Abusing Myself to Support the Abused
Sometimes, I can’t even believe it myself. Like a dream. I mean, I ran 3,142 miles, from the dirty ol’ East River in Manhattan, NY, to the beautiful Bay of San Francisco, CA.
Running 3000 Miles Across the United States of America to Prevent & Treat Child Abuse
Sometimes, I can’t even believe it myself. Like a dream. I mean, I ran 3,142 miles, from the dirty ol’ East River in Manhattan, NY, to the beautiful Bay of San Francisco, CA.
Thirty miles a day.
Twelve pairs of shoes.
Five months beating the streets America across twelve states:
New York
New Jersey
Pennsylvania
Ohio
Indiana
Illinois
Iowa
Nebraska
Colorado
Utah
Nevada
California
And finally, one year later, I am ready to relive it. Recount it. Share my stories with the world.
Have You Heard of Digital Nomads?
What were you guys doing in Portugal? What is this NomadX thing? What are digital nomads, anyway? Hopefully, this post clears it all up. When will you be joining the movement? Sooner than you think...
Back in 1998, I was interviewed by Lynn Lamousin, freelance writer and early-adopter in the tech space, for a magazine called Atlanta Citymag. I had gained some local popularity writing a very wide-open, online diary called phatz.com - this, of course, was back before 'blogging' was a thing. We just called them, "online diaries."
If you want, you can even take a look at the intro for my website back in 1998. Yup, I was a Flash guy. You should get a good laugh out of it.
The point is, throughout my career, I have consistently found myself on the cutting edge of creative ideas and new ways of doing things, usually in an effort to upset the status quo.
Digital Nomads
Screen shot of https://christian.nomadx.com
When I left the 9-5 world of structured days, one-hour lunches, vacation time, and office drama, my goal for Live for a Living was rooted in one, simple idea - "work in the way the suits me best, and I will do my best work."
For me, this means working in spurts, then playing in spurts whether that's riding my beach cruiser for two hours, climbing a rock wall, catching some surf at the pier, land paddling down 3rd street, ...whatever. It can be any number of things, but for me to do my best work, I must focus. To focus, I must be fatigued. That's just me.
Oh, and I don't really like to be nailed down to one office, one city, one state, or even one country while I work. This is a big world and I want to explore it. Furthermore, I have found that travelling actually makes me better educated, more tolerant, and my mind wide open.
There is now a term for this - digital nomads.
NomadX Embraces the Movement
Since returning from Lisbon, Portugal, I have been struggling to explain to people what my experience as Entrepreneur-in-Residence at NomadX was all about. When you are doing something so new and so radical with an institution that most people tend to understand in only one way, it makes for confusing conversation.
But I'm going to try:
NomadX is built on the concept of live/work/play balance, with a built-in flexibility to upset this balance as often as necessary. This new way of living empowers individuals to be better versions of themselves and encourages open sharing, collaboration, idea generation, friendship, mutual respect, and a general sense of well-being and contentment. It's living to your own beat, eliminating the angst of living by others' beats and freeing you to get more enjoyment out of every day of your life.
Like that? I do. But in case you need more, I documented all 15 days of my live/work/play experience with NomadX. Maybe through these posts, it will all begin to make more sense.
15 Days of NomadX
5 Things I No Longer Fear
Fear can be crippling. What does so-and-so think about me? Will I get that raise? Why doesn't he like me? What if I get fired? How come she has all that? Why am I not wealthier? What if I fail?
I believe I have successfully erased fear from my life. See how...
October 2015 became a turning point for me. I quit my job, alienated some colleagues and "friends," and set off to live life on my terms. No apologies. No regrets.
This last year and a half has been a complete blur. In that time, I have completed the Survival Run in Australia, launched a company, ran around the Island province of Phuket, met a beautiful woman who challenges me every single day, lived in Nicaragua, competed on American Ninja Warrior, completed a brutal special forces selection experiment on national television, took on strategic leadership for a worldwide charity, stood in the 'Blue Hole' on the island of Kauai, racked up 50 miles at World's Toughest Mudder in Las Vegas, plus another 14 ultramarathon races around the world; and then, out of nowhere, bought my dream beach house a baseball's throw from the pier. But, among all that, the greatest triumph, ever, was coming to grips with the demons I developed as a victim of childhood sexual abuse, and in the process, getting the necessary treatment.
Eliminating Fear
Fear can be crippling. What does so-and-so think about me? Will I get that raise? Why doesn't he like me? What if I get fired? How come she has all that? Why am I not wealthier? What if I fail?
I believe I have successfully discovered how to erase fear from my life. Here are 5 examples:
1. Fear of Losing Everything
This is a big one, so let's start with it first. If you know me, you know this story, but, when I left my comfy, cush, high-paying job(s), I had fear. I walked away from a guaranteed lump sum of money, in my account, every two weeks. The number of fears that come with life changes at this magnitude are immense, but eventually all point to, "what if I end up homeless, in the streets?"
Guess what... I won't. You won't. That's right, there is a 99.99999% chance that I will never be homeless unless I want to be. Can my life look different? Sure, of course, but will I ever be homeless, unable to secure a meal, a place to sleep, or safety and security? Hell no. I am the same dude who achieved all I have achieved, and I could do it again upon the press of the reset button - But what if I didn't want to? What if I wanted life to look differently? What if I wanted to teach kids to surf in Bali, Indonesia? Guess what? I can. I can do anything I want to do because you can't take away the intangibles that make me ...me: my thoughts, my drive, my intelligence, my tenacity, my charisma, my dedications. All those things no one else can take. from me, nor you.
I will never lose everything because I can aways make something.
2. Fear of Relationships
I hate it when someone doesn't like me. It used to really drive me crazy. If I really like someone, platonically or romantically, and they didn't seem to show interest the way I expected, I tried extra hard to win them over. So much so that I believe the thrill of turning them around became more eciting than my actual desire to be friends or lovers with them.
Guess what... Not everyone is going to like you. No matter how funny you are, some people won't laugh. No matter how attractive, someone will think you have a big nose. No matter how many people think you are inspirational, someone will think your cheesy. We have no control over other people, nor what drives them. I know, I know, there are 15,000 sales seminars that will tell you differently, but is it worth the energy? and how authentic is crafting your behavior, in an unnatural way, just to "win friends and influence people?"
I try to be the most authentic version of myself, and sure, I fail. Often, really. But, the focus remains on being true and authentic to me, and let the chips (and relationships) fall where they may.
3. Fear of Rejection
There is an incredible TEDx talk on this subject of overcoming the fear of rejection, which you can watch below. It's a great story from someone who immigrated here and learned to overcome rejection in a foreign place.
To me, rejection and failure are very much the same. If you fear rejection, you probably also fear failure, but here's the thing - we need rejection. We need to fail. These are the times in our life when we grow the most. We don't grow when we are right or correct or exact. We grow when we are wrong, incorrect, and way off. These are the times of "going back to drawing board." The times of greater discovery, deeper thinking, and alternative ideas.
Don't be afraid of rejection. Embrace it. Consider failures and rejections as lessons in the school of life and as ways to learn things that make you smarter, stronger, and more resilient.
4. Fear of Love
Who could fear love, right? A lot of us. I feared love for a long time. In my particular case, the one I should love the most, I don't. The one who should have taken the best care of me at the most vulnerable time in life, didn't. She failed me, and worse, contributed to me learning about sex, love, and relationships in some of the most perverse and disgusting ways imaginable, leaving me with reactive, dark behaviors developed directly, and indirectly, from those scars of insanity.
I was afraid to love because I was afraid to be hurt. Or worse, I was afraid to hurt others as I bounced between stable Christian and unstable Christian. My own heart, the one that feels for others, can so often turn black when demons of the past show up, and I found myself being the one that cheated on love, lied to get what I wanted, and treated women with disrespect.
I say all this in the past tense as if I am cured. I am not. I still say shit I don't mean at times. I still can be hurtful with my words. I can still, "verbally abuse." The difference between now and then is that I am not afraid to love, nor accept love - both outwardly and inwardly. I am not perfect, but I am awake, and around every turn possible, I am choosing... to choose love.
5. Fear of Ostracization
Big word, huh? Yup, I had to Google the spelling before I wrote it to make sure it was even a word, but naturally, it comes from the word "ostracized."
“Ostracization: to exclude, by general consent, from society, friendship, conversation, privileges, etc.: His friends ostracized him after his father’s arrest.”
I am actually including this fear because I lied. This is, in fact, something that I do fear. I fear it for myself and I fear it for those around me who could be affected. I fear it so much that I craft my stories of my childhood sexual abuse around an enigma, instead of the real person. I claim, "the cast and characters don't matter," when in fact, they do matter. I struggle with working to get those battling with demons of the past to speak up, talk about it, and reach out for help, all while leaving out one very disturbing part of my own story. Why? Because I don't want those in my family who love me to stop loving me. I don't want those in my family who believe in me to stop believing in me. I don't want to be perceived as "out to get anyone," and worse, I don't want to make things potentially difficult for family members who really didn't ask for any of this.
In the end, this appears to come full circle. You could easily scroll all the way back up to #1 to easily solve this last fear to make this essay far more comfortable and fall in line with the intent. But then again, when I have I ever "fallen in line" with anything?
Bridging the Gap
Earlier this year Live for a Living engaged with Catty Shack Ranch Wildlife Sanctuary, working with animals can be more rewarding. Managing their social media has been a lot of fun. But, I had no idea how much I was going to learn about animals, particularly animal cruelty, and the importance of having “retirement homes” for lions, and tigers, and leopards, oh my!
Earlier this year Live for a Living engaged with Catty Shack Ranch Wildlife Sanctuary, working with animals can be more rewarding. Managing their social media has been a lot of fun. But, I had no idea how much I was going to learn about animals, particularly animal cruelty, and the importance of having “retirement homes” for lions, and tigers, and leopards, oh my!
GORUCK
For close to four years I’ve been involved with GORUCK, they run endurance events patterned after special forces to teach team building and leadership. They offer events ranging from a twenty-four hour heavy to a twelve hour challenge to a six hour light, and a few other various events in between. The crazy people go for the full HTL experience, where you stack events back-to-back-to-back. During my own HTL I realized how far I really could push myself. And the people you’ll meet through your events are, honest to God, some of the best humans you’ll ever meet.
At their events, GORUCK requires a service component. When I heard about this, and knew there was an HTL in Jax Beach right around the corner, I knew GORUCK participants would be ever so happy to support such an incredible organization. As quickly as possible a live doc was created to donate items that are regularly needed around the ranch, and we asked for monetary donations as well.
Constantly BLOWN away by the generosity of the community. Together the GORUCK Heavy class 185, Tough class 2307, and Light class 1588 donated a stack of goods needed around the Ranch!
In addition to all the goods (*rucks excluded) the participants raised $900! Which means they have officially ADOPTED four new four legged friends, and donated the additional hundred dollars to help the Ranch! Your new four legged friends are Hercules, Freddy, Chula, and Skywalker!
GORUCK Heavy class 185, meet Hercules, the White Siberian Tiger!
GORUCK Tough class 2307, meet Freddy, the African Lion!
GORUCK Light class 1588, meet Chula, the Marbled Fox!
GORUCK HTL, meet Skywalker, the Black Asian Spotted Leopard!
Lions, and tigers, and fitness!
If you’re in the Jax area and haven’t been to the Ranch, check them out! They offer tours and feedings, enrichment days, they’ll set up private group tours, or if you’re looking for a new place to volunteer, here’s your spot! While we're at it, give them a follow on Facebook, Instagram, and Twitter!
And, regardless of where you live, check out GORUCK's event schedule, there’s an event for every person regardless of your fitness level. And, if you have any questions of which event to start with - or how to train for it - we are always here to support your journey!
Thank you, GRTs
My most sincere thank you to all the GRT’s, the Cadre, and Jason, for building the best community. An additional thank you to y’all for being so kind to a non-profit Christian and I feel so strongly about. Y’all are the knees of the bees, and should all be extremely proud of the blood, sweat, and tears you put into this past weekend! Please share this to show the power of the GRT community!
Lot of love,
Linds <3
Tortola Torture
Earlier this year I set out a few goals for the year. One of which was to complete my first ultramarathon. Being in a new relationship with an ultrarunner, I felt it extremely necessary to determine whether or not I really do hate running. Since I have completed a couple half marathons this year, I felt ready to kick it up a notch. Christian had been invited back to the BVI to run Tortola Torture and stay with the race director and his wife. Since I was going to be going with him I felt it was a great opportunity for me to complete my first ultra.
Earlier this year I set out a few goals for the year. One of which was to complete my first ultramarathon. Being in a new relationship with an ultrarunner, I felt it extremely necessary to determine whether or not I really do hate running. Since I have completed a couple half marathons this year, I felt ready to kick it up a notch. Christian had been invited back to the BVI to run Tortola Torture and stay with the race director and his wife. Since I was going to be going with him I felt it was a great opportunity for me to complete my first ultra.
I had several conversations with Nellie and Richard leading up to the event. The mileage didn’t scare me - I mean it did - but the time cutoffs scared me even more. Besides, I’m nowhere near the shape I used to be in. Christian told me a couple of times that it probably wasn’t the best first ultra experience to have, that this ultra was incredibly tough, which only made me more thirsty.
They offer PLENTY of opportunities for you to succeed. The official start time is 5:00 AM - and while it might be local time, they remind you to run on British time and not Island time. They also allow you to start at 4:00AM, if you’re worried about the cutoffs, and even allow a midnight start. The midnight start is only suggested if you’re ULTRA worried about the cutoffs and either don’t believe you need a crew, or are able to provide your own crew. I had wanted to take the midnight start, but finally was convinced to take the 4 o’clock start.
Arriving to Tortola a few days before the race, as we’re heading to the Richard and Nellie’s house, I’m shown a few of the roads we’ll be running up and down. The race suddenly becomes a little [lot] more terrifying. And suddenly I’m reminded of the six-thousand-five-hundred-eighty-seven feet of climbing... which means over 13,000 feet of elevation changes.
The view from Richard and Nellie's house
The morning after arriving Christian and I took a walk down to the beach, down some ultra steep roads, and I was wearing some cheap flip flops. He looked more than concerned that I’d soon be running 12.8 miles downhill. And, in order to go down, we must go up. The trek back up from the beach he reminded me that a lot of the course would be uphill - 12.8 miles of the course, in fact. Do the math kids, of the 33.74 miles only 7.5 of them are flat. And they’re mostly-all-at the beginning.
Taking a break to admire the view on our walk
I was able to explore more of the course with Nellie as we drove around the island running errands and going to CrossFit. Because, yes, the best way to prepare for an ultra is to complete a workout with doubleunders and lift weights - this was probably a mistake.
Nellie and I at CrossFit Castaway
The night before the race they host a huge pasta party. Nellie goes above and beyond race director wife duties, not only cooking a pasta party for all those running the race, gluten free-vegan options, chicken pasta, pasta with bolognese sauce. She also prepares all the treats for each rest stops. Homemade banana nut loaf, vegan-gluten-free carrot cake bites, gluten-free flapjacks. Guys. Flapjacks aren’t pancakes, in Britain they’re these sweet oatmeal treats. All of the Americans minds were blown. What else are we doing wrong in America? - Please don’t say EVERYTHING.
I chose to forgo the pasta at the party, because earlier that day I had a mean case of vomiting. I’ve tested my diet a few times lately to see if egg whites can be added back in, the same with pork. It’s back to hashtagging #alltheallergies. So, mistake number two was absolutely playing with my diet days before a race. We make it home after the pasta party, and we all offer a hand to get last minute odds and ends put together in preparation for race day. And finally it’s bed time.
As I lay there, I’m terrified. The only time I’ve ever completed this sort of mileage was during a GORUCK event, and I was wrecked afterwards. And since I was starting early, I was going to be solo for a lot of the race. As I’ve been on a quest to work on my self-esteem, I felt like this would be good time for me to be in my own head. Finally I drifted off to sleep, and was less than thrilled when my alarm went off the next morning.
Race day
Christian had reluctantly agreed to drive down with me, to see me off. As we’re approaching the start line I suddenly get a case of the nervous pees. As the other guy and I are getting the 3-2-1, Richard lets us know that when we get to the round-abouts in the road, to stay straight.
At the start line
Guys, I’m in a foreign country, and my cell is barely working, and I’m about to take off in the middle of the night on almost 34 mile run. I’m hopeful that I’ll make no mistakes. And I’m off. Immediately I forget my plan of jog 5:00, walk 1:00 - and I can hear Christian yell “Don’t start off too fast.”
I make it to the first round-about, and there’s two ways to go… definitely to the right and kinda to the left. I choose the left, and I’m hopeful I’m right. And I start to remember my play. I count to 60 five times. Then I walk. Count to 60 once. Then I run. Meanwhile getting barked at by stray dogs, and jogging past locals. Cars whizzing by. No real way of knowing if I’m going the right way, and no signs to tell me how many miles I’ve gone. I can hear the ocean, and every time I hear a wave crash I reassure myself I’m on the right path.
Somewhere around mile eight-and I only know this because they’ve told me-I hear a honk, and it’s Nellie and Jen (an ultrarunner in Tortola as a guest of the race). The largest sigh of relief. The idea that I had been traveling for well over an hour, with no idea if I was on the right path, was more than a little torturous. But, the view when the sun was rising. Un-fucking-real. Regardless of whether or not I was on the right path of the race, I was on the right path for me.
I was feeling pretty solid at the first checkpoint, but also knew that after the first checkpoint is when the real race begins. The first ten may offer a bit of incline-decline, but the real ups and downs begin at mile ten.
It hurts. It hurts bad. And by this point the people who had started an hour after me were starting to pass me. I told myself I’d walk to uphills, run the downhills, and jog-walk the flats. What actually ended up happening was A LOT of walking. Like a lot. And every painful uphill climb, I reassured myself that the view at the top of the climb would be unlike anything I had ever seen before. I hated it, I hated my body, I felt like I was going to fall over from the pain. But then I’d get to the top of the climb and I’d see the most turquoise ocean, and be greeted at rest stops by the friendliest faces.
After the second checkpoint one of the guys on the course made mention that he was cramping up. Without thinking I offered him one of my three salt tabs I had brought with me. And, while I’d always offer to help somebody else out, I probably should have realized handing off one of two salt tabs I had left at mile 15-ish was not my smartest decision.
Finally, at rest stop number three, and about at my calculation as to when Christian was going to catch up to me, there he arrives. He was running for Hope for Children and as a pretty well known ultra-runner one of the girls at the rest stop says “Oh look, it’s Christian.” And I look over at her and immediately say “I hear that guy is a real douche.” The look on everybody’s face was PRICELESS. I wanted to wait till he made it up the hill to kiss him, but the look of horror on their faces was too much. I laughed and said, “just kidding, he’s my boyfriend."
The back half
Christian made mention that he wasn’t feeling the best, and that regardless of how slow I was going to go, he was going to stay with me. I was painfully slow. But the back half even more magnificent views. He picked me a few flowers, to offer his thoughts of encouragement.
I’m probably the only person at Tortola that begged for the downhills to stop. My left knee was thrashed, and while one of the angels on the course gave me an anti-inflammatory, I wasn’t recovering. I only continued to move slower. And I can’t imagine how frustrating this most have been for an experienced runner.
This is a pretty small race. And most of the people running aren’t new to the ultra community. Eventually I fell into dead last place. And it became apparent how important it was for me to take the early start. Every step of the way receiving encouragement from everybody at the rest stops and constant offers of emotional support, food, drinks, from locals in their cars driving the course. The race calls these people “angels” and they absolutely are. Although, I did have a couple moments where I wondered whether they were really devils when they asked “Do you need anything?” I would think... “Yes, fucker, I need a ride to the fucking finish you asshole.” But, I’d actually say “No, thank you! I’m good, just not a runner.”
Christian started reasoning with me. Run till the yellow sign. Walk to the red reflector. When people would tell me “this is the last uphill.” He’d tell me the truth. Except that one time he pointed to the top of the hill and said we needed to go there - I didn’t laugh when he told me he was joking.
Coming up behind us, nearing the bridge we cross over to make it to the “Fuck you, Richard” loop… where you’re almost at the end, but he makes you run a little extra loop… Richard approaches picking up the directional signs from the race. He’s laughing out loud as he knows what we have left. And when Christian and Richard joked about me hating him yet, I laughed and said… “Guys, I signed up for this. I’m mad that my body is failing me. Not at anybody else." I think Richard wasn’t thrilled about this answer. I think he wants people to hate him.
We finished. With eight minutes to spare, we finished. And I cried elephant tears. And begged for something to eat. And to just sit. And as I type this a couple of days after the event has been completed and I’m finally starting to recover. I can officially say I’ve completed my first (and maybe my last) ultramarathon. And I didn’t run all of it, maybe a third of it, so I can still hashtag #notarunner as far as I’m concerned.
Homemade medals
When setting out to complete your first ultra, I’ll offer you a bit of advice. TRAIN FOR IT for fucks-sake. Also, if I ever set out to accomplish this again, I’ll make sure my diet is tight going into the event. I completely depleted my electrolytes and didn’t bring enough salt with me, I’ll make sure I’m a little more prepared if there’s a next go ‘round. Fuck, and already I’m thinking about whether or not I should train and run it next year. They also offer a two or three person relay. Anybody want to be part of a team? Or perhaps interested in an #LLSP sponsorship to pay your entry to the race?
And seriously, even if it sounds scary, pick an ultra that offers you the best views. Because seriously how can you be mad at running close to 34 miles when you get fresh picked flowers and views like this??
A Morning with My People
Lastly, driving to the airport I was filled with visions of the kid who came up to the desk I was sitting on, and just plopped down right next to me without saying a single word. After I finished my answer to another student, I looked at him and said, "well, hello, what's up?"
"I just like you," he said.
“They’re great kids, but there are some deep, dark stories there.
”
Hanging on his every word, I took a sip from my 7th cup of coffee, both intrigued and a little nervous.
"Just be prepared," he warned me. "they're great kids, but there are some deep, dark stories there."
He looked down at the breakfast he had barely touched, and continued, "They may not even pay attention to you, you just never know..."
Here I am, fresh off my big, fancy TV show finish, and a couple of episodes into the series already airing on A&E's History Channel. It's only my second speaking thing. I'm so new, and as of this writing, still so new, that I don't even know what to call what I'm doing.
"Speaker?"
"Motivational speaker?"
"Public speaker?"
It all sounds so pompous. It sounds like authority, and authority never sits well with me.
Speaking to the students in my usual way, sitting on top of things.
Disruption Is What I Do
Personally, I've been completely turned off by most of the "professional speakers" I've ever heard. Canned speeches of exaggerated truth from some seemingly wealthy, self-proclaimed public figure, all designed to drive home a weak message on how to live your life.
Through my own experiences, I have always been amazed at how poorly a public speaker can maintain a "freestyle" conversation, continuing to communicate in simple sound bites and crafted responses. Big, fake smiles attached to an even faker one-on-one communication style.
I never want that to be me. I will never "can" a speech. Nope. And I am adamant about it. I would rather not be part of this speaking thing if it means I have to do it like everyone else. My entire life has been steered with a desire to be different, to do things differently, to shake up the status quo and challenge stale ideas, seemingly illogical practices, and traditions followed simply because "that's the way it has always been."
I guess, in a way, #liveforaliving is me trying to disrupt under the disguise of a business. Don't tell anyone...
My People
The first thing I noticed about the school was the authenticity of the staff. Every single person I met was clearly there for the kids. Top to bottom. A seemingly uncontrollable, unapologetic need to care. Not the bitter, hardened staff that is sometimes associated with schooling so-called challenging youth. I know. I was a member of the challenging youth clan, and I'm here to tell you that you can never count us out.
In fact, I have a Facebook friend, once my 6th-grade math teacher, Mr. Lothrop, who in 1982 made me take back a Swiss Army knife I had stolen from a sporting goods store during a 3-week school trip to Colorado. He saw promise in me, despite my poor decision-making; and instead of dropping me in the dunce bucket, writing me off as simply a bad seed, he took an interest in me, started teaching me how to use computers, after school, and on the very first Radio Shack TRS-80 personal computer. I never looked back. My entire career is now based on technology and I am good at what I do.
This was a school of "Mr. Lothrops", full of a number of diamonds in the rough who were certainly going to benefit from these love leaders.
I may not have infinite wisdom, but I have infinite stories to share.
Oh Crap, I Actually Have to Speak
This is always the most awkward part for me.
Once I get started, you have to send in bouncers to shut me up, but not unlike the first speech I ever did, at a jail in Sonoma, California, I froze at the beginning. I found myself just staring at the room full of kids and wondering, "why should they listen to anything my dumbass has to say?"
Then it came to me.
Raising my own hand in solidarity, I asked, "how many of you feel like you get in trouble a lot?"
Now, you may not know this, but getting in trouble can be a form of identity, a way for some kids to get attention when there was previously very little. Trust me, I know. It's sad, but it's real. Some kids wear it like a badge of honor. I did.
A nice collection of hands raised up high accompanied by big ol' mischievous grins.
"Awesome," I said, "I'm with my people."
Bam! It was at that moment that I could feel the comfort settle in. With one silly little statement, I had established that I was one of them. Every nerve, worry, concern, fear, just disappeared.
The Message
So what did I talk about?
I dunno. Nothing ground-breaking. I talked about celebrating diversity and celebrating your individual uniquenesses. I talked about self-esteem and believing in yourself even if your friends, parents, teachers, and the general public sometimes don't.
I told stories of youthful mistakes and overcoming them. I told stories of terrible things that happened to me as a kid, outside of my control, but how I blamed no one, and instead have suited up to be the best version of myself I can be.
I told stories of fighting for what you want and what you believe. I told stories of fighting for others who may not be as strong. I encouraged standing up for the underdog. I told stories of finding the joy in doing for others.
And, most importantly, I did it my way. Sitting on the desk, hands a'flyin, and none of it in the traditional vibe of, "now eat your vegetables kids and make sure to listen to your parents."
I asked them questions, kept it interactive and flowing and made an attempt to connect with every single one of them.
What I Learned
Pretty sure it's the first time I have had a picture drawn for me.
I like to end these stories with some key takeaways, things I learned that really stood out to me and continue to drive me to build on this speaking thing.
The most evident observation was how much you can touch people if you just bare you soul. You never know who, and to what degree, you can inspire until you try. As the last of the kids left the room, I found myself engaged in conversation with one of the teachers who literally broke down in tears - not just in relation to being touched by my delivery to the kids, but clearly rustling up some of her own demons in the process.
Both the director and my contact expressed how impressed they were with the behavior and positive engagement displayed by the students. I just don't think it would have gone the same way had I not established a connection right out of the gates.
Lastly, driving to the airport I was filled with visions of the kid who came up to the desk I was sitting on, and just plopped down right next to me without saying a single word. After I finished my answer to another student, I looked at him and said, "well, hello, what's up?"
"I just like you," he said.
There is no greater validation in the world.
Or, the chatty li'l girl who walked up to the desk and handed me a picture she had been drawing for me while I talked. Hopefully, laying in bed at night, or alone on the playground, or shoots even buried in the frustrations of family life, she will think of some of the things I said and she will act accordingly.
One can only hope.
So, yea, full speed ahead. I'll continue to carry a message of positivity, strength, individualism, and fight to as many people as will listen to it. I especially like speaking to the kids. They need it the most, and I believe I have a rare gift to connect with them on a different level than most adults, parents, and authority figures.
It would be a crime not to use it. Challenge me.
Resolution Season
It’s a new year, friends. So we have 365 days to write our 2017 story. I closed out 2016 with a hot yoga flow class, and started it with a 10 mile run. Well, at least that was my intention.
It’s a new year, friends. So we have 365 days to write our 2017 story. I closed out 2016 with a hot yoga flow class, and started it with a 10 mile run. Well, at least that was my intention.
Some of my favorite 2016 memories, get outside and play!
Yoga
December 30th, I’m finishing up a hot yoga flow class. I asked one of the students, who also works for my studio, if they were taking the New Year’s Eve yoga class. I was under the impression it was a flow class, much to my demise, it was actually a yoga sculpt class. Fun fact, lifting weights is like my jam… However, lifting weights while taking yoga, not so much my jam. More like my mushrooms on a peanut butter and jelly sandwich.
I filled my girlfriend in on the changes, and we went anyway. And much to my surprise, I didn’t hate it as much as I thought I was going to. It ended up being the perfect way to ‘round out the night. And I was able to scream “Happy New Year,” in my yoga studio, which is kind of my favorite place to be these days.
Run
New Year’s morning, I woke up to what had to have been the coldest day of the week. So, the idea of throwing my hair in a messy bun, walking out the door, and going for a trail run was not really my idea of the perfect day. Above mentioned friend was the one who encouraged me to do the run, it was nice to have somebody I was meeting, so I had to go. She had asked me early on if I wanted to do a 10K or the 10 mile run, of course I chose the latter, and of course I literally haven’t run in months.
As of late the rain has brought sort of a sense of peace to me. So, as it started to sprinkle about a mile in, I felt calm. My running pal started singing, “here comes the sun,” a song that always reminds me of my mother. So it really solidified what we were doing.
At about mile four the volunteers didn’t tell us which way to go, so we went the wrong way. This happened one additional time on our run, so by the time we finished we ended up completing 12.5 miles total.
Life isn’t about the destination, it’s the whole damn map.
This has resonated with me lately. I feel it when it comes to my personal life, career, fitness, everything. Some, ok most, days I question the path I’m on, and sometimes I make the wrong turns, but I always end up exactly where I need to be.
Let’s look at that in just simple goals. When I first decided I needed to “get in shape” I knew I was never going to touch a weight, fast forward twelve years from my cardio bunny days, having a deadlift over 300 pounds is one of my favorite accomplishments.
Let’s pause in the middle of that timeframe. I had gotten back into yoga, and had recently completed a thirty day yoga challenge. I was craving variety, when I decided to ask my significant other at the time if I could go lift with him at the gym. When I touched my first weight, it was over, I had found love. For a long time I was following a bodybuilder routine, and talked so much shit about CrossFit. Then one day the games were on while I was at the gym, and I wanted to be just as badass as the girls on screen. Long story short, I occasionally get referred to as CrossFit Barbie. We are constantly evolving and reinventing ourselves, why shouldn’t we expect our goals to do just the same?
One of the biggest lessons I’ve learned from this is that we shouldn’t say negative things about that which we have no idea about. And we should never think certain people’s goals are silly. I remember the days of saying, “If I could just do one dip.” Which evolved to, “If I could just bench over 100 pounds.” Which has evolved into so many different goals, some of which I’ve murdered, some of which have murdered me. When people tell me their goals, and they say they’re “silly,” I let them know that I couldn’t do a single push-up when I first started CrossFit, and suddenly their goals seem less silly to them.
This crossroad is a place I’ve been stuck in lately. Do I continue to be a cardio bunny? Or do I become CrossFit Barbie? Obviously I’m speaking metaphorically, we all know I choose deadlifts over running. And, I think you’ll notice that when you take a look at my resolutions for the year, they’re kind of all over the place. Because I feel like I’m in a place in life where I have to try all the flavors of ice cream to decide what I really want. And somehow I have to learn to be okay with the unknown.
I’ve listed my goals below, but I’m interested what yours are, and how I can help you achieve them!
2017 Goals
To floss, everyday (my forever resolution)
Spartan Trifecta
Zero alcohol *kombucha doesn’t count
30 yoga classes in 30 days
Travel to a foreign country
Grow #LLSP and Live/Love for a Living
Register for yoga alliance
Pick back up where I left off with NASM
Get a muscle up FFS
Therapy ALL of it
Run a marathon (or greater)
Learn to say no
Stop saying “I’m sorry” all the time
Log 1000 miles for the year run/ruck/hike
Everyday write one thing I’m thankful for in my planner
The Selection: Special Operations Experiment
Live for a Living founder, Christian Griffith, is one of 30 participates tested in THE SELECTION: Special Operations Experiment, an 8-week reality documentary series on History Channel. How far will he make it?
What happens when you take 30 athletes, from various disciplines, and put them through the mental, physical, and emotional training of elite military special operations units?
Find out tonight at 10:00 p.m. on History Channel during the premiere of THE SELECTION: Special Operations Experiment. Live for a Living founder, Christian Griffith, is one of the 30 participants and promises a unique watching experience.
"While I can't say too much about what we went through, I can promise you that is was far more intense than I could have ever imagined, and the experience has profoundly changed me as a person."
Instructing the 30 civilian participants are six of the finest combat veterans that range across various U.S. Special Operations units including: Veteran Navy SEALs Marcus Capone, Ray Care and Sean Haggerty; veteran Special Forces Green Berets Donnie Bowen and Bert Kuntz, and veteran Army Ranger Tyler Grey.
“The Selection: Special Operations Experiment” is a project by executive producer, Peter Berg (Lone Survivor) and his unscripted shingle Film 45 and Bunim/Murray Productions.
Angry at My Abuser
Warning: This gets pretty heavy into stories of personal sexual abuse and could potentially be a trigger for those who have experienced childhood sexual abuse in their own lives. Please be aware.
In February of this year, I came out about the sexual abuse I endured as a teenager. It was really hard to write, making something so embarrassing, so taboo, and so "dirty," so damn public, but I had no choice. I had become desperate for daily relief and I found that one moment of strength to no longer care about the outcome. I had to do this for me. I had to heal.
I continue to learn just how hard this can be, and today, I am angry as Hell.
Today, I continue my story in an effort to inspire others to speak up.
Fuck You, "_ _ _ _ _ "
My original abuser is a real life monster, yet someone very close to me. A deeply disturbed, manipulating, monster who unfortunately continues to try to come after me. In fact, a recent contact attempt from this person rattled me and drove me to write this today.
This person baited me at an early age, during puberty. First, appearing before me naked more than not, and really making that a lifestyle, ...but only in private. The strategy only got more sick with my abuser leaving some of the most disturbing sexual content in existence right under my nose - stories of gang rape, incest, bestiality, torture - knowing as a budding teenager I would be interested and intrigued by anything sexual. Sure, the books were "hidden in a brown paper bag," but in a way that in retrospect I realize was just part of the sick game.
Like a good little fish, I was hooked, stealing the books for nightly reading under the covers of my bed. I was 14 years old and discovered masturbation through consuming this material.
What an awesome, loving, and beautiful way to discover sexuality, huh? Think that played out later in my life? Yea, take a guess...
Progressive Disease
Left unaddressed, a disease will only progress, right? Nobody has Cancer, and then just doesn't, without intervention. Naturally, the abuse escalated. My abuser moved on to carefully crafted scenarios of drunkness, taunting and luring me into episodes of touching and confusing intimacy, leaving me to progressively wonder if I was just a sick pup myself.
I DIDN'T FUCKING KNOW ANY BETTER.
Who could I tell? And truth be told, did I want to tell? Was I completely sick for not wanting to tell? This wasn't natural. It was wrong. It was slowly turning ME into a monster, but I couldn't get a break. The cycle was beginning. You don't know what you don't know, but I knew something wasn't right.
I felt dirty. Creepy. Broken. Trapped. And what do we do when we experience those feelings? Yup, we adapt. In multiple directions, from painting big smiles and stories of an awesome childhood, to total regression, curling up in a corner and smashing ourselves in the head with our damaging thoughts. It's a fucking terrible place to be.
I lived in that place for 32 years.
I know some of you are living in that place, right now.
Admission is the Hardest Part
“Fear is liar.”
"No one will believe me (yes, they will)"
"It was a long time ago, why now? (cuz, you'll never heal)"
"Now is not the time (yes it is, there is never a "right" time)"
"I can't tell, it will destroy my family. (no it won't)"
"Everything is manageable in my life (no, it's not), I don't need to create this drama (yes, you do)"
To all the people I have come in contact with since my admission, I beg you. Plead with you. Please tell someone you trust. If you aren't there yet, then tell me.
“We may not have it all together, but together we can have it all.”
But admission is only the first step, and now, six months later, and with the help of some others in my life, I am moving into the next phase of my recovery - tactical exercises designed to modify life-long, learned, behaviors that have either allowed me to cope, or in contrast, prevented me from having normal relationships.
Recently, a real hero has come into my life and has helped me take control of my healing. A real warrior. A person who loves me and who I trust is looking out for my best interest. She is my strength when I have trouble finding it. She is my behavior mirror and she challenges me to be the best man I can be. I'm not there yet, but moving in the right direction feels fantastic. Even freeing.
Please join me.
Please walk the path to healthy. We can all do it together.
Running for Marines
Everyone told me, "no one will care Christian, we are always getting hit up for this stuff." - But I didn't listen, and as of today, people have donated $1,095 in support of my efforts, but I am hoping that we can get to $3000 before I run. It's the least we can do for the brave souls that fight for our freedom day in and day out, you know?
““No one will care Christian, we are always getting hit up for this stuff.””
Sometimes, I'm selfish.
My approach to 99% of my athletic events is one of personal intensity, competitive aggression, and all-out performance. Even if I know I have little chance of winning, I will drill myself into the ground trying.
Making it about Marines
For the first time, ever, I am running for a higher purpose. Through both my short career and event participation with GORUCK, I became close to a number of Special Forces Veterans and active-duty heroes, some of whom are Marines. My ex-colleague "Big Daddy" John Croft, GORUCK Cadre, "JC," "quadzilla" and GRT friends, Justin Johnson, and "Evil Ed" Ed Bse stand out as some of the men who inspire me on the regular. There are more, of course, but these guys touched me early and often.
On October 30, 2016, I will be running the Marine Corps Marathon in Washington, DC in support of Aid for Wounded Warriors. They offer programs like service dogs for disabled vets (my fav), financial support for long-term care of Veterans, and Therapeutic services designed to improve the lives of our servicemen and women as they assimilate back into everyday culture.
Will You Support Me?
Everyone told me, "no one will care Christian, we are always getting hit up for this stuff." - But I didn't listen, and as of today, people have donated $1,095 in support of my efforts, but I am hoping that we can get to $3000 before I run. It's the least we can do for the brave souls that fight for our freedom day in and day out, you know?
If you are willing to support me, I am grateful for anything. I truly am.
Thank you for reading, and potentially supporting me.
- Donate Now
- Azalea Charities: Aid for Wounded Warriors
- Marine Corps Marathon website