on it. And I didn’t think twice, I embraced the construction toddler obsession phase with open arms.

That is until one day at the construction site one of the workers came over to talk to us. Wyatt started quivering with excitement – you would have thought this guy was Santa Claus. I was going to have to get him to autograph our copy of Good Night Construction Site. Our conversation went like this:

            “I see you guys here every day,” the big construction worker said.

            “Yes, my son thinks you and your machines are the coolest thing ever.” Wyatt is still in my lap trembling with excitement.

            “Well, tell your son to stay in school so he doesn’t end up like me,” and the big construction worker turned around and walked away.

Wyatt, not really understanding the English language, merely kept watching. I on the other hand sat rather dumb founded. My initial reaction was: that was really harsh, I doubt he’ll sign Wyatt’s picture book. But as I sat there, I started to agree with him. If I could choose my son’s career, a dump truck driver was not in the top ten. Mind you, I believe machine workers have a legitimate career. They are the backbone of our society – they build our roads, our schools, our firehouses… But, its grueling work that probably takes a heavy toll on one’s body. We packed up and drove home.

Since that interaction I’ve often thought about Wyatt’s true obsession with dump trucks. He created this obsession. I did not. Dump trucks were one of the very first things he ever cared about. If his plastic dump truck was comfortable, he would use it as a pillow. And yes, I encouraged it by our daily visits to the construction sites and purchases of dump truck toys galore. But his obsession with big machines was all him. Which got me thinking about what I was obsessed with as a toddler.

I didn’t have to think long: princesses! When I was Wyatt’s age I wanted to be a princess. And believe me, my Mom did NOT embrace this obsession, or encourage, or create it. My Mom was a gym teacher, an original supporter of Title IX, and a proud tomboy. She cried with joy when I didn’t make the cheerleading squad in 6^th grade – trust me – she hated everything pink and princessy.

And despite my mother’s beliefs, I claim that my princess obsession (present tense, I still have it) is healthy. As a girl, when I was a pretending to be a Princess, I wasn’t just prancing around in a pretty dress – I was kicking butt and taking names as well! From my top bunk while wearing my rhinestone tiara, I was leading the free world! I was giving speeches that made grown men quake because I was going to take over the world and make it a better place! What were these speeches about? I don’t know – but that rhinestone tiara I wore made me believe my words were powerful and bold and were going to inspire millions to fight with me to save the world and then some. And as a adult, It has inspired me to worship amazing leaders, who whether or not they have a Princess title, are royal: Princess Diana (with grace and poise required by her British Royal Title, hugged children and adults infected with HIV at a time when most wouldn’t be in the same room with an infected human. She got in the mud and helped unarm numerous landmines littered across Angola), Michele Obama (regardless of one’s political beliefs, is an amazing leader who is using her title and power to attack childhood obesity), Sylvia Earle (A true queen of the oceans nicknamed, “Her Deepness,” has used her powers to accomplish numerous environmental achievements) – the list of outstanding royal women is endless.

And yes I agree with my mother, these obsessions can quickly become unhealthy – buying everything “princess” Disney makes is not good, and buying everything “dump truck” that Amazon sells is also unhealthy. Peggy Orenstein, an amazing writer, does an excellent job documenting how toxic the princess world can be. Please click here to see her blog. And she’s right, so many  “princess” toys are awful. But as mothers, we have the choice not to buy that stuff. We have the choice to guide our daughters’ princess obsessions to real princesses who are amazing. Just like I have the choice to guide my son’s dump truck obsession, by refusing to buy him every dump truck toy he sees.

The point of this post is: toddler obsessions are crazy. I have no idea why my son loves dump trucks, but he does and no matter what I do when we drive by a construction site he is going to scream to stop, and sometimes we stop and sometimes we don’t. And when I was a toddler, regardless of my mom’s persistent desire for me not to be a princess, I wanted to be a princess and rule the world.

A lot of girls want to be princesses, and a lot of boys want to be dump truck drivers, and is that so wrong? I don’t think so. I’m a proud adult that still wants to be a princess so I can use that title to save the world. And as an author, I write about an amazing eleven-year-old princess who, I hope, will inspire other young kids to become world leaders that fight for our dear planet.

So this Halloween I ask you not to roll your eye at every girl dressed as a princess. One of theses little girls you see with a tiara on her head might one day stand in a beautiful suit in front of Congress giving a speech that will for generations be thought of as some of the most powerful words ever spoken. But if you can’t help yourself, and you truly hate the princess obsession, then I ask you to only be fair and also roll your eyes at all the little boys who would be dressed up as a dump truck if their mom’s could figure out how to make such a costume.

Happy Halloween Everyone!

Big Smile,

Sarah

To view Sarah's middle grade fiction book click here: Paperback and Kindle 

Sunday Goodness: “We have the Power to Imagine Better,” JK Rowling

In 2008 JK Rowling delivered the commencement address to Harvard’s graduating class. The whole speech is incredible. Her opinion on the benefits of failure is something I agree with and have tried to encompass in The Ancient Realm. But the passage I have chosen to share here is not about failure or her other key topic, imagination. This passage is about all of our real powers to imagine and commit to making this world better.

Your intelligence, your capacity for hard work, the education you have earned and received, give you unique status, and unique responsibilities. Even your nationality sets you apart. The great majority of you belong to the world’s only remaining superpower. The way you vote, the way you live, the way you protest, the pressure you bring to bear on your government, has an impact way beyond your borders. That is your privilege, and your burden. 

If you choose to use your status and influence to raise your voice on behalf of those who have no voice; if you choose to identify not only with the powerful, but with the powerless; if you retain the ability to imagine yourself into the lives of those who do not have your advantages, then it will not only be your proud families who celebrate your existence, but thousands and millions of people whose reality you have helped change. We do not need magic to change the world, we carry all the power we need inside ourselves already: we have the power to imagine better.  Harvard 2008 Commencement Address: The Fringe benefits of Failure, and the Importance of Imagination, JK Rowling

Please click here for a video and text of JK Rowling’s whole speech. Regardless of whether you are a fan of Harry Potter, you will value the words of this speech.

To view Sarah's middle grade fiction book click here: Paperback and Kindle 

Sunday Goodness: it's a small world

Together with his brother Richard, Robert B. Sherman wrote, “it’s a small world” - possibly my favorite song. I’ve only been to Disney World once when I was very little. I don’t remember much of it, but I do remember begging to ride “it’s a small world” again and again. Robert Sherman wrote some of the greatest songs of my childhood including, “a spoonful of sugar” – a Marry Poppins classic that still brings a smile to my face. Mr. Sherman passed away on March 5^th. I thought it was fitting to post his song that he hoped would inspire peace and brotherhood amongst children across the world.   

it's a world of laughter, a world or tears
its a world of hopes, its a world of fear
theres so much that we share
that its time we're aware 

its a small world after all
its a small world after all
its a small world after all
its a small world after all
its a small, small world 

There is just one moon and one golden sun
And a smile means friendship to everyone.
Though the mountains divide
And the oceans are wide
It's a small small world

RIP Robert B. Sherman. You will be missed but your music will live on forever.

To view Sarah's middle grade fiction book click here: Paperback and Kindle 

Age Doesn't Matter

“Age is something that doesn’t matter, unless you are a cheese.” Billy Burke

I love this quote because at any age we have the ability to think of the next great idea that can solve the world’s greatest problems. And when it comes to the problem of the “plastic soup” of waste floating in our oceans that is the size of TWO continental United States, age truly does not matter.

If you are nine you can make a difference, if you are 70 you can make a difference. We need leaders in every single age group to take on the challenge of eradicating the “plastic soup” of waste.

Remember the first Lady Michelle Obama’s speech I posted on December 20, 2011.

“…leadership is not limited only to those of a certain age or status.  And that kind of leadership is not just about dramatic events that change the course of history in an instant. Instead, true leadership often happens with the smallest acts, in the most unexpected places, by the most unlikely individuals…” Original speech click here.

Today I make an aisle 9 pledge. In my local grocery store aisle 9 is where you can buy plastic storage bags. I will never go down aisle 9 again. We are all capable of small actions that together make a huge difference.

For more information on the “plastic soup” waste, please click here for an incredibly informative and gut wrenching article written by Jon Trujillo. Warning, this article is not for the faint hearted - its brutal and honest.

To view Sarah's middle grade fiction book click here: Paperback and Kindle 

Monthly Goodness: Life is Not Always Fair

In my biography on my website, I wrote that the number one thing I learned from racing was: life is not always fair, but fairness does not have to control your ability to be happy or your ability to succeed.

I think that there is no better person that has proved this point than Whitewater Slalom Olympic Silver Medalist Rebecca Giddens. Rebecca is one of my dearest and closest friends.

In 1999 Rebecca and I were both racing for the U.S. National Team at the World Championships in Seu d'Urgell, Spain. In the team competition we shocked everyone when together with our other teammate, Mary Marshall Seaver we won the Silver Medal.  It was a great moment for the three of us as we were the total underdogs and came out of nowhere. This moment, however, was quickly overshadowed by a horrible and unfair incident.

A day later we all raced in the individual category for the much coveted World Championship Title. In yet another underdog performance, Rebecca came out of nowhere and posted the second fastest time earning herself a World Championship Silver Medal. I will never forget looking up at that scoreboard and seeing Rebecca’s name only one down from the top. I sat down and put my head in my hands. I couldn’t move. I was so impressed, overwhelmed, and a wee bit jealous that Rebecca had accomplished something we had all dreamed of achieving since we were little. This joy was unfortunately short lived. Right before the awards ceremony, Rebecca was stripped of her silver medal by a judging call of the most unfair nature.

I will not get into why the judges ruled to remove Rebecca’s silver medal – the politics involved in this judging call make my fingers burn as I write, but I will say this: there had never been a judging call like this one before, and because the judging call was so unfair rules were immediately implemented to ensure there would never be a judging call like this again. Let me repeat, there was nothing right or fair or decent about the judging call to remove Rebecca’s medal.

Can you imagine having dreamed of this kind of success your whole life, having worked so incredibly hard, and then having put it all together in the race of your life and wining the silver medal for it only to be taken away hours later by a political call of spite, indecency, and illegality?

Rebecca could have let this moment ruin her – burn her up inside and make her want to turn her back on whitewater slalom forever. I’m sure she thought about it. But, instead she put her head down and started training for the next World Championships, which wouldn’t be till three years later.

In 2002 we found ourselves at the World Championships in Bourg Saint Maurice, France. Rebecca was no longer an underdog. She was now highly favored to take home the gold. The riverbank was loaded with spectators, the huge jumbotron TV was focused on Rebecca as she sat in the start gate. She left the start gate in a blaze and continued to fly down the huge whitewater course. When she crossed the finished line no judge, no coach, no competitor, or fan would ever doubt her result – she was clearly the best in the world, and with the fastest time, she now sat on the very top of the leader board. Three hours later she was crowned the 2002 World Champion becoming the first U.S. female Whitewater Slalom World Champion since 1979.

I want to drill home my point to this posting – unfair things happen to all of us every day. Life, like sport, is not fair. But my friends we have a choice: we can let anger consume us and blame our unfairness for why we never achieved our dreams, OR we can move on from these unfair acts and chase our dreams again. The choice is ours.

This will not be the last time I post about Rebecca. She’s had many inspirational achievements that I hope to bring to life in this blog, but the moment when her 1999 World Championship silver medal was taken away from her, was in my opinion, one of her greatest victories because she moved on and didn’t let it affect her desire and ability to continue to achieve greatness.

I would like to end this post with a quote given to me by one of my most favorite people in the world, Harriott Lumpkin Parker who just last year was diagnosed with stage three breast cancer at 34 years of age – life at its most unfairness. And yet when I saw her in the thick of her cancer treatment, she was smiling every minute of the day.

“Be happy, my friend for you do have a choice. You can sit and complain or stand and rejoice. You can waste your life with judgment and blame, or learn to forgive and understand we’re the same. For all of us feel fear and everyone knows pain, product of experience, no one’s to blame. So let go of your past your hurts and fears. Cherish each moment and love life while you are here.” unknown

 It is so hard to move on when life is unfair. It is so easy to sit and cry and give up. But do me a favor, after you have had a good cry, stand up and move on and continue to chase all the dreams in your heart. Easier said than done, I know, but 100% worth doing.

To view Sarah's middle grade fiction book click here: Paperback and Kindle 

Sunday Goodness: Tough Times

Every Sunday I will post a small passage that will hopefully give you something to think about or just make you pause and smile for a moment. Read the passage as a family at dinnertime, bedtime, or any loll in the day – you might be surprised by the thought provoking conversations that start after reading these inspiring nuggets.

“Some of my fondest memories in sport were a result of failure, injuries, set backs, or mistakes. I learned far more about myself and gained more character in those difficult times than I ever did when success came easily.” Peter Vidmar, Olympic Gold Medalist

So if you have a tough week ahead of you take heart in what Mr. Vidmar wrote. This tough week could help define who you are and make you understand and appreciate your victories that will surely follow.

To view Sarah's middle grade fiction book click here: Paperback and Kindle 

Power of Self-Belief

I truly believe human’s greatest super power is the ability to believe in oneself. I’ll prove my point by using one of my favorite moments in sport history.

It was the 1980 Winter Olympics and it was predicted by everyone that the U.S. Men’s Hockey Team would be crushed – slaughtered – destroyed by the Russian Hockey Super Power. In fact, just a few weeks before the Olympics the US Men’s Hockey Team played the Russians and lost 10-3! 

At the Olympics, in a stadium packed full of thousands of people, Herb Brooks-Head Coach said this to his U.S. players moments before they took the ice to play against the superior Russian Team:

“If we play ‘em 10 times, they might win nine. But NOT this game. Tonight we are the greatest team in the world. This is your time! Now go out there and take it!” Herb Brooks Foundation

Against all odds and all critics the US Team beat the Russians and went on to win the Olympic Gold Medal. The event was perfectly dubbed, a miracle on ice because it was a miracle! The US team was not as skilled, not as talented, and not as successful as the Russians. So you have to ask, how was it possible?

Simple, they believed – they tapped into the greatest super power humans have: self-belief. Just for one night, these 20 extraordinary U.S. hockey players believed they were capable of beating the Russians – they believed in something no one else thought was possible.

So for the month of January 2012 I leave this blog post for you to think about.

There are a lot of impossible feats we as a global society, a nation, a city, a town, an individual must achieve, but unless we believe we are capable of extraordinary events there is no hope for success – for miracles. 

I know that even when we believe sometimes we still come up short of our goals, our dreams.  But, I promise you this – you will have a far greater chance of success and happiness if you do believe in yourself. There is no greater misery than self-doubt.

To view Sarah's middle grade fiction book click here: Paperback and Kindle 

Leadership

My goal for this blog is to bring you encouraging news, moving speeches, and just plain great thoughts. For my very first posting I searched and searched for inspiring words and was thrilled to find this beautiful speech given by First Lady Michelle Obama on June 22, 2011 in South Africa to a group of young African American women. Below is just an excerpt of the speech that I thought was a particularly powerful passage about leadership.

“…I want to pause for a moment on that word -– leadership -- because I know that so often, when we think about what that word means, what it means to be a leader, we think of presidents and prime ministers. We think of people who pass laws or command armies, run big businesses, people with fancy titles, big salaries.

And most young people don’t fit that image. And I know that often when you try to make your voices heard, sometimes people don’t always listen. I know there are those who discount your opinions, who tell you you’re not ready, who say that you should sit back and wait your turn.

But I am here today because when it comes to the challenges we face, we simply don’t have time to sit back and wait. 

I’m here because I believe that each of you is ready, right here and right now, to start meeting these challenges.

And I am here because I know that true leadership -– leadership that lifts families, leadership that sustains communities and transforms nations –- that kind of leadership rarely starts in palaces or parliaments.

That kind of leadership is not limited only to those of a certain age or status. And that kind of leadership is not just about dramatic events that change the course of history in an instant. 

Instead, true leadership often happens with the smallest acts, in the most unexpected places, by the most unlikely individuals…”

When I read this speech I felt a little fire light in my belly. I was reminded that true leadership can be found in any of us, at any time, no matter how large or small our actions are. We all have the ability to make our families, communities, cities, and countries a better place.     

Click here for the full speech and a video of the First Lady performing it.

To view Sarah's middle grade fiction book click here: Paperback and Kindle