Launch something, sometime, and you’ll know what I’m saying:
at some point during every launch, I look around and go, “What-the-fuck was I thinking? This is a ton of work, and I have no idea how it’s going to go, and I’m tired and just want to watch bad television.”
Being a runner, I liken this to getting really tired towards the end of a race. You burn through the early stores of glycogen and then your body starts playing some Jedi mind tricks on you to get you to stop doing this crazy thing–run–when clearly it’s far more expedient to walk. Or crawl. Or just sit on the curb and watch other people run.
But there’s a reason why we run.
There are reasons why we do the things in life that take a lot of work, that promise no financial return, that have no guarantee at the end.
We run because we want to prove to ourselves that we can do it.
We run because something within us wants to live, expressed, running.
We run because what’s hard keeps you humble.
And in this launch (run), I remembered that part of why you run is because there are people on the sidelines, many of them you don’t even know, who are going to tell you again and again: YOU CAN DO THIS.
It’s my favorite part of road racing. It’s my favorite part of launching.
you are held
You are held–do you know this? People are rooting for you. As I sent out updates last night–something I did myself, sending out each and every single one–I was thinking of each coach, acupunturist, massage therapist, intuitive, or anyone else in a client based business who had purchased The Coaching Blueprint.
Each name connected me to an email, a post on Facebook. I kept smiling to myself and thinking, Wow. These are some seriously quality people. Such love for them.
Even though launching is a harrowing, tiresome process, it also connects you with getting–truly getting–that you are held.
People are holding space for you. People are rooting for you. Your “customers” (an odd and distancing term for the many coaches and others who I hold in such high regard) are rooting for you. Your friends are rooting for you.
I look around my office, and I cry–I have community. I am held.
These women held me tight, helped me dot every “i” and cross every “t”:
The love is unnameable, and it’s mostly shown because these people chose to do an amazing thing: show up in support of the work.
I extend to all of you my heartfelt gratitude and care. Thank you for being my wing-people, encouraging me when I was tired and inspiring me to do better. Thank you for second sets of eyes, and thank you for asking this one, simple question:
How can I help?
One simple question, and another human being knows–she is held.