“I’ve learned that possibly the greatest detractor from high performance is fear: fear that you are not prepared, fear that you are in over your head, fear that you are not worthy, and ultimately, fear of failure. If you can eliminate that fear – not through arrogance or just wishing difficulties away, but through hard work and preparation – you will put yourself in an incredibly powerful position to take on the challenges you face.”
- Pete Carroll
It’s story time! Warning, it’s a long one, but important to me and my growth as a human.
I played volleyball for roughly 23 years of my life and it’s pretty safe to say that it was a big part of my identity. Conceptually, I understood that my identity shouldn’t be wrapped up in what I did, but when you pursue something for so long, the lines can become blurred and there is less and less separation between the two worlds. I knew that I wanted to be the best volleyball player I could be. I also knew that I wanted to become a mother. My plan was to take some time off following the Rio Olympics, have a baby, and return to the court. However, I had two children during that time and I didn’t return to the court. Things don’t always go according to plan and that’s ok. I love my girls and couldn’t imagine life without them. However, not having an element of finality to my volleyball career always sat in the back of my mind.
I gave birth to my first child in July of 2017. If all things went perfectly I’d likely have been back on the court in the spring of 2018. I felt the pull to get back out there but I couldn’t really see an obvious path back. I would jokingly speak about it to family and friends, but never took the step towards formally re-entering the volleyball world. I didn’t realize how hard having a child could be on your body and I was afraid that I wouldn’t be who I once was. My first attempt was to come back to the court, but in a different position, as a libero (I’m normally a setter). I genuinely loved training as a libero, but I had a built in safety net. If I wasn’t any good, I could say it was a long shot anyway (I think this would be a good spot to add what this is called in psychology). In the end, it didn’t work out, but I was pretty grateful for the time spent on it because it made me a more well rounded coach.
As time passed, the itch to play didn’t go away. I asked a friend/mentor what they thought about my coming back legitimately, in my normal position as a setter. I realized shortly thereafter that I approached it poorly. I was really tentative and lacked conviction for fear of rejection. When we sat down and made a list of pros and cons, I immediately pulled back and suggested maybe this wasn’t the best idea. Instead of taking a step back and sorting through the situation, I decided to go for baby number two.
“Don’t ever make decisions based on fear. Make decisions based on hope and possibility. Make decisions based on what should happen, not what shouldn’t.”
- Michelle Obama
While pregnant with baby number two, I got a really amazing opportunity to coach at Stanford University. They were coming off a National Championship, and I felt like there was no better opportunity as a coach. Our family was in transition as my husband was stepping away from playing professionally as well, so we moved to Palo Alto (we were in SoCal at the time) and I started my career in coaching.
I’d done some work on deciding who I wanted to be when I stopped playing volleyball, and I came to the conclusion that I liked learning, I liked helping other people learn, and giving back to the sport that gave me so much sounded good. I come from a long line of coaches and teachers, led by my Grandfather Larry Glass, who became the head basketball coach at Northwestern University at the young age of 28. I knew I could be a good coach. It was in my DNA.
When I started coaching, it immediately made me miss playing. Don’t get me wrong, I thoroughly enjoyed connecting with the staff and players, learning the areas of the job I didn’t know much about, and being back in the volleyball ecosystem. But in the back of my mind, I thought, what if? No, no, no that was too scary to admit to myself, let alone anyone around me. I didn’t even know what it would look like to come back. Where would I train? How much work would it take? Would I be too far removed from the game and not have what it takes physically? Would people question the thought of me trying to come back after being out of the game for so many years. Every fear and doubt you could imagine.
My husband’s post playing career started to take off about a year later and it started pulling him back to Southern California more frequently. Then the Covid pandemic happened and the world changed. He and I decided that we’d try for a third child and that it would be best for our kids and our family if I stepped away from my coaching position and moved back down to SoCal.
Moving and stepping away from coaching, created space and time to figure out what was next. I reconnected with Dr. Mike (who I’ve mentioned before) and had the opportunity to pursue my current role as a Mindset Coach. I was really excited because of how much this work helped me in my career. In one of our first conversations, he asked about my vision and how he could help me execute on it (which is an amazing way to connect with people you work with). Also, as part of my onboarding, I got to take our course and re-familiarize myself with the work.
What was my vision? What was possible for me? What would allow me to bring my authentic self and challenge me to be a high performer again? Was I playing it safe or going for it? I was definitely playing it safe. What an opportunity to spend time asking myself the hard questions. To begin to whittle down what was once a broad vision into a clear and concise vision statement. I was able to reconnect to the content and also reconnect with the inner work that had been so beneficial to me as a player. I realized that many of these tools could also be applied to motherhood and my daily life, which created a more focused motivation to embrace the information.
I decided to have another difficult, but similar conversation with the same friend/mentor of mine, only this time I would make it clear that I had conviction and clarity of vision. I wanted to hear their thoughts, but also knew that I’d pursue getting back on the court regardless of what they said. It was amazing having a similar conversation four years later contextually, but to show up in a completely different way. My vision was clear, my conviction was high and I was intentional in my approach. Leaning into the uncertainty and putting myself out on the edge of discomfort allowed me to feel strong in my vulnerability. And the response was different. Not because they were different, but because I was.
“Imagine how we would be if we were less afraid.”
― Charlie Mackesy, The Boy, the Mole, the Fox and the Horse
So I started working out and training on the court, and it was HUMBLING. The worries that I wouldn’t be great or that I couldn’t pick up where I left off creeped in. In the beginning that was true, I wasn’t great and I was pretty far from where I left off, but I got to work on getting comfortable being uncomfortable AND I got to laugh at myself (not my strength). I like learning and training new skills, and I paired that with the knowledge and clarity of skill that I had gained as a coach, and that helped me stay in it. I also got to reconnect to passion, I genuinely enjoy playing the sport and competing.
Ruminating on or worrying about the worst things that could happen becomes the fear that holds us back. What if we just called them challenges and difficult moments, knowing that they aren’t our final destination, but just a stop along the way, and we could use those moments to become better at adapting and adjusting. If we did that more often, the fears don’t hold us back because we view them differently, and use them to our advantage.
In January, as people tend to take moments to reflect on the past year and plan for the next one, they often write their New Year's Resolutions. At work (Finding Mastery), we took a slightly different approach. The question was: What is your year going to be about? What’s the headline? Fill in the blank, “The Year of ________” I knew that mine had to be around that idea that doing amazing things, or pursuing high performance only happened when I leaned into discomfort, going for it rather than playing it safe. I decided that for me it would be, “The Year of the Edge”. That’s the space where I want to be existing more and more often.
If you weren’t aware, there has never been a sustainable professional women’s volleyball league in the US. An organization called Athletes Unlimited (AU) created a volleyball league (after launching in other sports) here in the States. So when I decided to really go for it, to play again professionally, AU was the best way for me to do that. They are not only supportive of mothers but actually want mothers to be in the league so that all female athletes know that there is a place for them, that they don’t have to choose between motherhood and having a playing career.
I put myself out there on the edge. I played in a league professionally, after 6 years off, after three babies. My body wasn’t what it once was, either aesthetically or dynamically, but my knowledge of the game was high, my ability to adjust and learn on the fly was present, and I got to genuinely have fun playing the sport that I have always loved. I got to share in that love with my kids, who had no concept of me as a volleyball player prior to this. It was really fun out there on the edge.
Is there something that YOU want to pursue, but fears or doubts are holding you back? Spend some time thinking that through, what’s coming up for you? I’d be happy to connect and talk more about my experience. It’s not that the fears or worries don’t come up for me anymore, but my relationship with them has changed. I’m CHOOSING to be out on the edge, and with that comes uncertainty, and I’m starting to enjoy what it feels like to continue to put myself out there.
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