Breaking Barriers Blog

My marathon obsession kicked into full swing.  It was 1998 and I was forty-five.  Five years had passed since I broke 4 hours at the Long Beach Marathon.  I ran the New York City Marathon in 4:34 and later that same year I ran the Napa Valley Marathon in 5:05.  As you can see, those times were, well…slow.  I justified New York because I started in the back of the enormous pack.  I was sluggish at Napa Valley because I didn’t properly train.  I didn’t train because my marriage was crumbling.

My relationship with my husband was getting more stressful and deteriorating.  The strain of the business was wearing us down.  By this time, we had up to 20 full-time employees in two offices not counting temporaries and we had plans for further expansion.  I’m sure running our business wasn’t any harder than anyone else’s, but it seemed harder because we were never at peace with each other.

How did I deal with the stress?  I ran.  Running was a major factor in helping me deal with the pressures of my life.  No matter what was going on, lawsuits, firing employees, meeting payroll, I could count on the stress release of a good run and the endorphins that followed.

Despite the issues of my marriage and the business, I continued to chase my dream of qualifying for the Boston Marathon.  I ran the St. George Marathon in over four hours in 1999.  I followed that up with the Las Vegas Marathon in 2001 in 4:10 and later that year I ran the Marine Corps Marathon in 4:17.  I was beginning to run out of excuses.  How could I have been so close to qualifying for Boston in 1993 only to be so lethargic in every single marathon since then?  I was frustrated.  I needed to try harder.

As I was engaged full force into marathon mania, my marriage dissolved and so did our business.  2001 brought another recession.  This time, we were tired and neither one of us had the energy or fortitude to deal with the sudden drop of hiring and the resulting impact on a larger business.  We separated and split what was left of the company.

Anyone who has endured the separation from a long-term marriage, especially with a child involved, understands how complicated and surreal life becomes.  It seemed we were going through the motions looking for something that made sense.  Again running was the anchor that kept me grounded.  My divorce became final in 2002.

Hemingway Solutions, Inc. was created in 2002, a much smaller executive search firm. This was a new beginning.  I looked forward to better times ahead, both in marathoning and in life.

In terms of marathoning—I completed marathon number 9, the San Diego Rock N Roll Marathon, in 2002 in well over four hours.  I remember crossing the finish line shaking my head.  I should have been enjoying such a great marathon with bands scattered about the course and celebrating finishing yet another marathon.  Instead, I just thought about my perceived failure.  It was hard to argue with years of consistent results that didn’t meet the mark.  But I continued to be in denial—something inside didn’t want to believe I wasn’t good enough to qualify for the Boston Marathon.

In terms of life—my business was thriving and I enjoyed the peace of a smaller company and being independent.  My son was adjusting to living life between two parents and his demanding sports schedule kept him busy.  But another element cropped up to make my life more…dynamic.  I met Mike and it was love at first sight.  Here I go again.

Next—Another Relationship and Homeopathy

Training Report

I continue to be on track in my training—though I find myself tired all the time!  I logged 58 miles this week including a 20 mile run on Saturday and 9 miles on Sunday.  I was lucky, I did not get caught in the rain, but the wind was strong.  It was about as cold as it gets here in California.

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In 1993, I decided to train for another marathon—ten years after the first one.  Why did I do this?  I don’t know, call it lunacy.  The memories were vivid—the grueling training and the enormous time commitment like running 3 to 4 hours on a Saturday and then being exhausted the rest of the day.  But the more powerful memory was the thrill of crossing the finish line and the tremendous satisfaction I felt at accomplishing a goal.  Those were the feelings I desperately needed to recapture at that time in my life.

I started training for the Long Beach Marathon in October.   I dug out my old training folder from the first marathon 10 years earlier and I started the 6-month training program.  This time I was on my own.  But I have always been goal oriented and I knew that once I committed I would complete the training. It was tough but I realized as I was running, running and running that my stress was decreasing and I liked working toward this goal.

I had no expectations.  Maybe that is why I ran so well.

On race day, I was excited and inexperienced.  The overachiever kicked in and I ran too fast from the start.  I “hit the wall” at around 22 miles.  All marathoners understand “the wall”.  It’s that elusive barrier when our bodies decide they will no longer perform—no matter how hard we push.  My pace slowed to a crawl and I started to think that finishing the race was harder than being in labor—and that was damn hard.

At the 25 ½ mile mark, I was walking—or should I say limping.  A runner behind me was whaling every time he took a step.  I think he felt like he was in labor too.  Another runner lumbered past me and shouted, “You’ll break 4 hours if you run to the finish.  It’s right around the corner.”

Despite the lack of oxygen in my brain, I understood and willed myself to run around the corner to see the end in sight.  I saw my time as I crossed the finish line.  I stared hard at the clock and thought, “No, that can’t be right.”

It was 3:55:15—almost thirty minutes faster than my first marathon.  I was stunned but too tired to appreciate the accomplishment.

The next day I suffered, really suffered, because I had pushed the pace too hard.   I couldn’t walk and each step felt like my muscles were tearing inside my skin.  Despite my agony, I wore high heels to a client meeting that day.  Yes…I said high heels.  Obviously, I still had no oxygen in my brain.

The Controller looked at me with a pained expression on her face as I stepped ever so slowly into her office.  I couldn’t tell if it was empathy or amusement.  I didn’t care, I beat 4 hours.  It was beginning to sink in.  Wow, I was good.

To run a marathon in under 4 hours is a milestone and I did it at the age of forty.  I began to think I had an athletic gift.  Priscilla Welch started running competitively at the age of 35.  She placed sixth in the first Women’s Olympic Marathon when she was nearly forty years old.

Then there was Boston.  When I realized I only needed to run five minutes faster to qualify for the Boston Marathon, I knew I could do it.  All I needed was a time of 3:50…no sweat.  That’s only five little minutes faster…

As my marathon dream was churning in my head, life was moving forward at an alarming rate.  My son started Kindergarten and took an interest in sports.  He started playing soccer and baseball.  Though I continued to run on a regular basis, going to games and running the business were the priorities in my life.  Before I knew it, four years had passed since I ran Long Beach in 1993.  I needed to make my dream of qualifying for the Boston Marathon a priority or it wouldn’t get done.

I heard about the Leukemia Team in Training program and checked it out.   The featured marathon was the Maui Marathon.  The coach of the program, John Loeschhorn, was a World Class Runner.  He competed in the 1972 Olympic trials and ran ultra-marathons.  The program seemed like a good fit with a good cause and I signed up.

I ran the Maui Marathon in 1997.  Maybe I didn’t train hard enough, or I started out too fast, or maybe it was because it was really, really hot, but I finished slower than my first marathon time of 4:20.  It was torture.  My entire body felt like it had been pounded through a meat grinder.

I was devastated at my time and needed to redeem myself.  I was still confident in my ability and believed I could break 4 hours if I tried again.  Now my determination kicked in…or was it stubbornness?  Sometimes a failure is more of a driving force than a success.  No time to waste.  I started training for my next marathon almost immediately.

The constant running was a blessing as I look back.  It absolutely helped me get through the next few years—arguably the hardest of my life.

Next—More Marathons, Business Dissolution and Divorce

Training Report

As I move into my three hardest training weeks in preparation for the Lincoln Marathon on May 1, I am on track.  I logged 51.5 miles this week including an 18.5-mile run on Saturday and 9 miles on the hills on Sunday despite the heavy wind and rain that plagued the LA Marathon today.  It was a character-building run.

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It was 1989 and I was pregnant.  I was not expecting this to happen…but somehow I would make this work.  In my overachiever mind, I saw myself working and running up to the day I delivered.  But being pregnant wasn’t the only issue I was concerned about—the economy was moving toward a recession.  Not good timing for a pregnant self-employed woman who was married to a man who just started a business of his own.

The nausea came over me like a heavy, dark cloud and it didn’t seem to stop–ever.  My energy was nonexistent.  When I forced myself to drive to my office, I would sit at my desk with my head down.  I didn’t have the strength to pick up the phone.  Running was a distant dream.

My pregnancy turned out to be a period of forced relaxation–I couldn’t work or run.  Even worse, eating was out of the question.  I think I threw up every single day.  Wow, that was fun.  I was hospitalized twice for dehydration–even water didn’t stay down.  The days were a blur.  I lost 11 pounds in the first half of my pregnancy.  My net weight gain when I delivered was a whopping fourteen pounds.

JJ was born on August 02, 1989, a healthy, but lean baby boy.  The doctors assured me he got what he needed from me; it was just that pregnancy didn’t agree with me.  But was it worth it?  Absolutely, I can’t imagine life without my son.  The hormone imbalance I was obviously suffering from came back to haunt me later in life…but more about that later.

After I delivered, I was anxious to get back into shape, but the business needed attention.  Arne and I never intended to work together, but the recession forced it.   I merged my company into Hemingway Personnel shortly after JJ was born.  I was optimistic.  I loved my independence, yet the thought of creating a business with my spouse seemed romantic in an idealistic sort of way…idealistic being the key word here.

There are certain advantages to working independently.  I could do things the way I desired.  Working with a partner is an entirely different story, especially a spouse who is used to supervising and dictating to a large group of people.

We made lots of mistakes in the beginning.  For instance, we did not clearly define our roles or agree on a procedure to follow if we didn’t agree—which was most of the time.  The main reasons we survived our first year during a recession were 1) our overhead was low and, 2) failure was not an option.  As in finishing a marathon, it’s surprising what can be accomplished if your intention is strong enough.

Through all of this, I was ecstatic to be able to run again.  Running was one constant in my life that I counted on to feel good.  The hardest part about running again after several months off was that my mind thought I could just pick up where I left off.  I was so excited to get out to exercise I picked up the pace only to sit in the shower later with waves of nausea due to lactic acid build-up.  It took about six months to regain the fitness I lost during pregnancy.

The next few years were focused on building the business.  We were busy hiring people, creating procedures and diversifying.  Growing the business was important to me but Arne and I didn’t see eye-to-eye.  The excitement of expanding was overshadowed by the tenseness between us and it took a huge toll on the business.  It didn’t help our personal relationship either.  I was emotionally drained and angry that my life was so hard.

In the midst of this chaos, I turned to running which, in the past, had helped me feel like I was in control and centered.  So at the age of 40, I decided to train for another marathon—ten years after the first one.  Thus began a new phase in my life, which I lovingly call marathon mania.

Next–Marathon Mania Begins

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When I started the marathon training program for my first marathon, the biggest hurdle was wrapping my head around the distance.  When I thought about 26.2 miles, I couldn’t comprehend running that far.  It was farther than the twelve-mile drive from my hometown, Augusta, to Wichita (Kansas).  If I turned around and ran back, I still wouldn’t cover the distance. That’s just crazy!

The training program for the Wichita Marathon (now called the Prairie Fire Marathon) was six months long with increased mileage each week and a long run every Saturday.  When our weekly long run exceeded ten miles, I was grateful to be running with a group to help push me along.  I discovered a new set of aches and pains and a new level of exhaustion.  The time commitment was enormous.  Can you imagine going out on a Saturday and spending three to four hours running?  I actually questioned my sanity as the mileage got longer and longer.

My new friend, Arne, started training with me during the week.  Arne had a management position in corporate accounting.  He recently moved to Wichita from Chicago for the opportunity at Pizza Hut and was focused on moving forward in the company.  He was a CPA, intelligent and fit.  I enjoyed his company on the training runs.  We were both accountants, so we had something in common.  This was his first marathon as well so we were going into uncharted territory together.

We were crazy in those days.  I remember we went on a 10 mile run in August when it was really hot and humid without carrying any water.  We would drink out of the hoses in front yards of houses as we ran by.  What were we thinking?

Going for long runs is a great way to get to know someone.  As the mileage accumulated, Arne and I became more than friends.  Face it, if you can look and smell like a drowned rat in front of someone and they still like you, it must be love.

We made it through the training…finally.  I am proud to say we both finished our first marathon in Wichita, Kansas in October of 1983.  I finished in 4:23:10.  I was twenty-nine years old.  When I crossed the finish line, my legs buckled and my stomach muscles tightened up so much I couldn’t stand straight.  Despite my discomfort, my smile was huge.  Goal accomplished after six months of grueling training.  At that moment I realized that the marathon was more mental than physical.  Our bodies can be trained to do much more than we can imagine, but if we don’t believe we can do it in the first place, it isn’t going to happen.

My relationship with Arne continued after the marathon was over.  It was going so well that I asked Arne to marry me in December—he accepted.   I’ve been told that I am not very patient…  We set the date for the following May.

The week we were getting married, Arne got a promotion.  He was offered the Controller position for the distribution company of Taco Bell located in Irvine, California.  By that time I had been with Pizza Hut for almost five years.  I was nervous about the move.  Leaving Pizza Hut wasn’t hard–it was a great company but accounting work wasn’t fulfilling to me.   Though I was distraught about leaving my close family and friends, I looked forward to my new adventure.

One of my most fond memories right before we moved was running with the Olympic Torch.  Pizza Hut sponsored one woman and one man to run with the torch prior to the 1984 Olympics held in Los Angeles.  I signed up for the drawing in the fitness center and won.  When the torch passed through Kansas, I was one of the runners who carried it for about a half a mile.  I was surprised at how heavy it was.  Even though it was raining when I ran, people were standing out in the middle of nowhere to watch and asked for my autograph.  It was a thrill and I got to keep the torch as a souvenir.

In July 1984, Arne and I arrived in California.  I was unemployed.  Even though I had been offered a similar position at Taco Bell to the one I had at Pizza Hut, I declined hoping I could find a position more interesting.  I started my job search in earnest.  I went to a small employment agency and the recruiter said, “Why don’t you try the personnel business for a week and see how you like it?”  My heart skipped a beat.  Yes, I liked the idea of becoming a recruiter and the chance to try something other than accounting.

I started the trial week and found the job interesting and challenging.  I got an offer to stay.  Okay…it was a huge salary cut but I knew I could make it up on commission.  Something inside knew this was the right move for me.

When Arne found out I accepted $350 a week, he was livid.   “What!  Are you crazy?  Why would you throw away your accounting career?”  Arne shook his head slowly and I could hear him sigh as his eyes narrowed and his mouth tightened.  “Unbelievable.”  But my gut feeling proved to be right.  I started making more money after two months than I ever did in accounting.  Arne stopped complaining…  The lesson here is to do something that you want to do and the money will come.  The overachiever was alive and well.

I left the small agency after six months and joined a national recruiting firm that specialized in the accounting and finance area and started placing full-time professionals.  I found my career niche.

Life was good.  I enjoyed my new career.  Of course running was still an important part of my life and I continued to run races focusing on the 10K to half-marathon distance.  I maintained a weekly mileage level of 20 to 30 miles a week during this time.  In an effort to improve my performance, I started researching vitamins and minerals and started taking supplements to help maintain my health and fitness level—a practice I continue today.

After three years with the recruiting firm, I took a bold step and went out on my own.  It was the influence of my parents and the allure of being my own boss.  I took the plunge in 1987 and moved into an executive suite.  The economy was humming and I enjoyed success as an entrepreneur and loved being independent.

Meanwhile, Arne was intrigued with the potential of the personnel business and he started his own company, Hemingway Personnel, Inc., in 1989.  It was primarily a temporary placement firm specializing in accounting and finance.  So, if it wasn’t stressful enough that both of us were self-employed, it certainly became more traumatic when, in 1989, I discovered I was pregnant.  How did that happen?   I guess that’s a rhetorical question…

Thus began another turbulent period in my life.

Next–Pregnancy, Running and Working with a Spouse

Training Report

I logged 51.5 miles this week.  This included a 7 mile speedwork run and back to back long runs of 17.5 miles on Saturday and 8 miles on the hills on Sunday.  My long runs were slower than normal.  I am beginning to fatigue and must rest more.  I’ll work on that.

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During the worst of my emotional trauma, I refused to take medication.  Perhaps it was my fear of losing total mental control.  My gut told me there was a better way to deal with my issues.  Even today I view my “nervous breakdown” as a blessing.  I discovered self-hypnosis.

If you are one of those people who push yourself to the extreme, you know how hard it is to relax.  I was wired all the time.  At this point in my life, I was not running.  I wonder how I would have handled the stress if I had had the benefits of exercise.

But back to my emotional trauma, while I was in the hospital, the doctor hypnotized me to help me to relax.  Even though I had not been hypnotized before and was quite skeptical, I did experience some relaxation—to the point where I could sleep.  I was intrigued.  He told me if I continued to practice self-hypnosis, I would continue to improve.

The doctor recorded a 15-minute tape for me.  It took me through a relaxation and breathing exercise and contained positive affirmations designed to lessen my anxiety.  I listened to this tape whenever I felt anxious and again at night before sleeping and in the morning before I got out of bed.  I didn’t really understand hypnosis, but I was willing to try it.  I was hopeful it would work.

It did work.  As I continued to listen to the tape, my ability to relax improved and I was able to think and function again.  I had a speedy recovery—and without drugs.*   I returned to work more relaxed and productive.  But I needed a change from the chaos of public accounting.  So after two (very long) years, I left Peat, Marwick and took an accounting position in the corporate office of Pizza Hut, Inc.  It was 1980 and I was 26 years old.

Pizza Hut was a great company—innovative.  It was one of the first companies to have a full gym located in the building.  Maybe I didn’t have the encouragement to exercise when I was growing up, but I certainly did now. The company encouraged every employee to take advantage of the center.  I started to exercise during my lunch hour.  The fitness director at the gym was a runner and was recruiting people to run with him.  I was easily recruited.  My life was forever changed—I became a runner.

Associating with runners is addictive.  Runners are generally positive and energetic people.  Many are also competitive and always looking for ways to get faster and run farther.  Running was a perfect match for my competitive, wired nature.  It also required no real skill like hand-eye coordination.  Just put one foot in front of the other, right?

I ran my first race almost immediately.  It was a two miler and I finished in a whopping 24 minutes.  My legs ached, I was gasping for breath and I felt like I might throw up from the long, grueling distance.  We all have to start somewhere I told myself.  But, despite my agony, I loved the way I felt after the race, my heart was pumping, my mind was clear and I accomplished a goal.  I finished, I really finished!

While I was feeling good about my new adventures in running, I had to come to terms with another area of my life—my worsening relationship.  After nine and half years of marriage, Greg and I called it quits in 1982.  I was shattered.

By that time I had been running for two years and had graduated to running 10K races (6.2 miles).  Did running help me through my divorce?  Yes, it did.  There were days when I just wanted to sit in a corner and cry, but I forced myself out the door because I could always count on the positive feelings I experienced at the end of the run.  I was doing something good for myself.

Running was not easy—in fact it was complicated.  There were speed drills and mileage charts and finding the right shoes.  Was I a pronator or supinator?  Should we eat before a race?  Should we eat after a race?  If so, what is appropriate?  It’s important not to take it all too seriously!

Injury was a big factor.  I had a tendency to go overboard on training—what a surprise.  The overachiever in me was on a mission.  I was sure I was on the road to Olympic stardom.  I discovered chiropractors and ice and, of course, anti-inflammatory medication.  By the way, I highly recommend chiropractors.  I had a crooked hip, which was fixed by chiropractic medicine and allowed me to continue to run.

By this time, I had been thinking for some time about running a marathon.  Pizza Hut offered a marathon training class.  I needed a challenging goal that would take my mind off my divorce so I decided to go for it.

I met Arne at the first informational meeting.  They say never jump into a new relationship immediately after a divorce.  Well, my jump was off a cliff.

Next—First Marathon-Second Marriage

*For a more detailed description of self-hypnosis, see my Premium Content.

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Sometimes life presents challenges for which we aren’t prepared.  In 1976, when I graduated from college in Kansas, women were just barely breaking out of traditional roles.  I hadn’t envisioned being a pioneer…but I found myself in that role.

Right after graduation, two other business students, who happened to be men, were recruited by a local corporation to join their management training program.  I was perplexed.  Both men graduated with lower GPA’s than mine.  What about all of my hard earned accomplishments?  I was ignored and the anger intensified inside.

When I started my job search, I began to think it was a curse that I had worked my way through college as a bookkeeper.  One woman in an employment agency couldn’t understand why I wasn’t happy working as a bookkeeper.  She rolled her eyes and sighed as she asked, “What else could you possibly want?”

Don’t get me wrong.  Being a bookkeeper is a great job, but I went to college to do something else…to make a difference.  I wanted more.

As my job search drug on that summer, I became disillusioned and I felt sorry for myself.  I could feel the pressure again and my sinus problems got worse.  How could life be so unfair?  So I did what any overachiever would do, I went back to school.  I wasn’t going to give up.  I needed to keep pushing forward.

I took a graduate assistantship at Wichita State University.  I decided to take additional accounting courses and sit for the Certified Public Accountant’s (CPA) exam.  It was the only way I could think of to get a “professional” job.  Greg, my husband, took a position as a Speech and Debate Coach at a high school.  After a year at WSU, I was qualified to interview at CPA firms.  I was ecstatic to accept a position with the largest CPA firm in the nation, Peat, Marwick, Mitchell & Co (now KPMG).  Yes, the overachiever was back in business.

The Peat, Marwick office in Wichita had 30 professionals at that time.  Imagine my surprise when I discovered that I was the first woman ever to be hired on the audit staff—yes really.  There were two women on the tax staff so I was not alone but definitely in the minority.  I knew everyone could see me shaking when I walked into the office on my first day.  Undoubtedly, I would be scrutinized.

On the first day of orientation I felt nauseous in the pit of my stomach. My intuition was telling me something.  When I got the brochure that instructed women in the firm how to dress, essentially like the men, I knew I was forging new territory.

At the first client to whom I was assigned, the accounting staff thought I was a bookkeeper—so did the second client.  I could feel my temperature rise and my heart race as I smiled and explained I was an Auditor.  I just couldn’t escape the bookkeeper title!  Was it at the third client where the accounting manager asked me to sit on his lap?  He thought I was cute…  They didn’t cover that situation at the orientation.

As time went on, I didn’t gain confidence, I became more nervous.  I didn’t believe I was as talented as the other auditors and I couldn’t focus.  I was regularly working fifty to sixty-hour weeks.  I was always fatigued and dreaded going to work.

My heavy work load weighed heavily on my strained marriage and Greg complained constantly.  My anxiety attacks got more severe and I couldn’t sleep.  I started pacing the floor at night.  One day the room closed in on me and I couldn’t catch my breath.  As I was gasping for air I wondered if I was going insane.  I didn’t know if I could survive another day.  The emotional turmoil was just too great.  Out of panic and desperation, I checked myself into the hospital.

They didn’t say it was a nervous breakdown, but that’s what it must have been.  I was away from work for three weeks.  The silver lining of this experience was that I was assigned to a psychiatrist while I was in the hospital that used hypnosis as a relaxation technique.  Little did I know at the time how much this therapy would help me in the future.*

*For a more detailed description of self-hypnosis, see my Premium Content.

Next—The Challenges Continue

Training Report

My training for the Lincoln (Nebraska) Marathon on May 1^st is on track.  I ran total weekly mileage of 55 miles including an 8-mile speed workout on the treadmill, a 17-mile long run on asphalt on Saturday and a 7-mile trail run on hills on Sunday.

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What happens in childhood shapes our being and view of the world.  I often wondered why I have such an intense desire to achieve.  Looking at my childhood, I see the roots of my fear and anger taking hold.  As we enter our forties, we are either getting sick from carrying the emotional burdens of childhood or we are learning to purge and make peace with the past.

I grew up in a small town in Kansas outside of Wichita.  My mother was twenty years old when I was born.  I was the second of four children.  My sister and I were only fourteen months apart.  My mother was the first in her family to graduate from high school.  My father had to quit high school to help support his family—his father was an alcoholic.  Life was a struggle for my young parents and my sister and I, especially, assimilated their fear and insecurity.

Regarding athletics, one particular early event sticks out in my mind.  When I entered fifth grade, Mrs. Hamilton, our teacher, took us girls aside and told us we were no longer allowed to play on the jungle gym.  “You are young ladies now, and ladies do not do such things,” she said.  I was devastated and felt my first inkling of defiance.  Why was this fair?  Boys were free to express themselves and be physical.  Girls were destined to be quiet and proper.  Can you even imagine that happening today?

The athletic discrimination did not stop there.  It continued all the way through high school.  Where I grew up, there were no opportunities for girls to participate in sports.  As girls, our function was to support and cheer for the boys who had the privilege of exercise and competition.  I felt angry and cheated.

My parents instilled a fierce drive to succeed in all of us kids.  They worked hard and brought themselves up from practically nothing to owning and operating a successful business of their own.  Both of my parents attended college and my father earned the equivalent of a college degree.  All of us kids, especially my sister and I, were brainwashed to learn to take care of ourselves and to GO TO COLLEGE!  Every one of us graduated from college—a testament to my parents persuasive skills.

But back to high school—I was bored.  It was a typical, sleepy small town high school.  I don’t remember ever doing homework… I needed something to do so I took a job at the local Dari-ette.  It was fun, but I was still restless.  I felt anxious—like something bad was about to happen.

I was told as I was growing up that I was argumentative and stubborn.  I’m sure people who know me today would never agree with that remark.…  I don’t remember how I got involved with the high school speech and debate team, but it seemed like a good fit.  I liked it.  I learned how to form arguments and write persuasive speeches.  I experienced some success and it felt good.  I learned lifelong skills.  Today, I don’t just argue aimlessly, I debate with well-structured arguments…

After high school, I entered community college because I was, well, brainwashed to go to college.  Imagine my surprise when I found out I had to study!  But it was a challenge and I felt driven.  Little did I know that I would soon be driving myself to exhaustion.  Most overachievers have something to prove.  I was no exception.  I decided to join the college speech and debate team—thinking I could argue my way to happiness.

It was on the debate team that I met Greg.  He was handsome, smart and charismatic.  We fell madly in love and got married after our sophomore year thinking that lust…I mean love would support us.  After 2 years at community college, we were both offered speech scholarships at Bethel College in North Newton, Kansas, a small, private college, but with a nationally ranked speech program.

Did I mention that marriage was a bad idea while in college?  Life was grueling.  The pressure to perform was enormous.  My bookkeeping job required 20 to 30 hours per week and I was traveling constantly with the speech and debate team on weekends.  Greg and I fought bitterly.

I needed a stress release.  I walked out to the track and attempted to run around it.  I couldn’t make it even once around the track.  Gasping for air, I hung my head, “I don’t have time for this.”  It only worsened my feeling of anguish and despair.

I developed sinus problems and felt dizzy from the pressure.  I starting taking various pills and took shots to relieve my hay fever symptoms.  I began to have anxiety attacks—the world was closing in on me.

I was crumbling under the pressure.

How Greg and I graduated is a blur.  But in 1976 I earned a degree in Business Administration and Economics.  I won a total of twenty-four trophies while at Bethel and earned a special speech award at graduation.  I was also awarded the Wall Street Journal award for being the top business student.  Okay, okay…it was a small college but it was an accomplishment nonetheless.

The overachiever was temporarily satisfied.  With accomplishments in hand, I looked forward to a career as a professional business person.  But when I started looking for a job—I hit a barrier.

Next–Breaking Carrier Barriers

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