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The Fat Lady Doesn’t Sing

I'm just going to keep moving if that's cool with you guys. — I’m just going to keep moving if that’s cool with you guys.

Last week, I scrolled upon a friend and former collegiate athlete’s Instagram picture. The image was of her on the track running in her first race in two years.

Having taken time off for a variety of reasons, she was obviously excited to be back doing what she loved to do. I could tell from this one little snapshot, that my friend had her eyes and her heart on something bigger than her next race.

On her picture, she included the hashtag #idonthearthefatladysinging

I’ve been friends with her since she was in high school. She and her younger brother were in our high school youth group and although we were both kind of quiet people, we usually found a common bond talking about sports. She ran track in college and I could tell through conversations with her post-graduation, she was still in pursuit of a running career. I hadn’t played in years, but the way she spoke about running was palpable.

People like us never really stop playing our sport and we never stop trying to get better, even when some of our best laid plans don’t come to fruition on our own clock.

We are cut from a different cloth.

We practice when no one else is practicing, we believe when no one else believes, we dream when everyone else stops dreaming and when every one else is scratching their heads like “Wow. they did it.”

We are thinking. Of course, we did.

Because we knew all along goals aren’t lofty ideals we aim for “pie in the sky,” they are simply milestones we hit to get to the next stop.

We always have a next stop. Even when we are still or recovering or “retired.”

For us, there is always a next stop.

I double tapped and “liked” her picture and commented:

“The fat lady doesn’t sing for people like us. Go get ’em.”

And I believe that. Even though I’m 40 and I’ve already had what I would consider my sports career, I’m not finished yet.

I’m just setting myself up to get the next milestone.

Because if you’ve played sport at a high level, you play life at a high level too.

And the fat lady doesn’t sing for people like us.

Go get ’em.

8 Things I Miss About Playing Volleyball in the 80’s

I don't know who these people are, but God love 'em — I don’t know who these people are, but God love ’em – they may as well be me.

I could never have played volleyball today.

You guys are so explosive, so big, so powerful and so good! I have to admit, I’m kind of jealous.

Seeing my beloved game today makes me think that the game I fell in love with and played for almost twenty years is like a long-lost cousin with bad hair, flourescent scrunchies and knee pads that doubled as pillows during tournament breaks when we were “off two, ref one” before we played again.

But hear this 2015 volleyball, you ain’t got nuthin’ on the good old days. Here’s my head nod to the game I remember and things I’m kind of sad you will never understand:

1. Concrete courts – Dude. My first experience with competitive volleyball happened in the parking lot of my elementary Catholic school. Two metal poles holding up a very old net was all we needed to get our game on. We played all our games on the black top making sure to keep the ball (and our bodies) away from the basketball upright just inches from the service line. Avoiding the two metal poles that strung the net was imperative lest you end up with a big blue knot on your forehead. Do not even get me started on knee scrapes, arm scrapes and gravel injuries. You really had to love this game. I don’t even know how you people tear your ACL’s so frequently with the cushy lives you live on indoor courts!

2. Bun huggers – It wasn’t until I had children of my own that I realized that we used to play volleyball in maternity underwear. I mean, seriously, take the biggest pair of underwear ever invented and sew them out of the thickest cotton ever spun and then have young girls play a sport in them. To add insult to injury have them tuck their over-sized, extra-large, ill-fitting, beefy tee-shirt into that pair of underwear. I cannot even. BUT I DID. No one ever told us otherwise. We just wore this like it was normal. Good love, 2015, you guys have it made.

3. 5’8 Middle Blockers – I know, I know, your liberos are 5’8. I’d be hard pressed to find a middle under 6’3″ these days, let alone under 6’0. But back in my day, we had ’em – and they were feisty. See, our middles didn’t used to be the biggest or tallest players, most of the time they were are most athletic players. Why? Because they had to run all over tarnation to block balls AND they played middle back so they had to dig every single ball across the back line (we’ll get to playing six rotations in a second). 5’8 barely gets to sniff the court anymore and that’s kind of sad.

4. Playing all the way around – I’m not trying to be mean, but I feel sorry that you don’t know what it feels like to play all the way around. The rhythm you can get from being on the court in every rotation is pure happiness! It’s like your favorite song is on the radio or your favorite meal or your best pair of jeans and soft tee-shirt. I know there are a few of you still out there keeping the dream alive – enjoy it.

5. Marathon rally’s resulting in NO point – Omg, life without rally score. Once upon a time someone would go back to serve and sometimes a marathon three-minute rally would ensue. Just when you think the ball is going to drop, out of nowhere the ball is up and back over on your side. No hit was too hard, no block was too strong and no ball was out of distance to run down. But then the ball lands untouched on your side…and your team had served. AND NO ONE GETS A POINT. 2015, that is what I call heartbreak of the worst kind. You will never know heartbreak like that.

6. Marathon 5 game matches – There are no words for a match that lasts two and half hours. No words. Only throbbing shoulders, aching knees, empty water bottles and one team with the suckiest bus ride home. The end.

7. Defensive specialists – Do not confuse these people with liberos. A defensive specialist, otherwise known as a DS, was just a warm body for most teams. The really good ones (I knew a few legit DS’s) were the ancestors of the libero, they are your grandmothers. They paved the way for you. By the time I got to college, there were some really great DS players but they were few and far between. Remember back in my day most of us were playing all the way around, so unless you needed a sub for your middle there was no real need for a DS and putting scholarship money toward someone who just played back row was not the standard.

8. Eight, I forget what 8 was for – I miss my Violent Femmes cassette tape, my Sony walkman and the people I spent my whole life with at tournaments. Thank goodness not much has changed for the sport there, except maybe the music.

Eight wonderful reasons I played the sport. Eight wonderful ways the game and life as a volleyball player has changed. Tell me, what are your favorite things about playing volleyball? What will others miss as the game continues to evolve?

The Trouble With Creatives

It just looks like a big haul of hay until I get my hands on it.

The trouble with creatives is just that. We create.

Whether we draw it, plan it, write it, capture it, spray paint it, speak it or design it, there is a unique way we communicate ourselves to the world through some medium.

Creatives are able to take the ordinary and turn it into an emotion. An experience. A memory.

Something tangible.

We connect people to their worlds through our ability to communicate the unspoken.

Like a heartbeat or the steady ripple in a pond, we tap into feelings and emotions most people are unaware of. The subconscious.

We speak. We draw. We plan. We design. We write. We dance. We sing. We play.

We communicate what they want to say, feel, touch, see or experience. We do it for them out of a necessity within. We offer our gift sometimes only to the wind. Thoughts tumble around in our minds until we give them life and expression. Notebooks and sketchbooks are filled with ideas.

But here’s the trouble – we don’t always experience the ordinary as extraordinary. We don’t always experience something the way we write it or draw it or speak or paint it.

It is only when we’ve soaked in the life or the workout or the conversation that our minds begin to do what they do.

They spin gold out of hay.

We summon the little dancing man in exchange for a seat at the spindle so we can create that precious and valuable thread. And there’s no need to guess his name, for we’ve always known it. Rumplestiltskin. Lee. Wordsworth. Keats. Yeates. Wilde. Austen. Bronte. Poe. Tan. King. Andrews.

Tallman.

It may seem like a small offering but no matter the amount…

Gold is gold and it is more valuable and precious than hay.

No, YOU Hang Up

My friends know how much I fancy a selfie. They also can't take me anywhere... — My friends know how much I fancy a dorky selfie. They also can’t take me anywhere.

Texting and cell phones have ruined phone conversations.

I remember back in the stone ages, before cell phones, I used to love talking on the phone. I was one of the rare ones who did.

Find me an old rotary dial phone and I will still hold down the line for at least a half hour.

Yeah, maybe I’d get interrupted by call waiting, but after I clicked back over the conversation would pick up right back where we left off.

When it came time to hang up because of homework or parents lingering in the doorway, we’d say our goodbyes and then wait for one person to hang up. Sometimes they would wait for you to hang up first, but you really wanted to hang up first so you’d say “you hang up first.”

Then a small battle would ensue “no, you hang up”

“No, YOU hang up.”

That may go back and forth and then someone would say “okay, on the count of three, we both hang up.”

And then we’d count to three and still no one would hang up.

Stalling was a reminder of how much you enjoyed talking to that person and you didn’t want the conversation to end.

I adore that my friends are my biggest fans and vice versa.

They really and truly are.

They support my writing. But even if I didn’t type or write one single word, they would still be my friends. They support what I do, but they also support who I am.

It’s a two way street. I support them in their endeavors too. I actually would love to see them succeed more than I would like to see myself succeed – not in a sick way, but in a proud “you did it, that’s rad” kind of way. It makes me so happy to see one of them doing something they love and having a blast doing it. It makes me even more happy when I can see that they are completely and fully functioning in their area giftedness.

This week has been a blast writing with a community of people whom I know and some who are complete strangers. I have a new respect for those of you who have to produce content every day no matter what. I am one who likes things to marinate a bit, so finding things to write about daily was a challenge.

My brain started to hurt on Day 4.

That showed up on Day 6.

But friends and fellow writers were there to keep the fire lit and to keep the keyboard tap-tapping. Seeing them produce work inspired me to produce work.

We encouraged each other.

It’s like those early phone conversations that you don’t want to end.

“No, YOU hang up.”

“No…YOU hang up.”

But after the line finally clicks, you think “that really was a great conversation.”

Everything Counts In Large Amounts

When I'm not shipping, I'm taking my kids on mine tours with a guide named Mongo. — When I’m not shipping, I’m taking my kids on mine tours with a guide named Mongo.

Dude. Whenever I can quote a Depeche Mode song, I take the opportunity.

Depeche Mode, Morrissey, The Smiths…Nacho Libre.

That’s just how I roll.

This week I’ve been part of the Your Turn Challenge. One blog post a day, for seven days. One day left.

You know what?

I’m tired of myself.

I took on the challenge to see if I could do it. I should have known. Of course I can do it. I am a certified doer. I do things. Always have. But people like me have to be careful with doing. People like me will get caught up in the doing and not do something else. Sounds counter intuitive, but if I begin doing something else, the thing I was previously doing takes a back seat. It’s called ADD with a side of OCD and of course a serving of bacon.

Bacon on everything.

And truly, I wouldn’t change a thing. It makes me super productive in the one thing I am focused on. This week, it’s been shipping (from what I gather, that just means producing work and getting it to your customer every day – I’m probably wrong but it’s Day 6 of this challenge and quite frankly, Scarlett, I don’t give a rip anymore).

But last weekend, I also wrote two articles for other sites that shipped this week too – The Mod Squat and Borrowing Strength. (Both CrossFit related, go read them).

I am also editing a devotional book, researching for a project I rabbit-holed myself into all because I hurt my back six months ago and decided I wasn’t going to stop moving, AND being a mother, wife, friend, CrossFitter, launching a business and trying to consume adequate levels of bacon.

So, what does this all mean, Basil? (I also quote Austin Power’s movie lines).

It means that all of this counts as shipping (to me, at least).

Regardless of whether I continue to write and ship every day for the rest of all the days of our lives (soap opera quotes), just getting my family taken care of and maintaining friendships (and also stalking friends at bookstores) and maintaining health AND mid-line stability when I sit (article coming soon) – I’VE ALREADY SHIPPED.

This challenge is fun and I’m digging the community and reading other works (and I know it’s not over yet, cue Smith song “I Know It’s Over”),

but dude…

I just shipped my pants off. (Kmart commercial).

#winning

Originally posted August 14, 2013 by The Triune. Photo Credit: Susan Sigmon

“I firmly believe that any man’s finest hour, the greatest fulfillment of all that he holds dear, is the moment when he has worked his heart out in a good cause and lies exhausted on the field of battle – victorious” –Vince Lombardi

See the look on that face? We all know that look. That is the look of a battle won. A fight ending victoriously. A struggle that did not yield to adversity, challenges or obstacles but instead worked harder, overcame and defeated the odds. That is the face of a champion. We’ve seen it over and over again in sport. The Michael Phelps face in Beijing at the 2008 Olympics. The faces of the U.S. Men’s Hockey team after defeating the Soviet Union in the 1980 Olympic Games coining the term “miracle on ice.” Remember the Misty May-Treanor/Kerri Walsh three-peat in London? Two athletes who had conquered great challenges, injuries, team dynamics and tromped over that sand court on a mission for gold.

And another three-peat at the 2014 Reebok CrossFit Games when Rich Froning was once again declared the Fittest Man on Earth three years in a row.

Amazed? Yes. Surprised? No.

“A winner is someone who recognizes his God-given talents, works his tail off to develop them into skills, and uses these skills to accomplish his goals.” –Larry Bird

Elite athlete or not, there is no denying it – at some point we all want to win. Winning moments in sports are not just inspirational blips in our conscience that get tucked away over a commercial break. They are the moments that motivate us. They live within us. We stand to our feet, raise our arms and cheer along with our heroes as they triumph. Winning is contagious. And why?

Because there is victory in all of us.

Truth is we are all created with unique and capable talents.All of us.

Did you miss that? All of us.

The catch is to work your tail off and develop those talents into skills and use them to accomplish your goals (thank you Mr. Bird for articulating that so well). No one ever got any better at anything by sitting on the sidelines. We need to practice what we want to become good at it and we need to sharpen what we already have. How cool is it that we come pre-packaged with talent and in order to develop it into the ingredients to fulfill the mission and purpose we have in our lifetime, we just need to access it and develop it? So, you aren’t Michael Phelps, Rich Froning or a beach volleyball goddess (so close, right?). What are you?

What talent or ability is in you that is just waiting to be given permission to shine?

Find it. Develop it. Live it.

“It’s not whether you get knocked down, it’s whether you get up.” – Vince Lombardi

If winning was everything then there would be no need for second place. Or third place. Or those weird participation ribbons you can get at the dollar store. Everyone would be a winner. But the very nature of winning is that there is a second place, there is always someone (and a lot of other someone’s) who has been defeated. Someone who came up short. Someone who will need to dust themselves off, dedicate themselves to bettering the areas where they fell short and learn from their loss. It is usually after a period of loss when we find out what we are made of.

Defeat has a way of bringing our weaknesses to light.

And if we allow it, defeat can change us and propel us to push the limits of where we previously thought we had maxed out. But you have to get back up. You have to decide that today is your day to find victory. Because it is out there. Your victory is out there.

(Photo Featured: Austin Junior Volleyball Club, 17’s Cedar Park is pictured winning the National Championship title at Junior Olympics July, 2013. Photo Credit: Susan Sigmon)

Happen Stanza

Next to my wrinkly (ahem, wedding) dress.

Everyone says this time will go fast

Try slowing it down

So that minutes will last…

Longer.

It’s not making magic

It’s moments to share

Because magic don’t stick

Just takes to the air.

You only live once, or #yolo they say

But #hashtags and #selfies all fade away.

It’s in between moments

Where goodness is made…

Better.

Seven and four

Forty and more

Blinking just happens

Can’t stop anymore.

Snowballs roll down

gathering speed

tear drops do to

straight down the cheek.

Cheers to your moments

the ones in between.

Live them and share them

and do like you mean…

It.

Dear Young Volley

photo (14)

Dear Young Volley,

First of all, thank you. It was courageous of you to write this note. I am not sure you ever thought I would see it, but your mom put it on Insta so you can thank her for embarrassing you. More on embarrassing parents in a minute. But first, I want to encourage you to continue your goal of encouraging young athletes some day in the future. That day will certainly be here before you know it and then you will be getting letters from other hopefuls just like I did this week (from you). Second, you asked me for some tips. I usually don’t give advice because if I have learned anything over the years it is that I don’t know anything – and also other people don’t necessarily know what is best for me. But, I do like to talk and I do like to write, so here are a few I came up with.

Enjoy!

1. Heroes Make Us Dream – I had several volleyball heroes when I was your age and younger. Most of them were from the University of Texas Women’s volleyball team. I remember going to games as a little girl and just thinking that they were so amazing. They were strong, confident, super tall, competitive and when they played the entire gym would stand to their feet and cheer in such a roar that it made me want to do exactly what they were doing someday. I remember being at a game and hearing one of them was an All-American player and I thought to myself “whatever that is, I want to be that.” My love for the sport was born in gyms just like that. I also looked up to so many Team USA players like Flo Hyman, Eric Sato, Karch Kiraly, Bev and Kim Oden, Caren Kemner, Liz Masakayan…Paula Weishoff, Rita Crockett, Debbie Green – I can go on forever. But I won’t.

To you, I say this: Pick good heroes.

2. Disappointment Comes With Dreaming – It’s true. It’s not my favorite thing in the world, but disappointment happens. Do not let it keep you from experiencing what you have right now. Be proud of what you can do and what you are doing today. One of the biggest disappointments that I had as a volleyball player was not making an Olympic team. I don’t talk about it much, but it was heartbreaking. I did two tours with the U.S. National Team and represented the U.S.A. in many different countries. Singing the national anthem with my hand over my chest while wearing red, white and blue will always be something I am proud to have done. Not meeting that last volleyball goal stung for quite some time. So much so that I started to think that what I had done and what I had accomplished didn’t mean anything. I stopped talking about volleyball and I removed myself from the community I had been a part of for so long. Until a very wise woman told me that I shouldn’t be doing that. Lisa Love recruited me when she was at The University of Texas at Arlington in the early 90’s. Years later when she was the Athletic Director at Arizona State, she told me in so many words “Don’t you ever minimize what you did at Georgia. For that sport and for that University. What you did, you should be proud of. Don’t forget that.” That shook me to my bones and although I didn’t start coming around for a few years, those words meant everything.

To you, I say this: Don’t ever minimize what you are doing today, right now. You should be proud of what you are doing. Don’t ever forget that.

3. Today Translates Into Tomorrow, Do Good Things – Speaking of what you are doing right now, know one thing: it will translate into what you do tomorrow. If you slack off today you are practicing how to slack off tomorrow. Whatever you practice becomes habit. Sure, you can change things but change takes a little time – sometimes it takes a lot of time. If you practice today what you want for tomorrow you will be that much wiser. I mean this for volleyball, but I also mean this for life. I’ve made lots of mistakes and have had to change things big time, but I am always thinking about how my actions will play out down the road. Even when I am working for free or for a job that many might think is beneath them, I am doing my best. Remind me to tell you the story about how I sold thirteen $100 throw blankets at Pottery Barn one day.

To you, I say this: Sow good seeds and you will reap season after season of harvest.

4. Get Used to Embarrassing Parents – You have them. I had them. It’s kind of a rite of passage. I remember being like “why do my parents have to come to all my tournaments and all my games!?” I mean they came to all the games (except my freshman year and my dad confided in me that he didn’t come because we weren’t very good – insert laughing.until.crying emoji here). But, once we got good, they were there…and they were not quiet. They were loud. They might have been the loudest. One time my dad even got kicked out of the gym during a game because he carried a small megaphone into the gym. They told him he was not allowed to bring anything like that into they gym to amplify his voice. But because my dad is embarrassing (and quite clever), he went to the concession stand, ordered a large coca-cola, drank the entire thing in minutes flat, bottomed out the cup and began using that cup as a megaphone. He couldn’t get kicked out because it was something they sold at the games. To this day, my parents are my biggest supporters. In fact, my dad is convinced that I won the CrossFit Games last year after he saw me survive workout 14.5 (21-18-15-12-9-6-3 thrusters/barbell burpees) and my mom was screaming at me during the workout saying “you can do it! One more rep. Pick up the bar! Leave it all on the floor!!”

To you, I say this: Your parents are your biggest fans – forever, so get used to it.

5. Whatever You Have Enough of, Give It Away – Be it money, time, influence, knowledge, joy, empathy, strength, confidence, understanding – give it away and don’t expect anything in return. One of the greatest gifts I have is to give away that which is not mine in the first place. I worked hard and I earned a lot of awards during my career, but none of it was just mine. It took lots of people to make that happen. My parents, my friends, my teammates, my coaches (the good ones and the not so good ones), the people willing to take a chance on me, my trainers, my teachers, my academic and athletic counselors, my siblings who played pepper with me in the back yard. Those people gave away their time, influence, money, strength, understanding, knowledge and joy expecting nothing in return.

To you, I say this: Work hard and someday you will return the favor.

Thank you, young volley for making me think about the things that really mattered to me while I was playing. You allowed me the opportunity to put words to a topic that I hadn’t really thought about in years. I used to get letters like this when I was at Georgia and I just didn’t know how to respond to them, see today I got to do that. Thank you!

Priscilla Tallman

You Already Are

Humble little guy, isn't he? And yet, he possesses the beauty of a thousand colors inside. — Humble little guy, isn’t he? And yet, he possesses the beauty of a thousand colors inside.

You have everything you need.

Your strength, your weakness.

You have your rhythm, the one you hear with every beat of your heart.

Thump.

You have your passion, your vices, your doubts.

You have the sound of stillness, the sound your hear with every breath.

Exhale.

When you look too far outside what you already know, you start to believe the voices and the naysayers and the haters.

There they are. Louder than bombs.

But God put something in you. His voice. His truth. His plan. His reality.

You already have everything you need.

And just like the humble simplicity of a spotted green caterpillar working tirelessly bite after small bite to become what God designed it to become, you too are becoming.

You already are.

Paper Hearts

I don’t have a pinterest.

I didn’t iron my tablecloths.

The roses I got from Sprouts are kind of ratchet. Yeah, ratchet roses…

I didn’t buy napkin rings, I made them.

Name cards are cut paper bags with names written on them.

Because that’s how I roll.

Speaking of rolls, I ate two bags of King’s Hawaiian Rolls since Monday, so we are out of rolls.

But a little magic happened today when I was putting together the kids table. I went to their craft bin and grabbed out a little heart-shaped hole punch. I started punching little heart-shaped holes in a big paper bag. Hole punching is rather soothing, but heart-shaped hole punching is healing.

I just kept punching little paper hearts until the receptacle was full.

Full of little brown paper sack heart-shapes.

Then I began sprinkling those little hearts all around the table. Because I like to sprinkle things and because I think confetti in the shape of brown paper bag hearts is just the cutest.

It’s funny how this kind of stuff works. Sprinkling paper hearts on my table reminded me that life doesn’t have to be fancy. It doesn’t have to be bought. It doesn’t have to look like someone else’s table or someone else’s life or someone else’s body or someone else’s family (I still do this and I don’t know why).

We have what we have. We are who we are and we are exactly where we need to be.

If you don’t like what that is, be patient.

Allow yourself to open up those spaces that have been closed for so long and invite those little paper hearts in. Allow the little paper hearts to remind you that we don’t have to be all grown up and important all the time.

We can remind ourselves that a paper bag might just be the best way to see the simplicity in life and the simplicity in love.

Thanksgiving isn’t about food or tables, it’s about gratitude. If we start there, we find our way into contentment, peace, happiness and we open up a place to serve others.

When today is over, I will have yelled more than I would have like to. I will have worried more than I should and I will most likely wish I had done one or two things differently.

But I know myself and so when everyone is back in their houses and my kids are asleep and I am sweeping up the last of the paper hearts, I will probably pause and hold that little paper heart in my hand and remember to keep it simple.

Happy Thanksgiving from my little paper heart to yours.