CHAPTER 7 HOW DO I START?
Reap the Rewards of Being a Beginner
When my kids were young, they loved The Magic School Bus. The Magic School Bus was first a series of books designed to get kids excited about science topics. After that, it became a cartoon series on PBS. Many afternoons, I’d watch alongside them as Ms. Frizzle, the eccentric science teacher with the fabulous science-inspired outfit, would take the class on field trips. They weren’t your typical go-to-the-zoo field trips; these field trips were pure science magic.
Within seconds of loading onto the bus, that magical school bus would transform into part of the latest science topic. If they were studying the water cycle, the bus (and the kids) would become raindrops. If they were learning about the human body, they’d be swallowed and would journey down the esophagus, into the stomach, and through the intestinal tract. If the lesson was about bugs, they’d become a butterfly—in all its life stages. The Magic School Bus brought science to life, and instead of memorizing science facts, kids were given permission to imagine. At some point during every episode, Ms. Frizzle would tell her class, “Take chances! Make mistakes! Get messy!”
Do you know what Ms. Frizzle was really saying?
Be a beginner.
Kids, of course, have permission to be beginners. After all, they’re at the beginning of life with more than likely a lengthy timeline ahead of them. Adults, on the other hand, typically operate under a different set of expectations. There comes a day, for adults, when Ms. Frizzle’s words move from adventurous to risky. Being a beginner in midlife is deemed no longer practical and doesn’t fit the propaganda of planning for a retirement.
But I’m here to help you shift that thinking. You can be a beginner at any age!
SAY YES
Folded in my dresser is a black T-shirt with a red CFMC across the chest and on the back a weight bench with the words Cross Fit Music City. That shirt was part of the “thank you for signing up for our six-week (dare we say it will be hard) challenge” that Dan and I joined in 2019. I knew, after a tour of the facility, that we’d be interacting with a super fit, energetic, “if I can do it, so can you” coach.
In one of the rooms was the body scan machine. It’s like a scale on steroids that spits out not only measures of weight but also hydration, fat, and muscle in the body. As techie as I am, I hate the scale part. (This goes back to the green-shorts struggle, and now that I’ve identified that, I remember to remind myself that numbers don’t matter.) After the scan is complete, the coach sets a hard but doable goal, we sign some papers, and then we take a couple before pictures.
As much as I dislike taking a before picture, I know it’s critical for reframing success. Change is micro, day by day, and just as you don’t see your kid go instantly from four feet to six feet (remember the first- and last-day-of-school pics), you don’t see the process of change in yourself unless you have some frame of reference to start from.
Our neighbor Jason has been working on a massive backyard project over the last eighteen months. What once was a hill with potential is now a basketball half-court, fire pit, and awesome outdoor kitchen. Last week, he told us he wished he had a time-lapse of the process because it’s easy to forget the before as well as all the steps in between.
After the enrollment process, the torch is passed to the clients: show up, do the work, try, don’t quit, push your limits.
I wasn’t on an island in CrossFit. But it was all new—me, in a gym, trying to figure out pretty much everything. I had never been to a gym, never lifted a heavy bar over my head, and never climbed a giant rope suspended from the rafters.
But here’s the thing: never ends the moment you say yes.
Gradually, I picked up on what to do. I learned that I loved the rowing machine and hated the big medicine balls they want you to squat with and then throw high onto a wall just to catch again … and repeat. That right there—throwing a fifteen-pound ball higher than a line on a wall—was hell on earth. I kept doing them, though. I never grew to like it, but I put in the work because I made a commitment to complete the challenge.
When we signed up, I had zero clue what I was getting myself into beyond what I’ve seen on the website and in the twenty minutes I wandered the gym. I felt a kinship with the Survivor contestants who tell the camera, “When you’re watching at home, this experience seems like one thing, but when you get out here? It’s real. And it’s much harder than I expected.” Some mornings I didn’t know if I’d be able to get through the workout. And then when I did, the sense of accomplishment motivated me to come back two days later and do it again.
My biggest mental hurdle during that very first CrossFit experience wasn’t the scale. It wasn’t the workout itself. The biggest hurdle was being uncomfortable with not knowing what to do or how it all worked! I don’t like being a beginner. At all. In those initial sessions, I would have preferred the misery of throwing a medicine ball on the wall over the vulnerability of being a beginner. But despite my beginner anxiety, I kept walking through the door into the gym, determined not to let anything hold me back.
Where does this beginner fear come from? For me, it was rooted in years of bullying. Kids can be mean and cruel and can say some nasty stuff to other kids. When you’re bullied, you make a choice: stand up to the bullies or tolerate them. I discovered quickly that I was terrible at standing up to the bullying. I’d cry almost immediately, which is the kiss of death for a bullied kid. So I tried to tolerate or ignore it, which meant I ultimately absorbed all the bullying, stuffed the feelings inside, and worked hard not to make a scene. That was my coping strategy. I wasn’t ignoring it. I just wasn’t fighting back. I wasn’t thinking that what they said wasn’t true. I accepted it as truth. I learned to stay under the radar in hopes that they might not see me.
Being a beginner can feel a lot like making a scene, like all eyes are on you.
Most of us don’t like being the beginner or the new kid. Those moments can feel like the world is watching us and whispering about our beginner status. But if we don’t push through the beginner sludge, we prevent ourselves from trying new, amazing, and fabulous things.
I worked for years to dissect the root of my fear of being a beginner. I discovered it was linked to not wanting to be rejected (the caring game) and keeping myself under the radar (raise the bar limits), all in hopes of not getting hurt. Bullying hurts, especially when you haven’t learned how not to absorb the meanness or take it as an indicator of worth. I spent way too many years wrongly assuming that bullying was about who I was and that I needed to change.
Ignoring was the strategy of an awkward preteen and teenager, and I didn’t want to carry that outdated mode of operation into my present. So now, instead of avoiding uncomfortable situations where I might be a beginner, I intentionally put myself into them. Then, in the moments of nervousness, I tell myself, “You are not thirteen anymore. You are an adult, and you are worthy of trying.”
REFRAME YOUR FEARS
On that first worry-filled morning at CrossFit, Dan, who was also a beginner, heard my giant list of reasons why I shouldn’t go through the gym doors. But he didn’t indulge my fears. He listened, then asked, “Are you ready to go in?” At times, voicing worries in a safe space can help to diffuse the intensity of the worry. If you don’t have a friend to talk to, just speak them out loud to yourself or write them down. When you hear the worry, often you can rebut your own fear.
For reference, here is a short list of my first-morning worries:
The other people will see me mess up.
They’re going to judge me.
I shouldn’t have worn these shoes.
What if I throw up?
What if the other people talk about me?
How do I put the weights on/off?
How do I get my body to do that?
What if I can’t finish?
If I had let those worries win, I might not be able to proudly wear my CFMC shirt. Instead of sinking into the fears, I reframed them. When you reframe a limit or belief, you are pulling out the presupposition you believe to be true and replacing it with the actual truth. A reframe is nonemotional and logically based and can disempower fears that might linger.
The simplest way to create a reframe is to ask a question regarding a presupposition or assumption in the original statement or question. For example, if I said, “Bethany lost her keys again,” the presupposition might be that Bethany loses her keys regularly. I’d likely assume that Bethany chronically loses her keys, but it just as easily could be that this is only the second time she’s lost them. The best thing I could do is ask questions. Assumptions can lead you down a road that isn’t true, which is why asking the clarifying questions is critical.
Here’s the same first-day worry list with the reframe questions:
The other people will see me mess up.
—Why do you assume you’ll mess up? Why do you assume others will be watching you?
They’re going to judge me.
—Why do you assume they are the judging type? Why do you care if they judge?
I shouldn’t have worn these shoes.
—How could you have known what shoes to wear?
What if I throw up?
—Can you survive throwing up? Why do you think you might throw up?
What if the other people talk about me?
—Again, why are you assuming they’ll talk about you instead of encouraging you?
How do I put the weights on/off?
—Do you think you won’t be able to figure it out? What if someone offers to help you?
How do I get my body to do that?
—Isn’t that why you’re here? Why do you think you have to be perfect at this the first time?
What if I can’t finish?
—What if you can finish? What would happen if you didn’t finish?
Now, let’s take it one step further—the same initial questions, the reframe questions, and then the worry reframed.
The other people will see me mess up.
—Why do you assume you’ll mess up? Why do you assume others will be watching you?
•I will do my best and be supported.
They’re going to judge me.
—Why do you assume they are the judging type? Why do you care if they judge?
•I don’t care what people say, because I am capable.
I shouldn’t have worn these shoes.
—How could you have known what shoes to wear?
•I am wearing the shoes I need to succeed today.
What if I throw up?
—Can you survive throwing up? Why do you think you might throw up?
•I can survive challenging myself and getting sick.
What if the other people talk about me?
—Again, why are you assuming they’ll talk about you instead of encouraging you?
•I can be happy and strong despite negative feedback.
How do I put the weights on/off?
—Do you think you won’t be able to figure it out? What if someone offers to help you?
•I can figure things out, and if I need help, I am comfortable asking.
How do I get my body to do that?
—Isn’t that why you’re here? Why do you think you have to be perfect at this the first time?
•I am strong and can learn to do new things.
What if I can’t finish?
—What if you can finish? What would happen if you didn’t finish?
•I can finish hard things. My track record for surviving my worst day is 100 percent. And if I can’t finish, I can try again next time.
Over the years, I’ve kept a reframe journal. I’ll write the reframes and put them in places where I can easily see them as regular reminders. If being a beginner is uncomfortable for you as well, make your own reframe list. I’ve lived with regret over allowing my fear of being a beginner to stop me from accepting jobs, pursuing opportunities, and even taking a chance to study at an ultra-cool college of architecture in California because I listened to the voice of fear. I don’t want that for you! I want you to confidently step into new things, proud of being the beginner no matter where you are starting from or how old you are.
Thousands of years of survival has made humans’ flight-fight-freeze-or-fawn response easily triggered. While that response is critical if you’ve just avoided a car wreck, it isn’t essential if you’re trying to avoid doing the clean jerk at CrossFit, or speaking up in a meeting where you’re usually quiet, or meeting with the loan officer who is helping you refinance, or are singing a solo at church. Despite the lengthy multipage waiver you’re required to sign, the probability is exceptionally high that attending CrossFit won’t kill you, speaking up is needed, the loan officer is trying to help you, and singing in church is awesome! However, our brains, when put into new scenarios, aren’t always good at distinguishing between real threats (a tiger charging you) and perceived threats (lifting a heavy bar in front of fifteen other people). Our responses can get all mixed up, and that rush of adrenaline, worry, or panic sets in and crowds out the real truth—it’s just a bar, and if you can’t lift it, you will survive.
When you don’t deal with your fears, your fears will deal with you. Many fears can be traced back to events that no longer have bearing on who we are now. My midforties self doesn’t need her thirteen-year-old-self telling her to wait until people will be nice to her. She deserves to operate beyond the truths of who she once was.
You deserve that too.
ASK QUESTIONS
Despite my inner Can you really do this? when it came to CrossFit, I kept showing up—pulling away at the rowing machine, learning to climb a rope to the ceiling, and running around the building in the freezing cold—because I was tired of always playing it safe. Safe keeps us small. Safe tells us to avoid being a beginner and to keep the equilibrium. Safe told me it was better for me to just run on my neighborhood trail and do workout videos at home (both of which are fine, by the way!). But my spirit wanted more than that. And it was scary to step into a space and pretty much say, “I want to change, I don’t know what I’m doing, and I’m here for your support.”
My friends, it was beyond just staying safe. Being a beginner and allowing myself to be messy meant learning to ask questions and to trust that no one would care (and that if they did, that wasn’t my concern). Over the years, because of the unbalanced caring paradox, I had learned to care way, way, way too much about asking questions or not appearing to have all the answers.
In sixth grade, at my very small Christian day school, I raised my hand one day in religion class because I didn’t know what circumcision meant. My class had a mix of sixth, seventh, and eighth grades together. We must have been learning about Abraham or some Old Testament ritual that day, and that word wasn’t one I knew. My hand was up for most of the class, but my teacher, Mr. Fritze, never called on me.
Fast-forward to years later, when I learned what circumcision is. Do you know what my first thought was? Thank goodness I wasn’t called on in class that day! Asking questions can be risky! You ask a “wrong” question and get ridiculed, and you ask good, thought-out questions, and you get praised. You can even ask questions that everyone knows the answers to or questions that make them uncomfortable and then be the butt of jokes. But sometimes, others judge even your good question or assume you’re just trying to be seen. Never mind the saying that all questions are good questions—deep down, we’ve all experienced the truth that asking questions can be vulnerable.
Even though we’re told that asking questions is part of the process of learning, the act itself also means admitting, “I don’t understand this thing I’m asking a question about.” My false narrative about questions said that asking meant not that I was curious but that I wasn’t prepared. In my mind, questions meant a person wasn’t as smart—versus looking at it as being smart enough to ask. And questions focused the spotlight on the asker and on what that person didn’t know.
The first day of CrossFit, I observed.
The second day of CrossFit, I resolved to ask questions.
If I didn’t understand something, I asked questions, even if they might be about basic things. Being willing to ask questions is a good thing, especially if you’re lifting heavy things over your head! Not asking would have been riskier than whatever supposed embarrassment might come alongside revealing that I didn’t know how to do something. If I had assumed how to get the bar back on the rack instead of learning to rely on my spotter, I could have been injured. Assumptions can be dangerous!
When you give yourself grace to ask questions, you open the doorway to learning. My kids are always asking Siri or Alexa questions. Neither device tells them they’re dumb for asking questions; they just answer with information. Your progress will slow down and your potential will be dulled if you assume that not asking the questions is the stronger route to take.
Ask them. Be brave. Learn.
GET MESSY
Getting messy is part of being a beginner. If you’re going to paint your living room, your living room will get messy. You can’t start a painting project and expect it to stay pristine. Getting messy is part of life and part of change. One of the reasons we don’t get messy is that we live in a judgmental world. If you want to go all in on life, to reignite your spark, you’re going to need to deal with your own thoughts about judging and be willing to create a bit of mess in your life. To do this, I believe you have to commit to three important principles:
1. Don’t assume that others are judging you.
2. Don’t judge others.
3. Stop judging yourself so harshly.
Every single reason I gave Dan on the first day was a derivative of one of these three things. I prejudged the CrossFit crowd. Holy moly, was I wrong. Even though each class is a mix of beginners, mid-levels, and pros, no one cares what level you’re at. Most people are just happy that you’ve decided to embark on this adventure! They’re fine with you not being perfect at each exercise, with you making mistakes, with you needing to ask questions, and they want you to keep trying.
Other class members aren’t there to judge the people around them; they’re there to push themselves to get better. When someone keeps trying, keeps going after it, it motivates other people to get on the floor, to count out reps for another person, and to scream, “You’ve got this!”
Most participants are there to be the “You can do this” voice for others.
Don’t Assume Others Are Judging
My first mistake in CrossFit was assuming that everyone was judging me. They’re not. They’re there to work out, to better themselves, and they choose to do it with a group. If anything, I discovered that most participants find deep value in the culture of everyone pushing each other to succeed. It’s not about who’s the best (let’s face it, I’m not going to outlift a 210-pound man on a bench press) but about each person bettering their own best. Beyond that, most are there to push everyone else to better themselves. I didn’t realize this when I started and was letting my teenage brain take over and assume everyone would be judging me. The moment we push aside assumptions and allow truth to reveal itself is when we have the power to continue to add fuel to our fire.
No one cared that I didn’t know the acronyms AMRAP, WOD, or EMOM. They didn’t laugh when I asked. They didn’t tell me I wouldn’t amount to anything (like those thirteen-year-old bullies did). They didn’t shun me because I was last to finish the workout of the day (WOD). They weren’t competitors but rather allies, not bullies but friends.
I had forgotten that nearly every person in that class also sat in an office or picked up after kids or labored at some other job and then walked in these doors and stepped on the futuristic scale, took the almost-naked before picture, put money down, and agreed to show up. Most folks at my gym were normal people like you and me who were challenging themselves, not professional athletes. And no one was forced into that gym. Everyone came by choice—even if they had to battle with themselves to get in the door!
THE POWER OF VULNERABILITY
For me, CrossFit is community. Camaraderie. We’re all there for the same thing—to be the best we can be and to cheer along our comrades.
It is essential to find a group of people who will let you be the beginner without judgment. If you join a group and it’s not that, you can leave (you’re not thirteen anymore—you can choose what’s right for you). If anyone cares about your outfit at CrossFit, it’s probably not the right gym. If they care about your shoes because they don’t have enough support, those are your people. Your community should be exactly that—your community. A good community will encourage you, celebrate your wins with you, and expect you to do the same for them.
You need to give yourself time to create these friendships and bonds. It’s unreasonable to expect day one, week one, or even month one to be full of powerful community moments. Give others a chance and keep showing up. Creating a culture of community takes time.
You have the power to put yourself in powerful situations.
Don’t Judge Others
This also means I don’t get to be judgy either. What if I had walked into CrossFit and immediately started judging others—but then expected that no one would judge me? First, there’s simply not enough time to be judging others (or comparing, which I guess is the “nicer” way to describe it). The time you spend judging another person is time you could spend bettering yourself or learning about their story. Judging is the presupposition that you know the inner chapters of their story based on a very external glimpse. Second, judging can lead to gossiping, which is so harmful and creates a negative and hurtful dynamic that also harms you in the process (and it can take you right back to some of those times in life when you were the one being gossiped about). Third, judging holds everyone back. It harms the person being judged, and it harms the one doing the judging too. It’s like a hangnail—it’s annoying and painful, and even though it’s small, it needs to be cut off.
The easiest way to stay small and to keep your ember just barely flickering is to judge those around you. It’s hard to spark that ember to a flame if you’re focused on judging others. People can sense it. And it’s harming your internal life whether you realize it or not.
Don’t be that person. Cut off judging.
Stop Judging Yourself So Harshly
Finally, when you judge yourself harshly, oftentimes with a measuring stick much stricter than you’d use for anyone else, it’s time to stop. Remind your inner critic that its job is to be the adviser and also your advocate. It’s one thing to hold the bar for yourself high and another to hold it so high that you preemptively cut yourself down.
Holding the bar means expecting great things of yourself but also being okay with imperfection. Cutting yourself down means telling yourself you’re an idiot because you couldn’t figure it out and offering no grace or compassion.
Listen to the words you use to describe yourself. Would you use those same words to talk to your friends? Your kids? Your spouse? If not, stop using them to describe yourself. You aren’t a loser because your painting at the Paint and Sip class doesn’t look like the teacher’s (or the dude’s sitting next to you). You joined the class and you’re learning. That’s what matters. You aren’t a failure if you can’t run a 5K in under thirty minutes. No one said there had to be a time limit. You’re running! You’re exercising and pushing yourself. You are taking care of your body. You aren’t dumb if you end up in last place at trivia night. You are at trivia night—for fun! You are trying. You are doing something other than your normal. You are doing it!
Be inspired by others. Be their cheerleader.
And be your own cheerleader as well.
Remember, your only bar of comparison in examining yourself is yourself—the you of today versus the you of the past. You are the only thing to compare yourself against! It doesn’t matter what your neighbor is doing, what big thing is going on in a coworker’s life, or how social media might make you think your life should be going.
Are you improving?
Are you happier?
Are you adding value?
Are you taking care of yourself?
That’s the comparison.
My CrossFit app only lists my progress. It doesn’t show the progress of the person across the gym. As I watched my pace and progress with each class, I started to realize that improving wasn’t about being better than someone else—it was about being better than me when I began. My experience in CrossFit was a real-life green-shorts moment. I had never done dead lifts, power cleans, power jerks, or any kind of exercise with me lifting a bar with giant weights. But I had tossed aside those green shorts that no longer fit what I wanted to pursue and was in that gym, learning, trying, and consistently getting better.
Responsibility and taking chances aren’t always dependent on each other. Sure, if you sell everything, pack your kids up, and move to Mongolia, then perhaps they are. But even a big change like this is a chance, and perhaps you would be giving your kids the greatest childhood ever. Somewhere around fifteen is when we start being asked, “What do you want to do with your life?” and then at about thirty the phrase shifts from “What do you want to do?” to “You better have it figured out by now.” We need some pressure to figure things out. I love my kids, but I don’t want them living at home when they’re forty because they’re still figuring it out.
You can be responsible and take chances.
They’re not mutually exclusive.
Are you fearful because whatever you’re interested in—going after that promotion, finally letting yourself dream again, buying that house, starting the nonprofit, figuring out you again, and so on—scares you? Are you afraid of failing or of not knowing how to start? That fear means whatever it is you are interested in matters to you. If you didn’t have emotion tied to it, it wouldn’t be that big of a deal to you.
Be grateful for the fear, and don’t let it stop you. Let it motivate you! Let it motivate you to make these next chapters in your life full of starting new things—and continuing them. Be proud of being a beginner. It means you aren’t sitting on the sidelines of your life.
The only thing harder than being a beginner is never being a beginner. And when you’re never the beginner, fear will be replaced by regret. You don’t want to regret not taking the chances, making the mistakes, or getting messy. This is your shot, your chance to try.
One last thing about lifting heavy things, about taking chances: if you want to experience change, you must put it on your to-do list that today you are lifting heavy things. You’re not going to do it. You are doing it. You’ve got to have it as part of the plan. If you want to change the future, you must make a solid plan to change today. Otherwise you won’t ever do it. Make the plan. Do it.
You can lift heavy things. I promise you.
Create an offensive versus defensive strategy. If you sign up for an art class, ask if there are other beginners in the class. Ask if the class is open to questions. And pay attention to what you sign up for. If you’ve never painted and sign up for an advanced “Paint Like Monet” class, you’re making it harder on yourself. Be willing to go up the ladder of learning instead of trying to skip rungs. In swimming lessons when I was a kid, there was a kid in the class who was much older. That didn’t stop him. He kept showing up, kept diving, kept practicing the crawl stroke. Sometimes you have to put yourself in the class that fits you, not where you wish you could be. The process of learning is what makes the experience amazing. You are worth not shortchanging your process.
Practice being the beginner. If you really love to crochet, teach others how to do it. When you teach others, you learn how to be a beginner. You’ll develop empathy for those starting (and will be proud of their success), and you’ll also develop a higher level of empathy for yourself when the roles are reversed. And don’t just stay in what you know! Take more advanced classes for yourself. You might discover other facets of whatever that pursuit is that you truly love.
Be willing to document your before. How many super inspiring stories start with a before image? Whether it’s a health journey, a financial journey, or even a remodel, the before image holds so much power because it illustrates what happens when a beginner puts in the work. Every single person who says yes to a before picture more intentionally pursues having an after photo. I’m grateful for those CrossFit pictures. I’m also grateful for the pictures of the projects we’ve taken on in our home. I’m grateful for the pictures my oldest, Han, took during the hard single-mom days of my life. They documented a raw me but a brave me, and I’m unbelievably grateful for those images. Make an effort to record yourself when you embark on your soul-spark journey. I can guarantee you that you will be proud to look back at that picture. And more than anything, you will be grateful you tried.