Do Hard Things

I finished teaching a cycle class, I was sweaty, still hyper, retrieving my music from the stereo when he approached me. I was eyeing him a bit from the front of the room. Younger guy about my age, super cute, in great shape, and he was now about to talk to me. My nerves kicked in a bit and my stomach did a flip. I hope he had something good to say.

"Great class, I really enjoyed it."

Okay, not so bad, pretty basic, a compliment, I can handle this. "Thanks," I say, "spinning is one of my favorite classes to teach."

He introduced himself, asked about me and eventually got my phone number.

Nice, cute and interested in me? No way.

Later that night he calls, not even the three day rule. For some reason I was fascinated in him. I didn't meet many guys in L.A. that weren't complete jerks, I was 21 years old and never had a boyfriend and this cute guy just called me.

He says hello, I say hi back and somehow throughout the course of our conversation we touch, no we dive into the topic of embarrassing stories.

He says I could never top his.

I say he could never top mine.

We exchange stories.

Mine: 17 years old, jumping a fence in a bathing suit waiting for all the cute boys to meet us at the pool, I hang myself by my bathing suit bottoms on the fence as everyone shows up.

His: Elementary school, white jeans were IN, first day of school. He stands up to ask the teacher something, and his newly sharpened pencil rolls off the desk into the chair. He sits again, stabbing his butt with this newly sharped pencil, screams as blood is running down his newly white jeaned butt. No one was nice to him all year, kids can be so cruel.

For the fist time someone beat me.

Throughout the conversation I packed my clothes telling him of my future plans.

After informing him of my soon to be whereabouts, there was not much said. No 'when can I see you?'. No 'lets meet for lunch'. Just kind of awkward silence tinged with a little sadness on both ends. For the first time I was a little saddened by the plans I had for my future, the plans to go have fun. Yes I just met him, and him me but there was something there, there could have been something there.

We hung up and I stared at his phone number written on a scrap of paper. I wondered what to do. Would he remember me when I got back? We speak once and I'm gone for a year.

I threw away his phone number and the next morning boarded a flight to Turks and Caicos. I never saw or spoke to him again.

Moving away. Missed opportunities. Things that don't really go your way. Not getting closer. Not figuring things out. Not letting a situation run its grimy little course. All things people mull over, again and again and again.

Moving was the best thing I have ever done. My life would not be what it is now if I didn't get the courage to move away from everything I've known to a place I've never been.

I moved away to some far away land. I met all new people, met many new friends, and my life changed course. I became enamored with traveling. Everything I worked so hard for back at home became meaningless, a life I thought I wanted was beginning to fade as I looked ahead and pursued new passions. I met more people. I tried to speak french. I got a suntan. I wondered why people don't leave the world they knew to try new things.

I moved back home and away again, got into a career that paid so little but promised so much life experience. I relished in it. I took up new opportunities and moved away again and again. I made new friends and moved away from them.

I met my husband and moved away one last time. This is the last time, I thought.

Moving away has always been the best thing I have done. Moving caused me to lose friends. If proximity tears a friendship, they weren't good enough friends in the first place. Moving cause me to gain friends. Moving may have ruined a relationship I could have had with the guy I met in a spinning class but in no way would this guy even come close to the awesomeness of my husband, who I would not have met if I had not moved, countless times.

I recently read a blog about a 17 year old sailing the wold BY HIMSELF, the top of his blog in bold letters read, 'DO HARD THINGS'. It's so simple yet so complex. Doing hard things. What is more difficult, the actual hard thing itself or the pursuit of said thing, the letting go of your comfort zone and going after your goal?

I hear so many people list the things they regret, opportunities they gave up for something so miniscule. I'm a firm believer of things happening or not happening for a reason. I moved away, started life over and over again in new places, met my husband, had a baby and am living happily ever after. It doesn't mean that things won't change again, that we won't be moving, meeting new friends, pursing new careers. We are CURRENTLY figuring out what we want to do, do we make that move to his possible new job location, Will we like this new place, do we give it up to stay here, with our friends, our home, our restaurants? It reminds me of the times I moved to places I thought I would hate but quickly fell in love with so why do I still have these reservations?

My challenge to all of us however, is to do hard things. Don't let something so small hold you back, don't have regrets, get out of your comfort zone, MOVE, challenge yourself because you might find that one thing you think you are giving up is really the best thing to get rid of and THEN you are rewarded with so much more.

Do hard things, give up and gain more.