The Starting Line Is Not the Finish Line

Let me set the scene. Four years ago I was in Orlando with my family and we decided to go to The Wizarding World of Harry Potter. I had never been, and I’m a fan, so was pretty stoked to be there. So stoked, in fact, that I suggested we ride Harry Potter and the Forbidden Journey (without knowing what it really was). Now, if you don’t know me very well, you may not know two important facts that kick in later: I am terrified of roller coasters, and I get motion sickness. If you’ve been on the ride, you probably know where this is going.

Unfortunately, I thought the ride was more of a “stroll through the world of Harry Potter,” when in fact it was more of a “fly through the world of Harry Potter.” It’s not listed as a roller coaster (hence my confusion), but it is listed as a scenic dark ride, so in hindsight, that’s my bad. My dad also gets motion sickness, so as we pass the probably 40 signs warning those with motion sickness to not get on the ride, I assure him it’s not a real ride. Real rides aren’t inside. Real rides don’t let you take in the views. This couldn’t possibly be a real ride. We’ll be fine.

The first red flag I noticed (since I ignored the incredibly blatant warning signs literally posted around me) was the fact that this ride had a safety bar that came down over you like a real roller coaster. That’s odd… Must just be a safety precaution.

The second red flag I noticed is that you had to run and get on the ride before it took off without you. It was like a ski lift, and if you’ve ever had to use a ski lift, you know that it is very time sensitive and quite frankly, terrifying. The four of us run to get in the seats after the earlier occupants of said seats had gotten out, the safety bar comes over our head, and the final red flag is now staring me in the face.

As I look over to the riders in the seat grouping next to us, they suddenly FLY UP IN THE AIR AND DISAPPEAR. I turn to my dad next to me and the last words out of my mouth are “I’m so sorry.” The next thing I know we are blasted off into a never-ending void of darkness, where I start repeating the mantra “Just don’t puke.” We’re flying across the Quidditch field, coming face to face with spiders, jolting up and down and forwards and backwards, and even though deep inside I know we’re probably hardly moving at all, my entire body is paralyzed. I do not say this lightly. I don’t mean that I’m shaking I’m so scared. I mean I have lost motor function in all of my limbs.

The ride is slowly ending and I’m hearing shouts to be prepared to get off quickly so the next riders can take our seats. The safety bar comes up, but because I had been gripping it when my body became paralyzed, I now look like I have lobster claws for hands. My hands have, quite literally, frozen in place like an Italian man gesturing after eating a delicious meatball. My dad runs off to the nearest trashcan to hurl, with my stepmom trailing behind him laughing. My boyfriend gets off and starts walking in their direction (yes, without checking on me, so I’m happy to report we are not together anymore).

I, however, am still sitting on the ride, and am about five seconds from being SUCKED BACK UP INTO ANOTHER ROUND. All I can get out is a faint whispered “help me.” The poor man operating the ride runs to me and has to pick me up out of the seat and then place me on the ground nearby. I am completely pale, with lobster hands, shaking, nearly in the fetal position, at the foot of this ride. I can see into the crowd of people who are anxiously waiting to get on, what is probably to everyone else a super fun experience, looking at me in horror. Parents are reassuring their small children. Older children are looking at me with sympathy.

I have become the crazy lady at The Wizarding World of Harry Potter all because I was too afraid to get off the ride. I was so afraid to get off, that I was about to have to ride it again! I have felt that same fear creep into my life since that moment four years ago. The fear of action amidst the sweet, calming embrace of complacency. I kept riding the same ride because getting off seemed impossible. What if I fail? What if I don’t achieve everything I have dreamed for myself? I stayed on the path I was used to, but desperately wanted to change, because action is so much scarier. Will I be judged? Is now a good time?

If you’ve ever felt that fear of getting started with something new, I’m here to tell you that fear is the only thing stopping you.

There will never be a good time to start anything.

There will always be something that could interfere with your journey.

Several months ago I tried getting back into Weight Watchers (a program where you track your food and have a certain amount of points you can eat each day), but I kept telling myself I would start on a Monday. That seems like a good day to start something new. Yeah, I’d enjoy my weekend and start fresh on Monday. But then Monday rolls around and it’s Monday. And the fact that I made it through the day is enough to treat myself. Then Tuesday is here and it’s Tuesday so doesn’t feel like the fresh start I had imagined, since it’s not the first day of the week, and also #tacos. Can you guess what’s next? HUMP DAY! There is never a good day to start something difficult, because it’s difficult. You can look back at this moment six months from now and have one of two things happen: You can be thankful you started today, or you can wish you had started today.

What are your goals? What are your dreams? What are you passionate about pursuing?

Pick up that book and read a chapter. Or get online and order that ish right now.

Set your alarm for an hour earlier tomorrow and get your workout gear ready. Are we doing yoga? Meditation? Spin class? Weight training?

Pick a recipe from your Pinterest board you have been dying to try and go buy those ingredients.

You don’t have to start and immediately cross the finish line; you just have to start. Notice that I didn’t say read the whole book? Get a six pack? Eat a meal you’ve cooked? The finish line isn’t the next step; the next step is the next step. And there are steps after that. And one day you’ll look back and think “Wow! I took so many steps to get here. But I’m here.”

One tiny step. One chapter. One workout. One recipe. One day at a time.

So be bold and get off the ride, babe, and find your tribe who will carry you off if necessary.

xoxo

Bold Babe