Passing confidence and joy on to my daughter

Yesterday, my talented, amazing daughter, Katie, and I celebrated her 27th birthday by trying SUP--stand-up paddle boarding. I'm all about giving her an empowering experience to celebrate her special day rather than buying a trinket that would soon be forgotten. She'd mentioned she wanted to try SUP. I was happy to provide this adventure.

In the past few years, I've arranged several mother-daughter adventures that bond us together. These experiences have made us stronger, more confident women, too. And we always have fun!

One Mother's Day a couple of years ago, I took Katie to an archery range and taught her to shoot a bow. She's become a very good shot.

On the archery range for Mother's Day

We've gone hiking in the Columbia River Gorge multiple times. 

Kate hiking in the Columbia River Gorge

Last summer we rode a zip line at a family reunion. 

Kate ready to ride a zip line last summer.

Yesterday I was not surprised that Katie was a natural on the stand-up paddling board. With her years of dance experience and the muscles she's developed as a baker for Salt & Straw, she stood up with ease. When I was still summoning the nerve to try standing up, she was already paddling with confidence. That made me smile. 

A couple of years ago, I'd tried SUP twice, and it was easy. Then I was strong and balanced easily on the wide board. My dragon boating and kayaking instincts took over. I didn't have any fear. I was the Mighty Woman who reinvented myself at age 50 and went on one fearless adventure after another. Along the way, as I changed and grew, I modeled strength, courage and resilience for my daughter.

But yesterday on the paddle board, it was different. I was different. Although Katie and her boyfriend, Keegan stood up effortlessly and paddled along the lake, I still was kneeling on my board. I had to dig deep within myself to find the courage to stand up. 

It was the first time I'd tried SUP since crushing both my wrists 10 months ago. I knew I've lost strength and agility. I was prepared for that. But what I hadn't realized until I climbed onto the board is that I've also lost my Dragon Diva dose of confidence. My fearlessness. Preparing to stand up, I moved from kneeling on the board to crouching with my feet placed so they were perfectly balanced. At that point, the old me would have stood up and started paddling. But I couldn't. Irrational fear gripped me. Instead, I had to give myself my go-to pep talk: "You're a Mighty Woman. You're the woman with the dragon tattoo. You can do this!"

After breathing deeply to calm myself, I tried to stand up, but the board wobbled and I quickly knelt back down. I tried again, and again. At one point, I stood, started paddling, but lost my balance and fell hard on my my hands--and therefore, my wrists. That scared me. I have permanent titanium plates in both wrists. My surgeon said it would take quite a force to damage my wrists again. But falling so hard on my wrists made me even more tentative. When I finally stood up, my legs felt like Jell-o. The paddling part was easy. The balancing part? Not as easy. But I did it!

After I stood up and was paddling, I looked over at my daughter. She'd fallen off her board into the lake. Immediately she climbed back on and stood up again. Just like that! I smiled at my beautiful, courageous daughter, who has climbed some pretty tough mountains the past couple of years. She's a survivor, that daughter of mine. Just like her mama. With the sun shining on the lake, she paddled with a strong stroke--and grinned. Standing on wobbly legs, I paddled strong strokes too. We are Mighty Women, after all.

Kate and me after stand-up paddle boarding on Lacamas Lake.
 I didn't take any  photos of her paddle boarding because 
I was busy trying to stand up on my own board.

This weekend I gave my daughter another gift: my purple bike named Joy. I bought the sturdy, fat-tired Schwinn at a neighborhood estate sale years ago. I named my bike Joy because at the time, I hungered for joy in my life. Together, Joy and I explored the neighborhood and the Columbia River waterfront. Riding Joy gave me the courage to face the unhappiness in my life and to reach toward the hope of a joyful future. I've certainly found a joyful life. But I hadn't ridden Joy much in the past couple of years because my life was so full with dragon boating, kayaking, hiking, learning to swing dance and having many other adventures.

Last week when Katie mentioned that she'd like a bike with a basket to ride to the grocery store and around the neighborhood, I replied: "I'll give you Joy!"

"Really? I've always loved Joy!" she beamed.

When we unloaded the bike at Katie's house, I told her: "I am giving you Joy. Remember that Joy now lives in your house. You can ride her around the neighborhood whenever you need a dose of Joy."

Passing the torch of Joy to my daughter felt so right.Now she will be filled with joy and confidence, too--and ready for her next adventure.

My purple bike named Joy on a ride to the Columbia River.

Passing Joy, my purple garage-sale bike, on to my daughter.

Learning positive self-talk from Emma Peel

When I was seven, I wanted to be Emma Peel.
What girl wouldn't want to be beautiful, sexy, smart and confident?

Think back to a time when you felt beautiful, powerful, intelligent, confident. Maybe even sexy. What inspired you to feel that way about yourself? I clearly remember my inspiration: Emma Peel.

When I was seven, the TV screen was populated by one Western program after another, and few offered any suitable role models for a young girl looking for adventure. I tried pretending to be Miss Kitty from "Gunsmoke," but she was uninspiring.

Then one night, my older sister, Becky, tuned our TV to "The Avengers," and the confidant, beautiful, sexy Emma Peel entered our living room wearing a tight, black leather catsuit, black boots and lipstick. She drove a convertible sports car too. Mrs. Peel exuded confidence like no other woman I'd ever seen. She had my attention.

An expert at karate, fencing and all manner of weaponry, Emma Peel was not the usual kind of female TV character who needed to be rescued by a man. In fact, she often rescued Mr. Steed from danger. Emma Peel was a spy. A secret agent. And she was super cool. Now here was the kind of woman I wanted to become!

My cousin, Donette and I had spent our time playing pioneers and "I Dream of Jeannie," but now we started playing "spy girls." I don't remember much about our spy missions, but I still smile when I think of how much fun we had creating exciting adventures as invincible girl spies solving crimes and saving the world.

All the way through elementary school, I felt I could do anything. I was an intrepid girl spy, after all. But then something happened to my self confidence.

How old were we when we began doubting ourselves and stopped believing we could do anything? Was it at puberty? When we first began noticing boys? When other girls starting demeaning us?

Entering the awkward, geeky junior high years, my confidence waned. I certainly did not look like Emma Peel. Nor did I feel powerful and confident. I didn't need other girls to demean me because I did a pretty good job of it all by myself.

Through my teens, twenties and even thirties, my inner conversation with myself went something like this: "You're not good enough. You're not pretty. You're fat. Your nose is too big. Your breasts are too small."
The saddest part is that I often vocalized my self-talk even after I became a mother, and my daughter heard me belittling myself constantly.

Shame on me. A woman should love herself. And that includes loving her body.

It wasn't until I was in my late forties that I began to channel Emma Peel again. Don't get me wrong. I know I am never going to be a spy. But I began to find that strong inner voice again.

When I catch myself thinking negative thoughts about myself, I replace them with positive thoughts. "You can do this!" has become my new mantra.

I've since apologized to my young adult daughter for putting myself down in front of her. All of her life, I've made a point of telling her that she's beautiful and smart. She is.

Now I can admit that I too, am smart. And even beautiful.

In the past few years, I hope that I've shown her that any woman, even a middle-aged woman, can be smart, confidant and beautiful if she believes in herself.

The next time you have a negative thought about yourself, stop. Take a deep breath. Then pretend that you're Emma Peel, confident, sexy spy. Tell yourself how marvelous and brave you are.When you hold your head up high and believe in yourself, others will believe in you too.

Letting Go of Fear & Stepping Off the Platform

Last week at my family reunion I had the opportunity to ride a zip line for the first time in my life.

Relatives of all ages, sizes and fitness levels were zipping down the hill. I was eager to try this adventure.

With my zip line harness and hard hat in place, I  climbed up a tree, hand-over-hand up the spikes  until I reached the zip line platform. A man at the top attached my harness to the zip line, offered his hand as I stepped onto the platform and told me to step off whenever I was ready.

I looked down below. And then I froze.

What the heck was I doing? Why did I think I could muster the courage to step off the platform into nothing but air? Would the line hold me? What if something went wrong?

Then I took a few deep breaths, just like Jeanie, my dragon boat coach, has taught me to do before a race.

In the seconds it took to breathe deeply, I began to think clearly. I remembered I wasn't the same fearful woman I had been two years earlier.

Now I'm all about being brave and trying new experiences. I've tried kayaking, SUP (stand up paddleboard) and snowshoeing. Three times a week I paddle a dragon boat with the Mighty Women Paddling Club. I've exercised regularly, made better food choices and have lost 45 pounds so far. In the process, I've gained confidence. But I still face fearful situations.

Earlier that morning I'd been swimming in the lake with cousins and siblings when I'd found the courage to climb up the diving board ladder and forced myself to jump off the diving board--something I had never been able to do. I jumped multiple times to convince myself I'd finally conquered my diving board fear.

Yet here I was, standing on the zip line platform and paralyzed with fear. I looked down. This was a LOT higher than the diving board. But I had a secure harness to keep me from falling. It was safe.

Taking some more deep breaths, I told myself, "You can do this."

I stepped off the platform--and began zipping through the air. Exhilarating! True, I screamed like a girl all the way down the hill, but I kept my eyes open and enjoyed the ride.

What fears are holding you back from stepping off the platform and experiencing your next adventure? Let go of your fear. Take some deep breaths. And then step off the platform. That first step is a doozy, but what a ride awaits you!

For my next adventure I'm considering windsurfing lessons.

Finding your Mojo Even on an Off Day

You know those bad days when everything that can go wrong does? We all suffer through one from time to time. Yesterday I had one of those days. Throughout my entire day at work I felt "off."

I got a late start driving to Portland for my evening dragon boat practice, and when I reached the marina, I wasted time searching for cheaper street parking. Realizing I was very late, I parked in a more expensive parking garage, grabbed my paddle and gear bag and started running along the marina promenade.

In the distance I spied my teammates, who already had finished their warm-up exercises and were walking down the gangway to the dock. I kept running, but realized I likely would miss the boat. That would be the perfect ending to a hard day.

But I ran faster and caught up with my team down on the dock. Most of them already were in the boat.

"You're late!" coach Jeanie said.

 I strapped on a life vest, hurriedly climbed into the boat, and while I was attempting to sit, I fell over backward and flopped around like a fish. My teammates burst out laughing.

My first thought was, "Maybe I should have just stayed home. Why did I think I could paddle today?"

But I pulled myself up, got into position, closed my eyes, and took some deep breaths.

"You can do this," I reassured myself.

Then the most amazing thing happened: I found my mojo!

Somehow, my brain and my body finally understood everything I've been learning on my previous four paddling practices. The position of my body, the powerful stroke, the following through and keeping in rhythm with my fellow paddlers all came together in this zen experience.

I dug into the water with confidence, and with each stroke, I exhaled a gutteral "whoo" that seemed to boost my power and my awareness of how I was one with my teammates as we pulled together to glide across the Willamette River on a starlit night.

 I forgot all about my bad day and was aware only of my stroke, and the next stroke, and the next. Nothing else mattered.

We paddled under two bridges. Then coach Jeanie mercifully called: "Let it run." That's the signal for us to stop paddling, pull our blades from the water and let the boat coast while we take a short break. We reached for our water bottles..

My seatmate commented, "You're really paddling tonight."

I smiled and took a deep drink of water.