News from Jules | 12.28.2020 | This is the Next Level

one lesson about integrity every week

Yes, we are on the cusp of a new year—2021—yet none of our crises will disappear when the clock strikes 12:01 a.m. on New Year’s Day. And none of them are actually related to 2020 either, but confining uncontrollable events to a timeframe is an easier way to manage stress and history. Or so it seems. 

Just like denial seems easier. And ignoring seems easier. 

Until it’s not. 

Until we’re in a precarious position: deep in a crisis without even knowing it.  

The defining moment of this year for me was one of the most subtle wake-up calls I’ve experienced. 

I walked outside after my lunch and sat down on the cement porch dangling my bare feet off the edge. It was cold, uncomfortable, but it kept me alert. I took in the eery stillness of the neighborhood. As if it was just another weekday. 

It was unusually quiet outside. No cars racing toward the busy intersection a block and a half down the street. No walkers briskly passing by deep in conversation. No wind through the still bare trees. Spring had barely sprung and everyone barely knew what had just begun. During those first few weeks of Shelter-in-Place, people were at home waiting. Waiting for it to pass, as if it were just a storm.

A brief “unprecedented” interruption of what we thought was normal life. Instead of an inevitable crisis at worst, a disruptive catalyst at best. 

As I sat there, my questions and thoughts began to organize themselves in the quiet nothingness, just like when I hike in the forest or walk along the beach. After a weekend of internet research, I digested the information I had gathered from the news and attempted to make sense of it. 

Only a few weeks into the pandemic and it was clear: The world was in a crisis. Surprisingly, we had been for months. Meanwhile, we went about our lives business-as-usual. 

  • The virus was actually reported in December. 
  • I went on a retreat at a house with 25 women during the last weekend of February. Oregon’s first COVID-19 case was reported on February 28.
  • Oregon’s State of Emergency was declared on March 8. I went to work with thousands of people until March 13.
  • The economists said a recession was unlikely and not to worry until “people stopped getting haircuts.” Well, the barbershops had already closed. 

Yet, as I looked around the neighborhood, everything looked the same as before. The grass continued growing, the clouds coasted overhead, a bird chirped from afar—the world seemed okay. But, I knew it wasn’t. I knew the threat was real, I just couldn’t see it. I couldn’t feel it—no cortisol, no fear. 

This is when the epiphany hit: How was this invisible viral threat any different than the climate crisis we have been complacently living amidst my entire life, an entire century?

It wasn’t.

Insert systemic racism, wealth inequality, the current presidency. The world seemed okay. But it wasn’t. 

The evidence was clear. Even if I didn’t personally see it, feel it, in my world.  

Did I have the courage to pay attention and act accordingly?

I lost my naivete that day. But, I didn’t lose my faith. 

If anything, this epiphany helped orient me for the rest of the year. I stayed grounded in reality, in responsibility, in service, in sacrifice. I was activated by the truth beyond what I could see and beyond what directly touched my life. To trust what is unseen, but known. To put the greater good first. To contribute, not to extract.

We can transcend this idea of a static normal and live in harmony with dynamic nature. I know we can. 

This is the next level. Ironically, growing my personal threshold for vulnerability over the last few years allowed me to feel compassion for everyone else. 

This constant, collective vulnerability—not just some of us, all of us—is the opening. 

To more experience, deeper wisdom and better judgment.

To change spurred by truth. 

To adaptability. 

To being humble.

To being human. 

May you carry the truth forward this week. 

Love,
Jules


I share a lesson learned about integrity every Monday. Sign up for delivery right to your inbox. Want more? There’s lots more lessons learned here on my blog, so have fun exploring and commenting about your own insights! 

News from Jules | 08.13.2018 | Where There’s a Will…

one lesson about integrity every week

A week ago, I ran in the 216-mile Cascade Lake Relay race on a team of 12 runners.

I think this was my 15th race and 8th relay race. I knew what I was getting into. So, I thought.

I knew this race was harder than most I’d done before:

  • higher elevation,
  • longer legs,
  • hotter temperatures
  • and compromised air quality due to wildfire season.

I was excited for the challenge and to cross it off my bucket list.

Once I signed up, I set up a training schedule and determined my goal: to complete the race.

And then I got injured.

Except I didn’t have months of lead time like I did for the Seattle half-marathon that I recently wrote about in my blog.

I only had eight weeks until race day to heal and be ready.

Was I being stubborn? Was I too determined? Was I stuck on a goal?

One of my friends has joked about me: “Where there’s a Will-iams, there’s a way!”

I refined my training schedule with my Physical Therapy team and focused harder on my goal: to complete the race.

But, completing the race did not mean at any cost. Success looked like running easefully, causing no harm or new injury, and recovering quickly.

When I ran the Seattle Marathon in 2008, I was nervous as hell to do it and hell bent on finishing it. I did. It was hard and it hurt a lot.

Read the story about this race in my latest blog post: When 2,364th Place is Winning.

I have learned so much since then.

This time, I increased my pace time to 12-minutes-per-mile so that I could run intervals: 4 minutes running, 1 minute walking.

A week before the race, my physical therapist gave the thumbs up on my knee.

But, it wasn’t until the day before that I knew I could successfully complete the race: temps were down, winds shifted the smoke and I knew my body could safely do it.

During my second of three legs around 4 a.m. that Saturday I was running 5.6 miles through a forested, back country road in La Pine, Oregon.

It was a brisk 35 degrees out as I inhaled the fresh pines and spotted constellations in the vast night sky as one after another runners passed by.

“Good job, keep it up,” they said.

“Thanks! Did you see that shooting star?,” I excitedly asked one who was racing by.

No response.

Well, I did.

I was following my friend’s advice from that first half-marathon: “Have fun and enjoy the moment.”

This was my favorite leg that I’ve ever run.

Besides taking in the scenery for those 67 minutes, I kept my body and mind solely focused on the task at hand: I breathed deeply and simply kicked one foot after another.

My focus was having energy to spare all the way through to my finish line.

A few stray thoughts did cross my otherwise clear-as-the-night-sky mind:

  • Since 2008, I have learned how to be more satisfied making decisions and moving on than making the perfect decision. And I am happier.
  • I am finally learning how to pace my energy and find balance, instead of doing “all or nothing.” This is being a completer.
  • ​​I have come a long way—in every way. This feels like winning.

Where there’s a will, indeed.

May you find ease this week in honoring your heart’s needs and commitments.

Love,
Jules


I share a lesson learned about integrity every Monday. Sign up for delivery right to your inbox. Want more? There’s lots more lessons learned here on my blog, so have fun exploring and commenting about your own insights! 

News from Jules | 08.06.2018 | Are You Ready for Adventure?

one lesson about integrity every week

How is this going to work?

Is it going to work?

What have I gotten myself into?

The adventure has begun as soon as these questions start coming to mind.

Less cold feet or nerves, this is curiosity kicking in. Wondering what lies ahead on the known but uncertain path.

If it were more certain it’d be boring and less known it’d be scary.

This is adventure.

I happen to like adventure. Okay, love, adventure.

Not exploring the Amazon by myself kinds of adventure, but the running-a-216-mile-relay-race- on-a-team-of-10-strangers-and- 1-friend-kind like I did last weekend.

Or running a half-marathon.

After I signed up for my first half marathon in 2008, the next thing I did was go to the library and get some running books.

If I was going to do this, I was going to do it right.

The beginner’s marathon training books had some pearls of wisdom about running, and about life. Once you’ve set a training schedule, then determine your goal:

Are you going to be a  competer or a completer?

competer is someone who trains for a certain pace or overall time and then seeks to beat. Perhaps seeking a personal record. This is what we think of as “winning.”

completer is someone who seeks to reach the finish line through running, walking, hell or high water.

The most important step: setting your race goal and being satisfied with it.

This is harder than it sounds.

There are two kinds of decision-makers according to an article I read in Real Simple magazine in 2008:

  • Satisfiers just want to make a decision and move on.
  • Maximizers just want to make the absolute best decision possible. This feels like winning.

Unsurprisingly, the article concluded that generally “satisfiers” are happier people through their ease of decision making.

Whereas the “maximizers” may have the occasional euphoric decision-making successes, they are generally stressed out all the time due to an acute case of perfection.

For my first half-marathon adventure back in 2008, I settled on being a completer—to train and make it across the finish line.

Read the story about this adventure in my latest blog post: When 2,364th Place is Winning.

What I’ve learned since then is that it’s actually really difficult to be a “completer” when you have a “maximizer” mindset.

It takes truly being satisfied with making the decision, any decision, and moving on with it, in order to truly complete things, come what may.

Otherwise, you’re still competing with yourself. And unless you’ve made that perfect decision and achieved the perfect outcome, you’re not actually satisfied.

Not that competing is bad. It can be very motivating. It’s just not necessary for winning. 

And definitely not necessary for adventure.

What have you gotten yourself into lately? Are you ready for adventure?

Everything about that half-marathon had taken me outside my comfort zone and into my courage zone.

This is what I love about adventure: it’s fun and we learn a lot.

When we’re in our courage zone, life is an adventure.

May this week bring you to the edge of your courage zone.

Love,
Jules


I share a lesson learned about integrity every Monday. Sign up for delivery right to your inbox. Want more? There’s lots more lessons learned here on my blog, so have fun exploring and commenting about your own insights!