Built for Harder Ground

I have never been comfortable with easy. My dad was a Green Beret. He took classes but never graduated. Nobody explained it to him either. He knew how to survive things most people can’t imagine, but college paperwork seemed like the enemy to him.

When I needed him to review loan paperwork he couldn’t engage, not out of cruelty, but out of fear which showed up as anger. So, I took out predatory loans instead of emancipating because the guilt of embarrassing him felt heavier than the debt.

I figured it out. Two state schools. Three community colleges. Working full time, paying for every expense myself. There have been harder seasons since, but that one almost broke me. I’m glad for it now because it built me.

No map. Just a decision that my life was going to be different.

Our kids are launching and we are so proud. But #firstgen didn’t end with me. The patterns follow into the next generation. We’re figuring it out alongside them. We dig in.

But recently when I found myself in spaces where people with power were shrinking the circle, creating inner rings, choosing exclusion when they could have included, it didn’t just frustrate me. It cut me.

My entire life has been about bringing more chairs to the table. And I kept walking into spaces quietly removing them while smiling about community.

We used to inconvenience ourselves for the safety of one. I don’t know when that changed.

So I retreated. Not in defeat. In discernment (though it has taken a while). I left my gym and built one at home. I had to stop performing my strength for others and start rebuilding for me.

I started lifting and strength training not for a race, but for life. I am at 118 weeks. I am still showing up. Still doing the work. Perimenopause. Five (six?) knee surgeries. Five kids. Trauma. Adoption. Loss. I know my limits. I also know I’m not waiting for perfect conditions. I am dialing in.

And for the first time in my life I am not desperate. Not grinding out of necessity. Mike and I built something stable and I’m standing in it but trying to figure out what freedom feels like for someone built for harder ground. It’s uncomfortable. It’s also extraordinary.

I know who I am. I want to develop the next generation, create belonging, bring more people to the starting line, cheer loudly for people finding their way. I just need the right fit. The right table. One that actually wants more chairs.

But first, a solo adventure.

I’ve spent my life carrying weight that wasn’t always mine. Loans to protect my dad. Spaces removing chairs. Making sure everyone else made it to the starting line. This is my starting line. Phase three (ha).

This isn’t my first hard thing. 50ks. A half ironman. 100 miles on a mountain bike. Three days alone in the Colorado backcountry.

This is bigger. And I want the learning to be bigger too. No comparison. No performance. Just prepared.