TriAptitude Coaching

“For the truth is that I already know as much about my fate as I need to know. The day will come when I will die. So the only matter of consequence before me is what I will do with my allotted time. I can remain on shore, paralyzed with fear, or I can raise my sails and dip and soar in the breeze.”
― Richard Bode, First You Have to Row a Little Boat: Reflections on Life & Living

My father was a funny, kind and wise man.  He grew up in Cincinnati and moved to Del Ray Beach, Florida as a teenager when his father James Monroe became ill. My grandfather died when my father was only a teenager. He was the youngest of three sons. My grandmother, Martha Shipley Monroe, raised three teenage sons on her own after losing her husband.  My Dad was a lawyer by profession and a sailor by passion. He grew up spending his summers on the East Coast in Christmas Cove, Maine with his mother and her parents.  My great grandfather, Murray Shipley, built a house on the end of Rutherford Island in 1917.  It is a incredible spot where Greg and I take our own children and celebrate family history more than 100 years later.  We share the time there with my mother, my brothers, my sister and all of our families. There are a lot of memories for all of us on Shipley Point.  Some are very happy memories and others are very sad.  I remember playing in the Periwinkle Pool as a child. It was my favorite thing to do.  I used to sail in our sailboat the “Lyric” with my father and my siblings.  When we were stuck without wind and I had to go to the bathroom, Dad would just tie a rope around me and throw me overboard and then haul me right back in.  It made me laugh. He would just say, “Courts, not a big deal. All sailors have to pee at sea.” I laugh thinking about it.  And then, there are the sad memories too. My father died in Maine in 2003.

My visits to Maine now come with feelings of closeness to my father spiritually but also the pain of knowing that his suffering and death happened there as well.  It’s a bittersweet scenario. Yet, as the years have passed, it has once again become much more the joyful place for me rather than a sad one. A family friend once told me after my father’s death that the painful memories would eventually fade and be replaced once again with the happy ones of our time together.  This has been very true for me.  I have so many childhood memories of our summers there as a family and I see the same experiences with my own children. They are following in the legacy of a grandfather they never had the chance of meeting in person.  We have this special place to celebrate our family and the history of my father and all of the Shipley family.

When Greg and I were married on July 28, 2001, my father gave the most remarkable toast at our wedding reception.  At the time I was planning our wedding, I did not want to have a videographer.  Now I am so sad that I did not.  I wish I could pop in a tape and watch my Dad, hear his voice and relive the loving message he gave to Greg and me that night.  His speech was inspired by the book, “First You Have To Row a Little Boat” by Richard Bode.  It was a perfect metaphor since my Dad had such a love for sailing. Every summer in Maine, he was up at the crack of dawn, rallying all of us to go out to the Lyric and set sail as a family.  In his later years, as Dad became less steady on his feet, he would choose to row the LuLee J, our wooden row boat, out to the islands off of our property.  It was always about family, spending time together, being on the water, exploring new adventures, supporting and loving one another.  As a child, teenager and younger adult, I did not fully understand all of this.  Often, I just wanted to hole up in my bedroom and listen to my Walkman or read a book…”Oh, Dad. No!!, I do not feel like rowing right now!!”  Typical teenage attitude.  Now, I would give anything in the world to row a little boat with him.

On the day of our wedding,  Dad was thoroughly prepared to give his speech.  It reminded me of when I saw him in Nashville up in front of the judge and jury presenting an antitrust case back when I was in 8th grade. Except this time, it was all personal and focused on the future of his daughter and new son in law.   He had a dry board with a great blown up photograph of an older man rowing a boat with a young child in the foggy seascape of Christmas Cove, Maine.  It’s a photo my Uncle Bill had taken decades ago.  It is now framed and in Greg’s and my bedroom.  It has been for the past 19 years.   Dad talked to us about all of the lessons we would learn together as a couple and then as a family as we had our own children.  How we must first learn to row a little boat and build our lives from there.  He had put so much thought and love and preparation into his thoughts.  I am forever inspired and touched by that night.

Part of the inspiration for this speech was not only Richard Bode’s book and the fabulous life lessons related through it but also a special wooden row boat of our own which my mother had gifted to my father several years earlier.  We needed a new dinghy to get us all out to the mooring of the Lyric and Mom had found a beautiful row boat to give to my Dad.  When asked what he wanted to name it, my father replied simply, “I think we will name it the “Snorkeldorff II”.  He called me the next day to ask me if that would be alright with me. He felt like he needed to “okay” it with me. You see, I am “Snorkeldorff I”. Yes, it is a crazy and somewhat hideous nickname my two brothers gave me as a child.  After all these years, I am not even sure how they thought it up- you would have to ask Mur and Dave about that.   I grew us as “Snore” for most of my elementary years.  It just kind of stuck- for better or for worse. And now, it lives on, painted on the back of a beautiful wooden row boat on the waters off the coast of Maine. 

What life lessons have I learned since my wedding day?  What has marriage and motherhood taught me? And, what does any of this have to do with me as a triathlete or coach? Why am I writing about this on my blog? Well, I write about whatever comes to my mind and seems important at the time to me. I try to choose topics which others find relatable.  I know that there are many women (and men also) who are afraid to follow a dream for fear of failure.  They hold back because they are scared.  I’ve learned a lot through the years about relationships.  I’ve learned that in order to be the best person I can be and support the ones I love, I must certainly take care of myself.  I must take ownership of my decisions and responsibility for the life I have and the one I want to create for myself and for my family.  Some changes have been subtle and some have been much more pronounced. For every personal experience we have, there are psychological, emotional and physical results which allow us to revisit decisions and change our point of view.  We grow emotionally as we get older and accumulate these experiences.  Just as we learn to navigate the waters, we become more capable and proficient as women, men, mothers, fathers, wives, husbands as we negotiate the challenges of  life and learn from them to become better, stronger more adept people. All of these lessons transfer to other areas of  life.

By taking care of myself, I have learned that I am a better mother and wife by allowing myself the freedom to follow my own passions and push myself out of my comfort zone to the unknown.  Stretch my limits and see what else there is to me to discover. There has to be a balance for growth and success to occur.  By grabbing the courage to do so, I found myself a stronger and more self-relient woman.  I started to truly believe in myself and my personal value. First you have to row a little boat, then you learn to set up the sails, you set out to sea (perhaps in all the wrong directions) and eventually you are sailing on course as a confident, insightful captain of your own ship.  It’s a journey. Patience, flexibility, compassion, forgiveness and love are all a part of the journey. I discovered years ago that in order for me to soar, I had to let go of the fear and raise my own personal sails.

Connor, Matthew and Tommy have slowly learned how to row a little boat over the years with Greg and me as their guides. There have been capsizes and kids thrown overboard. I think the boat has sunk a few times.  But, Greg and I have always pulled it back to shore, reloaded and gotten back out onto the water every time.  There have been the greatest of storms and there have been the most peaceful and beautiful days out on that water. Each experience has held lessons in love and value for us.  The boys have grown and I think (hope) they are ready to move on to the bigger boats, raise their own sails and conquer the larger, more independent challenges.   I reflect back on what life was like for us 10 years ago and I am truly amazed (and oh so thankful) for the young men they are becoming.  Perhaps when the day comes, I too will speak of “rowing a little boat” as I congratulate our sons on new beginnings.