NOTE: This was originally posted on Facebook on November 2017 when I was in limbo over where long-form writing would live. It came across my memories feed today, and I felt like it needed a home here.

This piece still clearly speaks for where I am on my wellness journey. Also, 2019 update! I’m up to five shoulder dislocations, but I’d still bet on the 2019 version of me than the 2014 any day of the week.

Thursday morning was one of those times when the warmup for the workout left me breathless and exhausted, even after five minutes.

That happens, usually, when it’s been a big, long week and when my stubborn streak is the only reason I️ even walked through the door.

In case you’re curious…that stubborn streak often presents itself in the form of something cheesy and inspirational — but is deep down truthful. Coach Steve’s zinger from a few year’s back was the winner for that morning.

“You woke up too early to be average” echoed repeatedly through my brain, while I toyed with pressing snooze. It worked. I️ begrudgingly got out of bed… and as always, it was worth it. I left the gym that morning feeling renewed, but not just in the “I️ got a good workout” kind of way.

The programmed workout included deadlifts and pull-ups. I love deadlifts, but that other one is a movement that has been my Achilles heel since I joined the gym five years ago. And since the third dislocation in February, I’ve stayed away from all Olympic lifts with weight above my head, movements like rowing, and of course — pull-ups.

Steve and I️ discussed what my pull-up modification would be, which lead to a quick conversation about what life will look like when/if I ever decide to go overhead with any kind of weight or to be back on the pull-up bar.

Shoulders that habitually dislocate aren’t any fun. And as Steve began using science-ish words that meant my shoulder mobility would need to be safely tested before ever moving back toward that place, I quickly blurted, “You know… my feelings aren’t hurt because I don’t do those things.”

My shoulder was dislodged from its rightful space after being thrown from a kayak, but the other two times? I was doing a sit-up and reaching for a bar.

Those two moments are the equivalent of waking up in a panic because I️ overslept or reaching for a door handle the wrong way because I’m rushed to get out the door.

I’ve had to hit the reset button on training three times.

Three. Times.

We could revisit that stubborn streak for why I’m even in the gym at all anymore, but that’s a topic for another day entirely.

When we look at the scope of training as a marathon, life-long thing… the perspective shifts a good bit. I’ve written about this in other spaces, but a life of wellness isn’t a short-term goal.

Modifications in the gym don’t lead to being any less of an athlete or generate an instance of being weak. My limits have allowed me to improve in areas I was severely lacking.

And in the truest definition of you vs. you, I would put money on the 2017 version of me versus the 2014 version of me — bum shoulder and all.

When I was walking out of the gym that morning, I realized that the extension of that statement reaches far into the depths of my life and not just inside my safe space on Lincoln Road.

Because I overthink and rationalize things from front to back, I concluded that dealing with struggles and obstacles along the way — outside of the gym — have also stemmed from this place of owning my limitations and modifying to overcome.

And again, I would bet on 2017 Sam over 2014 Sam… every day of the week.

Years ago, Dad instilled this notion of adapting, improvising and overcoming as a mantra for dealing with the hard things in life. When you’re in high school and college, that looks a lot different than oh, say… your late 20s and 30s.

I’m downright awful at handling the emotional things in life and as I’ve gotten older, I’ve had to lean into that statement much, much more. And over the last year or so, there have been moments of brokenness that I really didn’t know what to do with.

Whether it’s a bum shoulder or heartache, leaning in is the hardest of hard things.

Leaning in allows for us to be upfront with whatever the issue is – which brings about a sense of understanding without clouded judgment. It opens the door to feeling the hurt and rationalizing that those feelings are normal — and that we’re never fully alone. It also sets us up, realistically, for the next steps of life.

And, all of that can simply be summed up with the fact that the journey of evolving is never over.

They say time heals all things. I don’t know who “they” are… but, I think they shortchanged that statement a bit.

Our actions and responses during that time are what heals all things, which sometimes means modifying and living within our limits. And when we lean in and brave whatever the issue is… we evolve into better versions of ourselves.

I’m not even close to mastering this technique, by the way… but I hope I get closer, every day.

On Sunday while at Father’s Day Lunch, I overheard my dad talking to my sister about a project my niece was working on. He said, “Tell her Pops said to suck it up and just do it. The sooner it’s done – the sooner it’s over… and then that will be it.”

It made me laugh out loud for several reasons.

1. I flashed back to every scrape, bruise, dread for doing something and hurt feeling I had as a child.
2. The concept of “sucking it up” and just doing “it” is so simple, but so stinking hard sometimes.
3. There’s not a single thing I’ve been faced with more in the past six months than having to do hard things, “sucking it up” and pushing through them.

Doing hard things implies that some encounters/feelings/moments in life are just going to be hard – regardless of the variables; however, it shouldn’t play a role in doing or not doing. Sometimes we just have to close our eyes, grit our teeth and power through whatever the “it” is.

To quote my favorite Johnnyswim song, “The only way over is through.”

If there were ever a mantra that was instilled in me at an early age – it’s this one. Even though it’s more apparent in my life now, it’s not new. It was repeatedly taught to me by my parents. My dad’s advice to my sister/niece wasn’t any different than the advice I got throughout my own childhood.

When I was knocked down on the soccer field as a kid, Dad could be heard from the sidelines saying, “Rub a little dirt in it and keep going. Keep moving. Let’s go.”

We also had similar conversations when a test was too hard, or worse when a friendship or relationship failed.

I wasn’t all that excited to hear that at the moment (rubbing dirt in scrapes and scratches burns, by the way). But looking back, it worked. And now, today, I still hear that voice in my head when I’m up against what feels like the world or you know – when I want to cry.

Even into adulthood, my life has been marked with all the “suck it up and keep going” moments. And over and over, I’ve learned in a multitude of ways that some things are going to be hard – they are going to hurt emotionally and physically – but the world will. not. stop.

Of course, the immediate satisfaction that comes from finally making it to the other side or overcoming an obstacle is the “hell yeah!” moment that many of us strive for. But lately, this isn’t where I’m hanging my hat.

Somewhere along the way, I have found that the lessons I’m learning when I do the hard things outweigh the “hell yeah” (although, I still yell it exuberantly because that just feels good).

My experiences of late have proven that when I sit down and reflect on how I conquered certain obstacles (physical and mental), I’m face to face with moments that contribute to being a better doer, a better leader — a better human.

MURPH is a hard thing.

When I set a goal to complete MURPH – a Crossfit Hero Workout (1-mile run, 100 pull-ups, 200 push-ups, 300 squats and another 1-mile run) – in a 14# vest by May, I knew two things to be very true:

1. It would be hard.
2. It would push the limits of my physical capabilities.

I’ve mentioned before, but if you’re new around these parts – I like a good goal. I like to quantify effort and measure results. Crafting plans and creating timelines is almost as exciting to me as achieving the goal itself. [If it’s at this point where you realize I’m a total nerd, no worries. You’ll get used to it soon enough.]

I have learned from prior years that I can’t just wake up and “do” MURPH – even scaled. Some can (high five to you beasts out there). And while I may be the neighborhood nerd that can help you write a 4-point plan to achieve your own goals, help you with your technological issues or plan an event from top to bottom – I am not a superhuman in the gym.

I was going to need more work than the average Joe. And by more, I mean a lot.

Lucky for me, I have a coach that often pushes me to set my sights on doing big things, to set the bar to make sure it’s attainable and then helps with a game plan to get me there. I also have a support system around me that encourages me to go after what I want. So I went after it, and the lessons I learned over the course of training have been way more valuable than doing the actual workout.

So, here I am… sharing the top three things I learned while doing one of the most mentally and physically taxing workouts I’ve ever completed.

1. The byproduct is often greater than the goal itself.

When I began training in January, I could not do a full military push-up repetitiously. I could knock out a few, but it wasn’t anything to write home about. Often, they made me so mad that I just stopped altogether (productive, right?).

Quick background of a jankety shoulder.

I’ve dislocated my shoulder four times since Labor Day of 2014. Once in a kayaking accident, the other three times in the gym doing normal things like… sit ups, reaching for a bar and reracking my barbell.

The first two times, I bounced back into push-ups like they were my favorite movement to do. But after the third time, I quit working on them. Starting over, what felt like constantly at the time, was a pain in the ass. And what initially started as a blatant disregard for making them better transformed into fear and doubt. “I can’t do military push-ups.”

Internal dialogue is my biggest enemy, and I knew this would be my weakest link for MURPH. And in true fashion, it almost broke me during those first few months of training. But, I stuck with it. I committed to knocking out several each day – 50-75 on high volume training days, 100 on low volume days.

At first, it was three or so at a time – then five… and in a short time frame, I was able to knock out 10 in a row.

In the gym, we often talk about the art of consistency versus the art of intensity. One will always outweigh the other, and nothing proved that more than through training for MURPH.

It was my job to show up and put in the work. While I did both for the opportunity to check off a goal, that goal is behind me. What I pulled from a consistent approach to training continues to move alongside me each day when I walk into our gym. And! The bigger takeaway is that doing hard things can produce results I can use in my daily life – overflowing into my work, my relationships and more.

2. Regardless of training, there will always be something out of my control.

From my last post about introversion, you might gather that I don’t love a crowded gym.

When MURPH day arrived, I agreed to meet a friend early so we could get started 15-20 minutes before typical class time. But, when I walked into the gym – there were SO. MANY. PEOPLE. I was overstimulated by noise, people and the thoughts in my own head.

It took several minutes before I could calm my brain down. I had to get to a place, mentally, where I understood that a crowded gym is an environmental factor and that it has no control over the training I had completed in preparation.

While I could not control the crowd any more than I can control the weather – I could control my attitude and my effort.

I encounter people, situations and moments every single day where I can’t control certain factors. But, me… I always control that. I’ve still got miles of work to do to control the looks my face can produce as an immediate response, but that’s another post for another day.

3. Having a “why” that’s stronger than the “what” provides for a foundation of purpose that is unrivaled.

Shortly after planning to complete this workout in a vest, I opted to tie my “why” to a cause I’m very passionate about – law enforcement + education.

Last year, I established the Blue Line Legacy Fund to help law enforcement officers, their spouses or dependents of to achieve their educational goals. To help with funding, I created an online fundraising campaign to go along with this workout.

For every $10 raised, I wore an officer’s name on my vest. With a community of people I’m so proud to be a part of, we raised right at $1,500 for the scholarship fund and I wore more than 40 officers’ names (both fallen, active and retired) in honor of the risks they take.

I said it then and I’ll say it again – NOT A SINGLE PERSON will care that I did this workout in the future. But, if one more person had a better understanding of the risks our officers take or if one more officer/family member is able to achieve an academic goal without a financial burden – it means more.

MURPH was the what, but the why behind it became personal and impactful at a different level. When I didn’t feel like training or when I wanted to quit, I put on the vest and I trained. Some days it was the very last thing I wanted to do, but not doing it wasn’t an option. My “why” meant sucking it up and doing hard things.  

Reality is full of a lot of hard things.

Honest moment: MURPH hurts. Assisted, modified, scaled, non-scaled, with a vest, without a vest – it’s hard any way you slice it.

At round six of 20, I hit that point (all too early) where I wanted to throw up. But at every corner of doubt and every “let’s quit” moment, I found myself digging deep to hear the positive voice in my head that kept breaking each movement down – step by step – reminding me that this whole thing was bigger than me.

MURPH isn’t designed to be easy. It was meant to be a challenge and its purpose was deeply rooted in maintaining a baseline of physical fitness while in a battlefield.

When we do hard things and we embrace the suck that comes with it, we prepare ourselves for so much more – whether it’s for the purpose of completing a goal, handling a tough work environment, navigating relationships or something equally as complex.

MURPH was hard. Some things just are. The question is whether we rise to the challenge, sucking it up when it’s hardest and making it to the other side with a bucket of lessons learned from the experience.

I’ve been a member of Versus Strength and Conditioning for a little more than six years. SIX YEARS. For reference, that’s longer than any long term relationship or any job I’ve held – and a hefty 55-60% of the time I’ve called myself a Hattiesburg resident.

I refer to them as my safe space, and I recently told Steve (owner and coach extraordinaire) that the 2012 version of me would have never imagined needing them as much as the 2018 version of me did need them.

He, along with Mike, Kellar, Matt, Jamie, Nate and Anna have all championed me through half-marathons, new skills and the never-ending rehab of a jankety shoulder. But more than that, they’ve helped me cultivate a mindset that allows me to push through the hard stuff – like in 2018 when the job got harder (and harder), my best friend moved (what feels like) a bajillion miles away and when Stella the dog died.

2018 wasn’t a complete jerk; but frankly, country songs have had better endings than those last few months did for me. Regardless – no matter how tired, sad or emotionally depleted I felt – I found my way to my friends in an aluminum building and at a train station who helped me push through the day.

I can’t tell you how many times a simple text message from a coach or our workout crew kept me from spiraling to the most comfortable, yet dangerous, space for an introvert: on my couch, alone. They kept me from internalizing and dwelling on the hard stuff. Instead, they provided an alternative solution by encouraging me to show up each day.

Long day at work? Show up.

Sad feelings about missing my best friend? Show up.

The day after Stella passed, I asked Steve if I could just come use the rower. I didn’t want to do a workout, but I needed to do something. He told me to show up.

At the very least, I am a rule follower. So, I did.

Throughout this season and like many others, showing up was the easiest decision to make and also the hardest thing to do. I had to trust that the rest would fall into place if I just got there.

Spoiler alert: it did. I made it to 2019 with my feet somehow still on the ground largely in part because of this place and these people.

I really shouldn’t be surprised by that. For everything that I’ve ever thought was too hard or unreachable, they’ve encouraged me to go, do and endeavor. While not always successful, my journey to being a better human has been chronicled through my relationship with some of the best coaches and people I get to sweat alongside.

Consistency is greater than intensity.

Thanks to the recommendation of a few coaches, I’ve been reading/listening to habit philosophies by James Clear. He specializes in how we build and maintain habits and how they play an integral role in achieving goals. Oddly enough, it all ties back to the art of showing up (regardless of the arena you are in).

He said recently in an interview on a podcast, “Be the girl who puts on her running shoes each day – not the girl who aspires to run three miles.”

I’m a list maker, a doer and a goal setter. I like crossing things off a list. I like being held accountable for doing what I said I would do. However, shifting the perspective from goal setting to building and maintaining an environment for success was a lightbulb moment.

Simply put – if we don’t prepare our environment for what we’re trying to do, we’ll never get to a place where we succeed.

With a job that produces tasks that need to be completed at the rate of water spewing out of a fire hose, I live daily with the expectation that nothing will be the same as the day before.

If I could paint a picture of total anxiety for someone who loves structure, boundaries and rules – this is probably it. It took me awhile to adjust, but it also provided an opportunity to build and create systems that help me prioritize and mitigate the day.

For me, that includes waking up at dark-thirty, putting on my shoes and showing up to put in some sweat equity for an hour or so before the day begins.

The alternative is a drastic shift in my day, I don’t feel like I can organize clear, cohesive thoughts, my energy levels are low and I’m downright grumpy.

Y’all, this is the equivalent of me showing up to run a race with only one shoe tied, completely dehydrated and my shirt inside out.

Consistently showing up has made a vast difference in my life throughout my time with Versus, but specifically over the last several months.

When I walk through the gym doors or find my way to the train station platform, I’m greeted with motivation to do harder things that continue to aid in building a better/tougher mindset to tackle the day ahead of me.

I joined Versus all those years ago for the same reasons everyone joins a gym – to feel better about myself physically. But, the reward of consistency over intensity has been so much more.

Trusting the process.

I have the patience of a toddler, and six years is a long time to see the other side. But, I think that’s what has made this whole thing more special. It’s also allowed me a better understanding of how being better emotionally and physically goes hand-in-hand with hard work and a consistent effort. For me, this translates directly to real life application.

I have some very lofty goals for this Spring: sub-27 minute 5K, a faster 10K and Vested MURPH are at the top. Weight loss is in there somewhere, too. But, I’ll never get there if I don’t show up.

In addition to showing up consistently, I’ve been putting in extra work after the gym and on the weekends. I’m also in the throes of better food habits. Rabbits don’t have anything on my ability to put down a raw bell pepper as a snack.

But real, honest moment? The scale hasn’t moved and some training days leave me feeling so defeated. What keeps me going is the fact that this is all about more than crossing a finish line and checking off a goal.

It’s about a lifestyle of choices that leave me feeling better and capable of tackling whatever is ahead of me.

Years like 2018 will always be around. 2019 may be better, but hell – it might be a repeat. Regardless – mental toughness, the ability to show up and do hard things, will continue to be the byproduct of the physical work I put in. All of which is only amplified by a team of people who continue to believe in me.

If you don’t have a Versus, you should find one. Surrounding yourself with people who can keep you moving even when you feel like you can’t is worth its weight in gold. Iron sharpens iron.