Like a Drunken Vegas Nuptial

I am stronger than I thought . . .
and in ways that really matter.

Many of you know that I have been dealing with challenges related to an investment I made at the beginning of the year. In November of last year, I decided to invest in the gym where I worked out. I loved it, loved the community, and loved my coach. So when she needed investors, I quickly volunteered. Too quickly. I made an emotional decision and ignored all the warning signs telling me anything other than what I wanted to hear. I went against my better judgment and made the investment, partnering with three other people. FOUR partners! My goodness, it’s no wonder we could not make it work. Like a drunken Vegas nuptial, this arrangement went south in a hurry.

I have spent the last two months trying to get free of the deal I struck just six months ago. And two weeks ago on June 15, with Sheryl, my business partner and co-investor in Europe, the two trainer/owners quit without notice. I’m not a trainer. I’m not even a very good athlete. I’m just someone who loved her gym and her coach and decided to invest in it to keep it going during a rocky time. So to be abandoned like this – well, to put it bluntly, it sucked!

With the situation behind me and my interest in the gym sold to my former coach and business partner, I am now free to write about it. Here is some of what I learned from this experience.

I learned that I am strong. When the gym was dumped in my lap, I didn’t crumble. I found a way to keep it going until Sheryl could make it back to help me. I already knew Sheryl was strong; I just didn’t realize my own toughness. I’ve had a successful business career, and I know how to manage difficult situations, but there’s something uniquely frightening about being totally out of your element and having to sink or swim. Immediately. There’s nothing like being 48, insecure about your weight and physical fitness, and then finding yourself in charge of a gym of young, fire-breathing crossfitters. That first morning when I stood in front of the 5:30 AM crew to review the workout and shout “3-2-1 GO,” I really just wanted to run away. But I didn’t. I faced the challenge head-on. And when some in the CrossFit community turned their back and looked the other way when I needed them most, I dug a little deeper. When I received an uninformed email from a trainer and friend telling me that I "don’t have what it takes," I burned the hurtful words as fuel for the challenge.

I learned that support sometimes comes from unlikely sources. When this first happened, I immediately contacted trainers, asking for their help. But it was quickly apparent that backing up one of their own was more important than coaching and training clients. But support did come; some from trainers and fellow gym owners, competitors even. And a lot from regular people -- regular people with real jobs who CrossFit because they love it, who excel at the workout of life and know that real strength is strength of character -- the will to hang in there, not for 20 minutes, but for 20 hours. Or 20 days. Or 20 years. Real strength is honoring your commitments and your word even when it hurts, even when you want to run and hide. Even when you want to quit.