You can’t miss her. And you’ll struggle to
keep up.
The Gortex-clad marathoner charging ahead,
the striking blonde in a strapless gown cutting through the crowd at the
Barristers’ Ball, Ann Sheybani leads something of a charmed life, and she knows
it. And while she’s grateful for all she
has, she’s run a long, challenging path to get there.
Married for seven years to Walt Hampton,
an attorney, executive coach, speaker, writer, and fellow “adventurer,” Ann is
the founder of Starting Over, which offers personal coaching and programs for
women in transition. When they met, both
were single parents juggling the care and feeding of teenagers, demanding
careers, as well as a desire to be and do more.
In each other, you could say, they found on Match.com their very best
match.
They honeymooned in Ireland and fell in
love with the quiet, the pace of life, and the beauty of the landscape. They now divide their time between Canton,
CT, and a seaside home in Castletownshend in County Cork, where most of their
neighbors get around on four hooves. But
Vermont and New Hampshire are frequent, favorite playgrounds for running and
climbing getaways; two of their children reside in the Green Mountain state,
and another attends Lyndon State College.
Walt and Ann are powerful examples of
building a life you love: the essence of their coaching. Together they’ve
climbed Denali, Aconcagua, and Kilimanjaro; they sail and tango and scuba dive
as a team. Both have forged successful businesses helping others to reach their
personal “summits” and goals.
Ann, who holds a Masters in Creative Writing
and Literature from Harvard, speaks most personally and persuasively to women
seeking change. In her writing and presentations, she refers often to staying
“one step ahead” on the gravel road of life, of learning from past experiences
and from the stories of those who’ve blazed the trail ahead. Given her devotion
to daily, life-affirming running, her use of that metaphor is truly well earned.
To an outsider, you look
like a woman “on top of the world” in more ways than one. But the route you
took held plenty of obstacles. Tell us about where you were in your life
when you decided to start running, and what benefits you discovered right off.
Once upon
a time I was an aimless girl who twisted herself into a little pretzel to win
over a man. He was a decent man, with his own complexes and flaws, who led me
down the primrose path into the Islamic Republic of Iran. This did not go well.
Five years
later, and a whole lot smarter, I returned to the United States with two young
children to start life over. At the age of 34, I had to figure out who I was,
and what I wanted. I had to stop running from my self.
I was divorced,
fat, unemployed and scared because I had no idea which step I needed to take
next. I clung to my kids like a hobo to a ham sandwich because being a Mom was
the only thing in my life that give me a sense of purpose. I hung around other
divorced women who only knew how to complain. They clung to the past and
refused to move on.
Without
realizing it at the time, I began the journey back to myself with running.
What started as a weight loss gimmick—I’d packed on 20 lbs.— evolved into a spiritual transformation. Running gave
me, for the very first time, confidence, pride, space, and the ability to cope.
Running became a me thing; a time to listen to the wind, the slap
of my feet, the sound of my breath. I could hear my own voice.
After a few
years I discovered marathon running, and with that, the joy of the job well
done. I learned how to handle pain and give an improbable effort, and to do it
all alone. For
the first time in my life, I began to feel whole. I realized that one step at a time was all that was
needed. That I didn’t have to know how I would do it, I just needed to start.
And to carry on. Running was what the author George Sheehan described
as my “proving ground.”
Through running, I finally figured out what I
couldn’t when I was young: to be an adult, a whole integral person, we have to
make mistakes, get off course, endure discomfort, and doubt ourselves. We have to endure. The knowledge that
we can reach a finish line despite the setbacks is what puts the strut in our
step.
And now? What’s your
running routine? What long-term benefits have you enjoyed?
Five mornings a week, Walt
and I get up at the crack of dawn and head out the door. On weekdays we
run about six miles. On Saturdays, we run long, which is a habit we
formed when training for marathons and ultra-marathons. Marathons, by the
way, are all 26.2 miles long. Ultra marathons can range from 50 k (32
miles) to over 100 miles, depending on the race. We run early to beat the
summer heat, and to benefit from a set routine. Decide once, and you
don’t have to go through the should-I-or-shouldn’t-I game each and every morning.
Start down that path, and you’ll never go out. It’s far easier to remain in
bed.
Walt is the perfect running
partner. For miles we say nothing. We get lost in our own heads.
Sometimes we talk about the day, or hash out our problems. Sometimes we deconstruct
all of Western literature. Because we share the ritual, our bond is constantly
tightened.
And while that's a lovely
byproduct, running, for me, is about so much more: Running allows me
to be selfish. Other people’s needs--from 6AM to 7, anyway--get
tragically ignored. I get to think about what I want to think about, or I get
to blank out and just breathe. I am at no one’s beck and call.
As an anxious sort,
running allows me to expend nervous energy, to calm the hell down. Leave
it for a few days and I become a tiger pacing its cage. Without the relief
valve, and the endorphins, I’d likely self-medicate with something far less
beneficial, like half a box of Dunkin Donuts.
Oh
yes, running helps me manage my weight. It’s not carte blanche to eat
whatever I want, but it sure helps.
And probably most
importantly, running put that strut in my step all those years ago. That
confidence, something I never had when I was young, never went away after my
first marathon. I earned my red Super Power cape, and I’ve never taken it
off. This confidence has changed everything about my life.
You mentioned how your
commitment to running provided a “spiritual transformation” as well as
physical.
I used to say I was about as
spiritual as an Egg McMuffin. But I have become deeply aware of a bigger force
at work in our lives. And I feel a need for a bigger connection; that was
something I missed in my early years. I’m not sure what that looks like yet.
But I do know that I can’t control it all.
With your husband,
you’ve climbed several major peaks and run ultra-marathons. Clearly you push
one another to meet greater and greater goals. I’m curious if you are openly
competitive with one another. What happens when one of you reaches a goal the
other cannot?
Years ago, when I was looking
for a partner on Match, I put up a profile describing who I really was and what
I was looking for in a man. I thought of it as a sort of buyer beware
disclaimer. As a high-achiever, an athlete, a writer, and a dyed-in-the-wool
nut job, I was overjoyed when I met a man skewed much the same way.
At a certain point in one’s
life, it pays off in dividends to know what you need, and what motivates you to
perform. For both Walt and I, friendly competition has been a catalyst for
producing results. As juvenile as it may be, we often challenge each other with
outrageous trash talk: Which one of us will finish the race first? Who will
complete the book and publish before the other? What horrible things would
losing to the other prove?
Silly or not, you’d be
surprised how hot the flame gets under one’s backside, how much the need to put
the other in his or her place can inspire action.
And neither of us likes to
lose. Neither of us likes to feel we haven’t lived up to expectations, or
done our best. In other words, friendly competition is a double-edged sword.
There comes a point,
particularly when important projects have not gone as hoped—i.e. Walt
has finished the VT 50 while I lay in a heap, weeping, at mile 34—when it pays
to drop the taunting and offer the other solace and hope. These are the
times to sit down together and laugh at the egos involved.
The interesting thing about
one of us “winning,” the other “failing” is that you can usually see why events
shook out the way they did. One of us—namely Walt— is usually more willing than
the other—that would be me— to put in the time and energy to create the result.
Sometimes, it’s just so much easier to acknowledge this fact instead of licking
your wounds
You switched course in
your 40s: you went back to school, founded a writing workshop, and launched a
career as a personal coach, having studied with well-know motivational author
and speaker Tony Robbins. What exactly does a personal coach do?
People spend time with
me. We talk, either on the phone or in person. Sometimes we talk for just
an hour or two. Sometimes we talk for an hour every other week for a year
or more.
During this time I
listen deeply to what is said, and what is not said. I point out what they’re
not seeing (or can’t see). We talk about the things they’re struggling
with—relationships, business, parenting, the creative life—and we deep dive
into what they really want, what they’re “doing it all” for.
I help them decide what they really want by
asking powerful questions. Then I shut up long enough for them to work it
out. And I tell my clients what no one else would dare to say. It’s a delicate
balance.
Once we determine where the gap lies between
how things are and how they’d like them to be, we work together to come up with
an action plan consisting of specific, realistic steps. Because change can be
scary, I remind them why they’re doing it and hold them accountable to their
word.
What I
actually do is help my clients see their world differently. Because when
you help someone see their world differently, their world changes. And miracles
occur.
You’ve participated in
many seminars with Robbins, including his Mastery University and Unleash the
Power programs. Robbins – who coaches on setting “SMART” goals that are “specific,
measurable, actionable, realistic, and time sensitive” -- has his students walk
barefoot across a patch of smoldering coals to bolster self-confidence. Do you
urge your clients to get off the couch, set physical goals, as they tackle
career or personal challenges?
Because running switched
everything up for me, I used to believe that by accomplishing an audacious physical
goal, life would dramatically improve for everyone else on the planet if they
did the same. I’ve been a firm believer that, if you want self-esteem, you have
to earn it the old fashioned way, by doing something big—like running a
marathon—to impress your self.
And while I’ll always cling
to these notions to some extent, I’ve come to realize, having worked with lots
of people, that accomplishing something huge isn’t always the fix to what ails
an individual. Sometimes the opposite is true. Sometimes people have to
release those god-awful expectations they have of themselves and find some
inner peace.
Because I’ve been very open
about the challenges I’ve faced as the adult child of an alcoholic, I attract,
among others, a lot of ACOA’s. After all, we learn best from people who
understand our demons, who’ve dealt with the very same issues, most of them
involving boundaries.
Some of my clients could fill
an entire showroom with their blue ribbons, medals, and trophies. Thanks
to their dysfunctional upbringing, they’ve accomplished more than ten Olympians
put together, and to them, it’s still not enough. They’re still not enough.
I want to tell you about a
young woman named Kristina. A few years back, she approached me for
coaching because, unhappy and overwhelmed, she suspected that she was having
some of the issues I’ve referenced.
A top performer at so multiple
levels, Kristina was working at a job she despised. She felt trapped by
an unscrupulous boss, and she couldn’t figure out how to set herself free
without displeasing this jerk.
This is what happens when
you’re raised without boundaries. You don’t realize that it’s your j-o-b to
take care of your self, not sacrifice your well-being because someone else
whines. You don’t learn that healthy boundaries are all about knowing what
is yours, and what belongs to other people. What is your responsibility, and
what is theirs.
Sometimes all we need to let
go of crazy is to hear this truth. Sometimes, all we need is the reality
check that we’re not selfish, or mean, or immature.
Since that time Kristina has
released herself, and turned her passion and serious talent into an exciting
business. A sponsored athlete, ultra-marathoner, and personal trainer, she now
offers group running lessons, customized training plans for intermediate to
advanced runners, and women’s trail running camps through her White Mountain Running Company.
You say you are “obsessed with facing down fear.”
Can you speak to how fear can keep some of us, especially women used to
catering to the needs of others, from discovering what we want out of life and
living our dreams?
I talk to a lot of women’s groups about the
importance of reconnecting with our dreams and desires. Because, as
nurturers, we tend to forget what gives us pleasure.
We’re so busy taking care of everyone else—seeing that our kids, partners,
bosses, and friends get their needs met—that we forget about ourselves. (Yes, men are often guilty of this,
too.) And I find that it’s universally embarrassing to admit that
you don’t have the faintest clue what rocks your world. And yet the forgetting
thing is so common.
Society rewards us (women) for being nurturers, which confuses
us when we want to do something for ourselves instead of others. When we forget
who we are and what we want, we have to find our identities again, or reinvent
them, and this can be hard.
Finding an identity and a
focus is tough. I know women who’ve stayed in bad marriages, and this
includes me, because the idea of going
out on one’s own, of finding the
right path (as if there’s only one), of having no one else to blame when you come up short, feels far more
uncomfortable. The journey required
looks way too daunting. But at some point we have to stop running away from our selves. We have to figure
out who we are, and what we want
I do believe that you
can have a lot more.
There are some really valuable tricks of the trade
when it comes to having it all—drawing boundaries, saying no,
asking for help, delegating, repurposing, drop kicking perfectionism,
and so on, and so forth. (I coach on this topic.) When you don’t do these
things, you sabotage yourself.
Tell us about East Hill Writers’ Workshops, which you founded with
fellow writers Anne Batterson and Sherry Horton.
About four years ago, Anne,
Sherry, and I were asked to talk to Tunxis University students about the
writing process. We had such a blast that we decided to start a writers’
workshop of our own. We opened shop, put up posters, and soon had ten students
for our first workshop. We worked with blossoming writers who wanted to start
novels, kids' books, and memoirs. Some of these writers have stayed with us all
these years, and many have seen publication of books and stories.
We've grown so much, we hired another
instructor. This spring we’re offering one workshop for beginning writers;
another for intermediate: and an intensive, limited-enrollment revision
workshop. And we’re still having a blast!
Who are your favorite authors?
Anne Lamott, author of Bird by Bird. Mary
Karr, who wrote the memoir, The Liar’s Club. David Sedaris makes me laugh my
ass off. And Cormac McCarthy, for the sheer beauty of the writing.
While you’re at work on
a memoir -- A Lost Girl’s Guide to Iran, which will appear next year -- you are
best known for your blog, Things Mama Never Taught Me. Much of your
writing is deeply personal and provocative; some of it seems almost intended to
shock. Is there a cost for being so forthright?
You’ll discover, if you
haven’t already, that a lot of us who choose to write memoir come from
dysfunctional families. We’re taught from childhood not to reveal our
family secrets. We’re told, “Don’t air dirty laundry.” We’re
discouraged from telling the truth even amongst family members. Even to
ourselves!
I believe that we’re as
sick as our secrets. I didn’t want to be sick anymore.
I believe that in order
to get what we want most in life—connection with others—we have to have the
courage to tell the truth, regardless of who will disapprove. We have to allow
ourselves to be vulnerable. We have to risk opening ourselves up to
criticism.
To own your own opinions,
your own story, is to set yourself free.
Everything changed in my
life when I stopped hiding who I really am/was. The world opened up and I grew
to approve of myself, even though I sometimes put others off.
Putting yourself out
there is the best exercise there is for standing in your own power. And there
are consequences to writing about yourself and others. Don’t kid yourself.
Your kids, your
parents, your cousins, some of your friends, are not going to like what you
have to say. And that’s OK.
My mom read something I
wrote years ago and got her nose out of joint. She made the decision not to
read my work; which freed me up. But, machismo aside, it doesn’t make me feel
good to know she disapproves.
More importantly, I
believe my honesty hurt my kids. I write about very adult topics, about my
relationship with their dead father, and some of the things I've revealed have
been far too much for them to take. I believe the revelation that their
Muslim father took a second wife while he was married to me changed the course
of my daughter’s life In particular.
Pleased with my ability
to write about the painful subject, I showed my daughter the story, somehow
forgetting that she'd be reading something awful she didn't know about her dead
father. For a long time she was hurt and angry with her dad, a man who
had always made her feel adored and protected, because he'd hurt me, a woman
he'd deeply loved.
And I believe--and
really, what do I know--that in order to forgive him the act, she embraced the
one thing that had allowed him to justify his actions, the practice of Islam. Months
after reading my story, my daughter began praying five times a day; fasting
during the holy months; and eschewing dating, drinking and premarital sex. To
feel safe in a world she could no longer trust, she became very rigid. So, as
you can see, there are some things I wish I could take back. Sometimes
there is a big cost.
Over the years, I’ve had a
wonderful outpouring of support and love from readers. I learned that
what I had to say—as hard as much of it was for me to do so—made a positive difference
in their lives.
For this reason alone I
will often tell my writing students this: Your REAL audience is desperately
waiting for you to put into words what they are feeling, what they are yearning
to hear. They are waiting for you.
This column appears in the June 2014 issue of The North Star Monthly. Visit their site:
