Stories from Kristina + Breanne

  Shared by Kristina Smedley “I used to be an athlete…” I feel light years away from being an athlete today. And the scary part for me is that not only does my body feel like it’s been on the sidelines for months (it had a more important baby growing things to do), my mind is out of the game too. And overcoming the mental challenges and excuses is way more difficult for me than overcoming the physical ones. GRIT starts on Saturday. It’s an All-In or All Out physical transformation challenge. And if there’s any chance that I end up being “out,” I already know it will be because my mind wasn’t in the game. It gave in to the excuses. -> I’m too tired. -> I don’t have time today to do the full workout. -> I’m in such bad shape; there’s no way I can do that movement. -> This is embarrassing; I used to be an athlete! And I know for certain that… “It’s raining; I don’t want to go outside” and “I really don’t want to take a shower and have wet hair” … will go through my mind! No ki

Shared by Breanne Smedley Growing up, like many girls, I lived with comments about my body from a very young age. I was tall. I was really skinny. You could say I stood out. And people weren’t afraid to tell me about it. Well-intentioned people, for sure. People that always backed up their comments with “I wish I was…like you.” Or “I wish I had…like you.” Or “You’ll be happy with that metabolism when you’re older.” But comments about my skinny, long legs. Gangly arms. And guesses about my body fat percentage. Even though most were making comments out of admiration. The comments still drew attention to parts of my body that I never thought might be abnormal as a 5th grader. They made me question…was I different than other people? Made me stare at myself in the mirror and wonder what I could wear to make my legs look bigger. Made me set a goal to eat 4,000 calories a day for a short time in middle school. Hoping that the Marie Calendar’s frozen chicken pot pies and milkshakes would do ju

  Shared by Breanne Smedley Last week, I posted a photo with my shirt off for the whole internet to see. Ok, that sounds bad. I had a sports bra on, it wasn’t that scandalous. Still, I’m not sure that grandma would approve. That’s not the point, though. I wasn’t trying to gain attention by any means. The photos were of the transformation that I experienced through GRIT over the 60 days. Transformation that could only be seen slightly in my body. However, there was a whole story of what couldn’t be seen in the photos. The point was, I was really outside of my comfort zone. Sharing about my body, and insecurities I’ve held for most of my adolescent and adult life. It was vulnerable. How would people respond? What would my friends say? Would they be supportive? Would they secretly talk about me behind my back? Think I am just trying to get attention? As you can see, my Inner Critic was running rampant. Like an unsupervised 2 year old crashing around and making a mess in my head. Because h

  Shared by Breanne Smedley Christmas Eve was my favorite time of the holiday season as a kid. The anticipation of what was to come the next morning would be enough to make my sister and I giddy with excitement. We had been good all year (ha…), I wonder what Santa is going to bring? For a few years, we would sleep in the same room on Christmas Eve. On the floor, in our sleeping bags next to each other. Because we were too excited to go to sleep alone. Christmas morning would never disappoint. Going downstairs and seeing the plump stockings by the fireplace. Then rushing into our parent’s bedroom to pour the stockings out on their bed and show them what Santa had brought us. All before 7am. I’m sure my parents were exhausted! Making all the Christmas magic happen. It was around 8 or 9 that I started to catch on that Santa might not be real. It was less a traumatic reveal and more like putting a puzzle together. Some kids on the bus were talking about how there was actually no Santa. Rea

  Shared by Breanne Smedley For as long as we’ve been together, Brett and I have celebrated Christmas morning away from home. My parents. His parents. Once, in Hawaii. So this year, we were actually surprised when we realized that we had no “plans” for Christmas Eve or Christmas morning. We have plans to celebrate Christmas with all sides of the family, but that doesn’t start until tomorrow. “What should we do?” “What should we eat?” We had an opportunity in front of us. To create new traditions. “What memories do we want Charlee to grow up with?” Woah, all of a sudden I felt a ton of pressure. I want to create magical memories. Traditions that Charlee will grow up wanting to recreate with her family. Then, the perfectionist bug started to creep in. We need to bake all the cookies! We need matching pajamas! We need a Christmas Eve feast! We need Christmas morning brunch! It can all feel really overwhelming. Past experiences tell me that as soon as I start placing expectations on things

  Shared by Breanne Smedley The day was September 20th, 2019. I was right in the middle of the busiest season of the year for me. Coaching volleyball, while my husband simultaneously coached football. Both teaching full-time. And trying to care for our 18-month old daughter. To say life was hectic was an understatement. It wasn’t uncommon for our day to start at 4:30am, and not hit the pillow until 10-11pm, depending on where the game or match was that night. It was during this season that I had allowed myself to break promises. To compromise on what was most important to me. To live in contrary to what I believed about a healthy body and mind. You see, I was quick to tell other people that there is no excuse not to exercise. I’ve ingrained it into my student’s heads. “No time is the lousiest excuse anyone could have to not work out!” I could have been quoted to say. Except for when it came to me. Apparently, I was the exception to that rule. Yes, it was a fact that I did not have time

  Shared by Breanne Smedley I remember looking at the blue lines on the pregnancy test that July morning. Brett and I were just about to leave for a 3-week long trip, and I had a suspicion. “I’ll just take the test to rule it out.” I thought. We were living in our one-bedroom apartment near downtown Vancouver at the time. We had just moved back to the area, to pursue career goals and be closer to family. That morning in July, Brett was gone working out and I was by myself getting packed and ready to go. I ran to the store to pick up the test, read the directions really fast, did what I needed to do, and let it sit for 5 minutes as I finished packing. When I went back to check on it, I couldn’t believe what I saw. A faint plus sign. Plus equals …pregnant?! I remember saying out loud, “What?! NO!” I took another test. Same result. All I remember thinking, over and over was: “I’m not ready for this.” I’m not ready for my life to change completely. I’m not ready to be responsible for a tin

  Shared by Kristina Smedley “Bah-humbug…” At first, this didn’t seem like a very merry Christmas. This is one of the few Christmases that we didn’t spend with our larger family. I felt a little sad to know we wouldn’t see them today. Plus, Kaden has been super fussy lately. So, we haven’t been sleeping well. Which means, things are a mess. Stuff is left undone. And I’m tired, literally and also tired of thinking and wishing I could do whatever I want for just one day. So, an un-merry Christmas… that’s how I felt yesterday morning. Bah-humbug to Christmas Eve. I don’t know if the coffee kicked in, I woke up a little, or what… But the magic of Christmas sorta kicked in. This is our first Christmas with our sweet boy (and Lexi). As a family, not just a couple. This is our chance to start family traditions. To experience the joy and wonder of the season through our little guy’s eyes. And to watch him form his own memories. Maybe he’ll be up hours before the rest of us waiting “on the edge

  Shared by Breanne Smedley I’m going to share what might be an unpopular opinion, especially for a teacher. Most college degrees are a waste of money. That paper, that title, that took 4-5 years and $50-100K to get? Most don’t even use it. Don’t get me wrong, I loved my college experience. I grew up a lot from being forced away from my family. I learned about myself as a person through my freedom to choose my path. And as a teacher, I cannot obtain a job without a college degree (multiple, actually). But it wasn’t until I was “on the job” that my learning really took off. Not during the two years of required course work BEFORE I even entered my major. You know, classes like the Art of Listening to Music and Symbolic Logic. At $12K a year. Then, when I was ready to enter my major. “Sorry, you’re going to have to wait another quarter for it to open back up.” That’ll be another $4K in random courses. I remember celebrating the end of college, and my master's program. Thinking I’ll no

  Shared by Breanne Smedley There are some weeks that seem to happen without effort. Things are clicking. The alarm goes off, and I am ready to get out of bed. I look forward to working out. I don’t feel tempted by sugar. I am checking things off my list left and right. Then there’s this week. I saw the finish line to winter break, as many teachers do. Then, I think I tripped over something (maybe the gingerbread house from last week), landed face down in a bowl of eggnog, and have been crawling to the finish line ever since. It started with a chest cold that threw a wrench in my morning routine on Monday. I couldn’t sleep, my throat was burning, and I had a nasty cough keeping me up. Slept in. No meditating. Broke my 30-day streak. No reading. No writing. Thrust into the day and headed to school attempting to teach with a sinus headache and no voice. From then on, it just got worse. I took Tuesday off, but still couldn’t sleep or focus. The work, and then the guilt started to pile on.

  Shared by Breanne Smedley I’ve spent the last 45 minutes of my morning in what can be amounted to wasted time. Bouncing from task to task. Knowing that I need to read, meditate, go through the routine. But also write, and work on building out what we have planned for our next round of our ConfidenceFactor™ challenge. Then there’s the GRIT workout I haven’t completed yet. And Charlee just woke up, not allowing me to do any of it. Frustration sets in. “How am I supposed to get anything done?” The reality sets in too. The way this morning is going so far is my fault. No one else to blame but myself. Whether we like it or not, everything we do or don’t do produces a consequence. Some good. Some not so good. But always, a cause and effect. It all started last night. The last couple nights, if I’m being honest with myself. I let my phone sneak back to my bedside to be charged. Normally, it charges 20 feet away from me in the bathroom. Meaning, I have to physically get up in the morning whe

  Shared by Breanne Smedley Like, really, really watches me. She watches me work. In the gym during the volleyball season. Connecting with players. Addressing a program. Running drills. She watches each morning as I buckle her into her car seat. And listens as I tell her to have fun with her friends at the babysitters. Then, she watches as I drive off to teach other people’s children for the day. She watches me work at home. Typing away on my laptop. Brainstorming with Kristina. Learning from colleagues on weekly zoom meetings. She watches as I close the office door for a couple hours on a Sunday. “Mommy is working, she will be out soon.” She watches me clip into the Peloton bike and cheers me on until I become breathless. And today, watches me smile as she set up the fan to blow in my direction. She watches me at CrossFit. As I struggle to push a heavy barbell above my head. Or collapse on the ground after pushing myself to my max. She watches as I make dinner and prep for the week. C