The Tough Job of Being Defending Champion, in Sport and in Life.

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By Dr. Allison Belger

You entered the race/competition/tennis match last year as a relative unknown.  You had nothing to lose and everything to gain by making your mark on the playing field. You crushed it—the “kid” from out of nowhere, creating a buzz and fueling chatter of spectators and competitors, alike. This year, you want to try again, but being in the position of defending champion feels quite different from being the underdog or the unknown.  You’re afraid you’re not at the top of your game and know for sure that others are.  The pressure of a repeat top performance looms large, and you wonder if it’s worth competing at all.

Your high school or college reunion is fast approaching, and you’re not as smokin’ hot as you were ten years ago when you last attended.  You’d worked your tail off to get fit and look great then, but now the toll of time and some significant negative life events have you looking less lean and radiant than you’d like.  You consider bailing on the festivities.

Your first child’s graduation from high school was a rewarding and inspiring experience. A gifted student, she had won numerous academic awards along with several trophies for prowess on the lacrosse field. She’d been a star in community service, as well, and she’d fallen in with a great group of friends captured in the many photographs you proudly took throughout the weekend’s events. As your second child’s graduation approaches, you’re plagued with fear and sadness. Unlike his sister, your son has struggled in and out of the classroom, and it’s a wonder that he’ll be wearing the cap and gown at all. You’re engaged in some serious internal dialogue about how you will handle this very different parenting role both in the public domain and privately, within the family.  As defending parenting champ, you feel that all eyes are on you, and you know that you must face this battle in a different way.

For the past few years, you’ve enjoyed a level of success in your field that has led to accolades, media attention, and financial rewards. You’ve been on top of your game, enjoying the fruits of your hard work and talents.  Recently, though, you’ve endured some personal struggles and your work life has suffered.  The timing is bad, as there’s a conference of big-wigs and heavy hitters on the horizon, and you’re supposed to be one of the key presenters. You wonder how your message will be received with your status of defending champ in question.

The position of defending champion requires us to rise above pressures to perform in what may appear to be two possible scenarios:

1. Win again and feel relieved that we’ve done what was expected or

2. Fail to win again and seem to prove that our previous victory was a fluke or that we don’t have the goods to stay on top.

As I’ve written before, the expectations for future performances on those who have succeeded in the past can be paralyzing. In contrast, the beauty of the underdog position is freedom from expectation and permission to go out and give it our all. Win or perform well, and we’ll be the surprise talk of the town.  Struggle or fall flat, and it’s likely nobody will even notice. We might be considered a hero just for trying.

Doing something on a grand scale one time is one thing, but having the guts to come back and go for it again is quite another. Try to remember that much of what you perceive others to be thinking is actually your own expectations projected onto the world. Keep in mind that you may have inspired your competitors to up their own game, and that your history and the mark you’ve made will not be erased, even if you don’t reach the podium this time.  As I’ve said before:

Appreciate your history of success, but don’t be trapped by its hold on you.  Be open to the effort, uninhibited by the prison of your own rigid expectations.

Like so many psychological challenges, this one is easier said than done–but not showing up at all shouldn’t be an option. Get yourself to that reunion and shine in spirit and personality. Show up for your son even if it means crying while you’re there; perhaps it’s not all sadness if you let in the rest. Enjoy your sport and compete with passion and humor. You can gracefully pass the torch if your time as champion has come and gone, and your legacy will live on in the others you’ve inspired along the way. Rock that speech at the conference by being honest about your struggles and inspiring others to overcome their own. Maybe you’ll even surprise yourself and repeat history. You’ll never know if you don’t try. Besides, often the most meaningful and memorable growing experiences come when we push through self-doubt and struggle a bit.

On a final note, I’d like to highlight a repeat attempt / defending champ scenario that is close to my heart and home.  Last summer, my then-nine-now-ten-year-old daughter, Hollis, took on a fundraising project for St. Jude Children’s Research Hospital. She juggled her soccer ball every day, posted videos of her daily records, wrote a blog about her experiences and why St. Jude is such an incredible place, and ended up raising an impressive $35,000. She worked like crazy to increase her juggling totals, knowing that higher numbers would attract attention, always mindful of the kids facing far bigger challenges than hers. Ultimately, she reached her goal of 400 consecutive juggles, ending last summer at 461.

The inaugural year of JUGGLING FOR JUDE was a huge success, and the idea of repeating the effort comes with a set of daunting emotions: can Hollis sustain the passion it took to pull off year one? Will people who donated last year want to donate again, and will new donors be found? Will she tire of juggling every day when she has so much else on her plate? Will the pressure of reaching a new goal of $40,000 and 1,000 consecutive juggles be overwhelming and make anything less feel like a failure? So far, despite the pressure, Hollis has come back fighting like a champ and is on path for a repeat performance.  On day six of Juggling for Jude 2015, she blasted past her original summer goal of 500, juggling 660 consecutive times! (video here)

The fundraising has just begun, and while Hollis has only raised a little more than $2,000 so far, she’s optimistic that people will step up in support of St. Jude, where doctors and researchers continue to treat kids with cancer, seeking cures for catastrophic childhood illnesses. If you’ve ever been motivated by my writing or are inspired by defending champ Hollis’s efforts, PLEASE CONSIDER DONATING TO ST. JUDE HERE.  Every dollar helps save a life!


Where has all the Playdough Gone? A Father’s Day Reminder to Stop and Smell the Roses.

IMG_1339Grandfather bliss. New York.  Winter, 2005. 

By Dr. Allison Belger

*This article was originally posted in June, 2013.  It is reposted here in its entirety, in honor of Father’s Day 2015.

Happy Father’s Day to my wonderful father, whose poignant insights appear at the end of today’s article.

“Impromptu pep talk today: live it up, you guys–there’s no playdough in first grade.”

This was a status update posted on Facebook last week by Sarah Buckley, one of our gym members who is a kindergarten teacher.  She was recounting her directive to her soon-to-be first-grade students during their final days as kindergarteners.  The message was this: enjoy the unstructured playtime inherent in kindergarten while you can.  First grade’s a bitch (that part was my interpretation, but you get the idea).  She was telling them to soak in the ease of kindergarten, because different expectations and challenges will kick in during first grade, and things like playdough and free time may be a thing of the past.  Later that night, my older daughter, age ten and heading into sixth grade, was lamenting the impending doom that will be classroom travel in school next year.  This is a kid who loves stability and the comfort of a home base at school; the idea of class travel and teacher differentiation for academic subjects does not thrill her.

These two things got me thinking about why we have such a difficult time appreciating what we have in the moment; it is only when goodness is gone that we realize how fortunate we’ve been.  One of the points of childhood, in my mind, is freedom from recognizing the goodness of our situation.  Indeed, a sign of a healthy childhood is the absence of thought about how things are going and how “good” one has it.  If a child wonders frequently about whether or not he or she is having a good childhood, chances are that he or she is not. A good childhood simply exists.  It does not need to be determined by the child in question.

But beyond the bliss of childhood freedoms, there’s the real notion that we, as adults, are often challenged to appreciate ourselves, our situations, our talents, our possibilities in the moment when they are with us.  All too often, it takes the loss of one of these things to force us to acknowledge how well we had things previously.

Physical appearance is an easy example of this scenario.  How often do we find a million faults with how we look—our weight, our hair, our height, the size of our breasts, the way our knees gather fat?  But years later, we look back at pictures lamenting that the good looks we once had have slipped away.  In the moment, we find fault, but later, we reflect with a sense of loss, acknowledging our former beauty, our vibrancy, our appeal.  I can remember meeting a woman in her late 70’s at a school pick-up (my daughter was five and this woman’s grandson was in her kindergarten class).  The woman gave me a nice compliment about my looks, and I made some kind of self-deprecating remark about how tired I looked–the result of having a five and three-year-old at home–instead of responding with a gracious ‘thank you.’  She quickly and rightfully took the opportunity to school me in the appreciation of beauty and youth and cautioned me that some day I’ll look back at a picture from a day like today when I look “tired,” and I’ll be able to see how beautiful I was.  Smack-in-the-face life lesson, and I’ll not soon forget it.  Of course, it was about much more than appearances.

These days, I’m in the throes of planning the Nor’Easter Masters Competition, a weekend fitness competition for athletes over 40 who do CrossFit.  In my experience as an aging athlete (aging used relatively as I’m 43) and with other Masters athletes, the concept of seizing the moment and making the most of what we have is part of the Masters gig.  Nagging injuries and the fear of a significant setback are omnipresent.  The balance between pushing to one’s limits to get stronger, faster, and better while recognizing one’s limitations and stepping back as needed, is a tricky one to navigate.  What strikes me in the context of this article is how challenging it often is for older athletes to appreciate how much we are able to do.  There is so much focus on the “What if’s” and the “I used to’s” and not enough focus on the “How cool is it that I can’s.”  It often takes a debilitating injury or major surgery for someone to appreciate what they had, just days earlier.  I’m guilty of this, myself.  One strategy that has helped me do some good-old-fashioned appreciating is to note a positive takeaway after each time I workout.  I’m not a journal person, but if I were, I’d write it there.  For me, it’s enough to make a mental note of one thing that went well for me at the gym, on the trail, or at the track.  For you, it might be on the golf course or the tennis court or in the water.  Whatever your domain, make sure you’re not focusing solely on the things you wish you could do better or on how much better, faster, or stronger you were when you were younger.  Make a note of a positive each day, be thankful, and move on.

Seizing the day is an age-old challenge; the struggle to live in the moment and appreciate one’s current blessings is part of being human.  It often takes getting to the next stage in our lives before we can appreciate the goodness of the current one.  Like the kindergartners who will later appreciate their playdough time, athletes often appreciate the health and abilities only after that wellness and those capacities have diminished.

Maybe this struggle is all a function of the need for comparison—we can’t possibly know the abundance of what we have until we have less of it.  We cannot understand the gift of a healthy body until it is compromised by age or injury or illness.  We don’t truly appreciate the joy of a steady paycheck unless we have lost it.  We may take for granted the devotion of, and attention from, a lover until we long for a similar connection later, when we are alone.  We can’t fully comprehend the freedoms of childhood until we look back as adults, tethered by adult responsibilities.

Perhaps the richest example of moments slipping away, only to be cherished at a later date, comes in the realm of parenting.  Human beings start life hopelessly dependent on caregivers.  Unlike many species, we are born far from possessing independent ambulating, feeding, and general living skills.  The complicated human psychological/emotional element adds an intense dimension that makes the rearing of children an incredibly daunting task—rich and rewarding beyond measure, but also heart-wrenchingly challenging.  The overwhelming challenges of parenthood, I think, make full appreciation of the moments involved nearly impossible; there is simply too much to do.  We are up at night, bleary-eyed while nursing and feeding, yearning for a full night’s sleep, only later to crave a late-night cuddle when the teens are out with friends.  We bitch about the demands of homework and driving from one activity to another, only later to long for even the slightest window into what our kids are actually up to at college.  I can’t even begin to imagine what a parent goes through when something goes very wrong for a child.  That kind of yearning is beyond comprehension and the scope of this article, but even when development and the life cycle go as planned, there is much we wish away, only to want it back in later years.

In honor of Father’s Day, I’ll end this piece with some unedited thoughts from my father, now in his mid-seventies, whose own father died suddenly at age 52, when my father was 18.  My parents live in New York, while my family lives in California:

“Your grandmother always would tell me how wonderful the school years were – despite homework, test and papers.  She told me I would long for those days.  Never believed her.  Never lived in the moment.  Would count down on the calendar the last days of school each year.

One year, my father died during the countdown.  Never counted away my life again.  I think it is permissible to count down to seeing my grandkids, though.

Major lesson: This all cannot be taught — empirical evidence required.”

Yes.  But I do think we can all speed up our learning curves a bit.  Today is as good a day as any to start:  Enjoy the accomplishment of your workout (even if you don’t hit a new PR), relish the hug of a loved one (even if he made you angry yesterday), soak in the smell of your infant (even if it’s 2 am and she is screaming), be thankful for your paycheck (even if your boss drives you nuts), and enjoy running your fingers through your hair—it may be frizzy, but at least you have some.

Step Away from the Snap Judgments. Gather Information, and Check in with Your Own Anxieties.


By Dr. Allison Belger

A few weeks ago, I was chatting with my daughters (ages 10 and 12), and the subject of an eighth-grade girl at school came up.  She regularly wears quite a bit of makeup—the thick foundation kind—and has apparently gotten a dicey reputation around this.  My older daughter was saying how nice the girl is and how the story goes that her wearing so much makeup has caused her to have a really bad case of acne.  I agreed that this girl seems like a nice kid, based on my exposure to her over the years.  Then I grabbed the teaching moment for what it was:

“Did you ever wonder,” I said, “if the acne actually came first, and that’s WHY she wears so much makeup? My guess is that she’s embarrassed by her acne, so she tries to cover it up with makeup. I’ve watched her grow up, and I’m pretty sure that’s the case.”

It was one of those “Aha” moments for my girls. We talked about how stories about people get created, told, and retold, so that the stories end up being believed and socially accepted in a seductive and powerful way. These are the stories that follow people and become their lore, in spite of what their actual and true experiences might be.

Every once in a while, we read a quotation or saying at just the right time, so that it resonates and sticks with us, gathering evidence and momentum along the way. This recent one from my Facebook feed was spot on:

“Don’t judge my choices when you don’t know my reasons.”

How often do we make judgments based on limited information, not knowing or understanding the full picture? How often do we say things like, “I can’t believe he did that,” or “How awful; I would never do that.”

Few situations in life are black and white; mostly, life is nuanced and grey, and what can be seen on the surface is but one part of a complex, mostly hidden equation comprised of a variety of experiences and emotions.

If we think we can make legitimate and fair assessments of another person’s choices based only on what can be seen on the outside, we are doing both ourselves and others a disservice.  In general, we need more information about people in order to assess something significant about them. But don’t be fooled; one source of information might not be enough.  Much like information we might find while searching the internet, stories told by others, about others, are not always accurate. If we are invested enough in a person to make a judgment about his or her actions, we should also be invested enough to find out more. Demonstrate your capacity for critical thinking and empathy; investigate further and avoid making judgments.

That girl with the thick coat of makeup? In truth, she is tortured by her acne-pocked skin and has been since fifth grade when the hormones hit, earlier than expected. The makeup is but one attempt to fit in during a particularly challenging time. Instead, her story has been written backwards by the young authors of social lore.  Now, she not only suffers from acne, but (so the story goes) she even caused it, brought it on, herself, by using too much makeup. Poor, pathetic girl.

No doubt acne scares lots of middle schoolers. Nobody wants to be the one with the spotted face.  It’s likely that the anxiety associated with being puberty’s next victim fuels the fire for those who blame the makeup—and, therefore, the girl.  It makes the other kids feel better; it reassures them that if they don’t wear too much makeup, they will be spared. We often calm our own anxieties by convincing ourselves that we won’t share the suffering of others, because we don’t do what they do. This gives us a sense of control, however fleeting and tentative.

Delve beneath the surface, if you care. And if you don’t, then why are you judging? Maybe you’re trying to make yourself feel better. Don’t go there; you are better than that.

Related reading from the archives:

Who are We to Judge?

What’s Your Story?

We are NOT Superheroes. Saddle Up and Prioritize!

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By Dr. Allison Belger

This is a re-post of an article I originally wrote back in August of 2013. 

Recently, in my circles, there has been quite a bit of discussion about the levels of stress experienced by our kids, tweens, and teens, mostly due to high expectations, pressure to perform, over-scheduling, and not enough sleep.  Private high school admissions, college admissions, soccer tryouts, auditions for plays pile on in areas where teen suicides abound.  Certainly, as adults, we often ourselves beyond reasonable expectations, and it’s no wonder that we seem to struggle not to do the same to our children.  Perhaps some of the science in this article will motivate you to help your children dial in priorities and let go of some of their extraneous, plate-filling activities and obligations.  There really is only so much we can do before significant, and sometimes life-altering, negative consequences abound. Deep breaths, Everyone. 

You know how memories are clouded by photographs?  Sometimes what we think are memories from the reality of our past are actually mental constructions based on photographs and stories.  Likewise, sometimes our memories are psychological constructions based on defense mechanisms or other aspects of our psyches.  Here’s an example:  When my brother (older than me by two years), came with my father to pick me up from college after my freshman year, he took one long, hard look at me and said, “What the hell happened to your face?”  You see, like so many college freshman, I had packed on a few pounds over the course of the year.  But the thing is, I’m pretty sure this story isn’t true and my brother never uttered those words.  Instead, I think that was my own projection; I was so afraid that people at home would notice the change in my appearance that at some point I put all of that fear (and loathing) into my brother and made him the bad guy.

This post is actually not about memories or psychological effects on accurate reporting.  This post is actually about will power, self-control, and the personal resources we possess to attack our goals and stick with our intentions.  So why the story about my weight gain in college?  It seems to me that the phenomenon of the Freshman Fifteen—the tendency of first-year college co-eds to gain an average of fifteen pounds—is quite understandable when we know a little more about will power and about the effects of difficult emotional demands on our capacity to make sensible choices.  Assuming that most first-year co-eds don’t actually set out to gain weight and would prefer not to, there is likely some mechanism that makes this such a common outcome.  I’m not interested in the easy answers here:  beer drinking, binge eating, less exercise.  I’m interested in the role of ego depletion—how our self-control resources become limited and impact our ability to make good choices.  You see, will power–the ability to exert self-control,–is a finite resource.  When it has been depleted on any given day, subsequent functioning can be compromised.

Nowhere is will power more obviously implicated than in the realm of dieting.  The thing about dieting that we’ve heard a million times over but seem to ignore, out of desperation to fit into a dress for our best friend’s wedding or look better at the beach on vacation in Cabo, is that there is something inherently defeating about the simple act of “being on a diet.”  Once we proclaim—whether in our own head or publicly—that we are on a diet, our psyches register deprivation.   When we force ourselves to be deprived of something we want, we are engaged in a mental conflict that costs us energy, not unlike when we argue with a friend or family member.  There is a psychic toll when we are forced to grapple with conflicts within ourselves or with conflicting goals.  We both want to lose weight and to have cookies. We both want to be more muscular and to lie on the couch eating bon bons.  We both want to win the race and to socialize the night before.  With each run-in, we must choose an outcome, and the cost of doing so matters.

During the 1990s, there was a boon of interest in the field of social psychology in self-regulation and self-control as human resources.  A pioneer in the field was Roy Baumeister.  In 1998, he and his colleagues published a seminal paper discussing the finite nature of self-control and the concept of ego-depletion.  According to the authors, “The core idea behind ego depletion is that the self’s acts of volition draw on some limited resource, akin to strength or energy, and that therefore, one act of volition will have a detrimental impact on subsequent volition. (p. 1252).” Their article told of four clever experiments, each of which demonstrated that we possess a finite amount of self-control capacity or energy.  With each episode of depletion of that resource, we are left to face subsequent situations with a less robust level of self-control.  Baumeister et al’s (1998) first experiment involved subjects who were left in a room with plates of radishes, on the one hand, and plates of chocolate cookies and candies on the other.  Some subjects were told to eat a certain number of radishes but refrain from the chocolates, while others were told to eat the chocolates.  Both groups were then asked to complete a geometric problem-solving task that was secretly unsolvable and to alert the staff when they were done or when they wished to stop trying.  It turned out that the chocolate group persisted more than twice as long in their problem-solving efforts than the radish group.  The authors concluded that something about the initial deprivation from eating chocolate had depleted subjects’ self-control and persistence resources, so that they were less able to work through the challenging geometric task.

Baumeister et al (1998) conducted three additional experiments, the results of which suggested that different kinds of challenges to our self-control resources lead to lower levels of persistence in subsequent tasks.  In a similar vein, other studies have demonstrated that suppressing our emotions or engaging in challenging group interactions can negatively impact performance on subsequent, unrelated challenging tasks, in both the cognitive and motor domains (Muraven et al., 1998; Richeson & Shelton, 2003).  It turns out that will power is a finite resource.  Try as we might, we may just come up short in our efforts to repeatedly exert such power.  And, beyond will power, emotionally draining and cognitively challenging endeavors also impact subsequent self-regulation and other aspects of our performance.

This ego-depletion model has been studied rigorously since the 1990s.  According to Jamie Holmes (2011), more than 100 experiments have supported Baumeister et al’s (1998) results, indicating that we do, indeed, have a limited supply of will power or self-control, and as it is taxed, we are less likely to exert it subsequently.  Inzlicht and Gutsell (2007) demonstrated that suppressing emotions made subjects less adept at detecting their own errors on subsequent tasks.  This is fascinating stuff.  Emotional restraint actually inhibits our brain’s ability to detect errors in our actions and inconsistencies between our behaviors and our goals.  Seriously?  This gives a whole new meaning to the term “emotional eating,” doesn’t it?  Maybe we need to add “emotional laziness” or “emotional ineptitude” to our cultural lexicon!

Holmes (2011) applied the ego-depletion theory to the epidemic of poverty around the world.  The point here is that poor people are forced to exert self-control regarding finances so often that they are then left in a state of depletion for all other challenges in life.  With each financially-driven decision, they are forced to choose between competing goals or desires, a state of affairs that depletes their ego resources in ways people with money can escape.  This might help people with relative financial wealth understand something more about how challenging it is to be poor.  Maybe, I’m now thinking, there’s a legitimate analogy to those who are chronically obese; getting out of that category is exponentially harder than it is for an average-weight person to drop a few pounds, since the opportunities requiring abstinence in obese people might not even hit the radar of those who are average in weight.

For you athletes in the audience:  A number of researchers have sought to apply the ego-depletion model of will power and self-regulation to athletic performance and exercise adherence.  For example, Bray, Ginnis, Hicks, and Woodgate (2008) found that subjects who completed a taxing cognitive task exhibited significantly higher electromyographic activity during a subsequent physical (hand-grip) task, compared to controls who were not cognitively depleted prior to grip testing.  These results show that people who are ego-depleted must recruit more muscle fibers to perform the same amount of work as those who are not.  Likewise, Bray, Graham, Ginis, and Hicks (2011) showed that cognitive exertion led to a linear decrease in maximal voluntary muscular force production (also a hand-grip task), indicating that cognitive depletion affects muscular endurance.  Dorris et al (2012) performed two experiments demonstrating that completion of challenging cognitive tasks prior to exercise diminished performance for competitive athletes.  In their studies, competitive hockey players and competitive rugby players performed fewer reps of target exercises after completing difficult cognitive tasks than they did after working on simple, non-taxing cognitive tasks.  Seriously?  Maybe the whole “dumb jock” thing isn’t such a bad idea.

Hagger et al (2010) also discuss the physical/physiological implications of the ego-depletion model.  They reviewed countless studies showing that when self-control resources get depleted, there are negative effects on subsequent physical performance and lower levels of adherence to exercise programs.  The authors thus advise that people should “initiate exercise programs at times when they have few demands on their self-regulatory resources (p. 79).”  In other words, it’s probably not a good idea to expect long-term success from committing to a new workout regimen during finals of law school.   No wonder it can be so hard to get to the gym after a long day at school or a long day of decision-making and problem-solving at work.

The above review is a mere glimpse into the significant research on this fascinating topic, and you can dig deeper on your own if you’re so inclined.  Just be sure you don’t have plans for a super-intense workout afterwards, as you’ll probably be a bit taxed.  My goal here is to raise our collective awareness to the reality that various types of ego depletion affect not only our will power with regards to diet and exercise choices, but also our actual physical capacity to perform.

The reason I started along on this topic in the first place is because a long-time TJ’s Gym member named Rip emailed me asking for my take on the idea of finite will power and its impact on our ability to perform at the gym.  Rip was also interested in how cognitive and emotional depletion can impact workouts, and how pushing hard through intense workouts can impact our functioning throughout the rest of our days.  Thanks to Rip, I ended up knee-deep in the literature outlined above, depleting my self-regulatory and cognitive resources, and negatively impacting the quality of my workouts ever since.  That’s right, Rip.  I blame you for my crappy week of training and the extra treats in which I indulged while writing this article.

In all seriousness, Rip’s questions got me thinking about all sorts of applications of ego depletion.  Through all of my years of schooling (and there were plenty), I’ve always found it amusing that some kind of comfort treat accompanied me and my computer and my textbooks, as though hot tea and cookies or a bowl of cherries could fuel my mind.  I’d always sensed that this was some kind of self-reward process meant to soften the blow of all of that mental will power and tenacity.  Turns out, I was kind of on to something; proactively providing a food reward somehow fended off the depletion of self-control and will power that might have happened, had I deprived myself of the treats that crossed my mind.  In other words, I was finding a way to make sure that my will power and self-control energy was directed towards studying and not deprivation of yummy things.  Of course, all behaviors are multi-determined and there were surely other reasons I would eat when I studied, but I’m quite sure this is part of the picture.  I know I’m not alone—remember those days of college finals when you’d eat extra helpings of ice cream and bring candy bars to the library?

A similar phenomenon happened for me in my twenties when I was running marathons.  Having no coaching or sensible training plan, I would pound the pavement day in and day out, often sixteen miles at a time.  Much as I loved running, this kind of repetitive pounding often wasn’t all that much fun and required quite a bit of mental fortitude for me to carry on.  Guess when in my life I ate more junk food than at any other time? During the times leading up to the marathons I ran.  With this new understanding of will power and ego depletion, I feel sure that I was trying to provide some kind of prophylactic buffer against the mental challenge of will power it took to persevere during some of those training runs.  But this state of affairs also begs one of Rip’s questions: How does physical training and intense exercise impact our will power in other areas?  Perhaps the relationship goes both ways.   This would mean that fatigue from physical work might negatively impact our subsequent self-restraint and cognitive and emotional functioning.  Indeed, we know from the research above that if we force ourselves to persevere through a difficult workout–assuming that exercising rigorously is consistent with our long-term goals of health, wellness, and aesthetics–we are utilizing resources that will then be depleted as we go about our lives outside the gym or off the playing field.  We know that the mental part taxes us; perhaps the physical aspect does, too.  That can be a subject for a future article; there’s plenty here already to take in.

So what can we athletes and others take away from all of this?  For those of you whose training is rigorous and whose workout routines are intense (e.g., CrossFit athletes), it might be a good idea to check in with yourselves as to the realities of the benefits of that peak level of intensity.  If we think that constantly pushing our limits at the gym is wise and likely to set us up for greatness in the rest of our lives, we might want to think again.   I have written about the post-exercise high and how we can harness it to attack goals in our lives.  I absolutely believe that the fitter we are, the more likely we will be to tackle with grace and success the challenges we face.  However, while we bask in the glory of the post-workout high, let us be mindful of our limited psychological and cognitive resources and recognize that there might be a psychic cost involved with the mental fortitude and discipline inherent in intense training, day in and day out.   If you are doing a CrossFit AMRAP (as many reps as possible) workout during a particularly stressful time at work, those extra ten reps might cost you in the form of an hour of lost productivity at the office.  Or those thirty seconds you took off your 5k run time just after a fight with your girlfriend might translate into a glazed doughnut and glass of wine later in the day.  Remember, your stores of will power and mental fortitude are finite.  Emotional stress affects those stores.  Making tough choices and sticking with goals affects those stores.  Make sure you are spending your self-regulation chits wisely, and don’t get too greedy with them.  Short-term, you might be able to do it all, but long-term your stores are likely to get depleted.  (see “Money Zone” article for more on the importance of saving your best self for your highest priorities.).   This all sheds light on the phenomenon of burnout for athletes who train hard for long periods of time.  Paying attention to our bodies is not enough—we need to pay attention to our minds, as well!

That’s right.  There’s always that looming underbelly—your psyche will find a way to catch up with you if there is bubbling content to be dealt with.  It will wreak havoc on your stores of will power and deplete your ego faster than refusing a bowl of your favorite ice cream ever could.  Which brings us back, full circle, to those Freshman Fifteen.  Given the emotional demands on new college students who are forced to regulate themselves outside of the watchful eye of parents for the first time in their lives, it is certainly understandable that deprivation from food and drinks might go by the wayside.  As we have learned, there is only so much fuel in that tank of will power, and with every act of self-control we must exert, that tank is depleted.  Having additional psychological challenges on top of the usual only makes the task that much more difficult for college freshman and for the rest of us.  It behooves us all to be aware of these phenomena and do what we can do monitor ourselves appropriately.


Baumeister, R., Bratslavsky, E., Muraven, M., and Tice, D.M.  (1998).  Ego depletion: Is the active self a limited resource?  Journal of Personality and Social Psychology, 74(5), 1252-1265.

Bray, S.R., Ginis, K.A.M., Hicks, A.L., and Woodgate, J. (2008).  Effects of self-regulatory strength depletion on muscular performance and EMG activation. Psychophysiology, 45, 337-343.

Bray, S.R., Graham, J.D., Ginis, K.A.M, and Hicks, A.L. (2011).  Cognitive task performance causes impaired maximum force production in human hand flexor muscles.  Biological Psychology, 6740.

Dorris, D.C., Power, D.A., Kenefick, E. (2012).  Investigating the effects of ego depletion on physical exercise routines of athletes.  Psychology of Sport and Exercise, 13(2).

Hagger, M.S., Wood, C.W., Stiff, C., and Chatzisarantis, N.L.D. (2010).  Self-regulation and self-control in exercise: the strength-energy model. International Review of Sport and Exercise Psychology, 3(1), 62-86.

Holmes, J. (2011).  Why can’t poor people escape poverty?  New Republic Online Magazine.

Inzlicht, M. and Gotsell, J.N. (2007).  Running on empty: Neural signals for self-control failure. Psychological Science, 18(11), 933-937.

Muraven, M., Tice, D.M., & Baumeister, R.F. (1998). Self-control as limited resource: Regulatory depletion patterns. Journal of Personality and Social Psychology, 74, 774–789.

Richeson, J.A., Baird, A.A., Gordon, H.L., Heatherton, T.F., Wyland, C.L., Trawalter, S., & Shelton, J.N. (2003). An fMRI investigation of the impact of interracial contact on executive function. Nature Neuroscience, 6, 1323–1328.

Quick Tips for Managing Performance Anxiety in Sport and in Life.


By Dr. Allison Belger

Stress and anxiety are so much a part of our lives.  Even for those of us who don’t suffer from clinical levels of anxiety and are not under duress due to extreme life circumstances, worry and concern creep in regularly, can affect our emotional and relational lives, and can wreak havoc on our performance if we don’t develop effective coping strategies.

During the past few weeks, I’ve been approached by a number of different people asking for help in handling anxiety, and it occurred to me that putting together a list of strategies might be of benefit for my readers.  These stress-ridden individuals are a diverse bunch — from the 30-something professional seeking a new job and worried about the interview, to the 13-year-old competitive soccer player having nightmares about club tryouts, to the 24-year-old CrossFit athlete preparing for the upcoming CrossFit Games qualifiers, to the 16-year-old student anticipating taking the SAT.  Each is looking for ways to settle his/her mind in order to navigate tense situations as optimally as possible. Below are some tips and strategies that can help manage anxiety and performance issues that permeate our busy lives.

  1.  4-7-8 breathing techniques: When we are anxious, we tend to have shallow breathing from our chest, which means we get less than optimal levels of oxygen intake.  4-7-8 breathing allows us to increase oxygen intake and leads to a calming effect.  The gist of it is to sit down, place your tongue behind your front teeth, and breathe in through your nose for four counts.  You then hold your breath for seven counts and actively exhale for eight. (Lightheadedness can occur in beginners.) Repeat the process up to four times in a session, up to twice daily, or based on your levels of acute stress. This is a great strategy to implement in anticipation of a stressful event or for performance anxiety.
  2. VisualizationI’ve written about this longstanding and well-researched sports performance strategy many times before. The idea is to engage in a regular practice of walking yourself through the steps of an anxiety-producing scenario.  Lying on the floor in a dark, quiet room without distractions, mentally run through the steps in an upcoming competition, presentation, or exam.  Be relentless about the details: see your clothes, smell the air, imagine the way the ball feels as it touches your feet, or the way the pencil feels in your hand.  Imagine your audience laughing, smiling, reacting positively to you, and feel that response. Visualize things going according to plan and force yourself to experience the details of how that looks and feels.
  3. Education:  Learn about the physiological realities of arousal and performance anxiety. Knowledge is power.  Being able to recognize that adrenaline is meant to increase performance and has real benefits when appropriately channeled will allow you to embrace its effects when you’re anxious.  Understanding the Yerkes-Dodson law of arousal and optimal performance will give you perspective on the importance of being jazzed enough to perform well while being calm enough to make sure that happens.
  1. Allow your body (and mind) to do its thing: Don’t over-think things during a performance.  I’ve written in great detail about the role of conscious processing theory in learning new motor patterns and sports skills.  The application for today’s article is to remind us that once our bodies know how to do something–having practiced movements at great length via training–we should just allow the body to follow through and do its thing. Verbally mediated processing, on the other hand, may hinder performance. Unfortunately, when we are anxious, we tend to rely on the kind of language-based, analytical thinking that actually gets in the way of our success. This approach can also be applied to test taking and public speaking; don’t over-think something you’ve practiced or completed multiple times in training versions of the real thing.
  1. Engage in positive self-affirmation leading up to a stressful performance or test.  Studies have shown that reminding ourselves of our positive attributes (e.g. “I’m a charitable person” or “I am a great friend and loyal confidante”) prior to engaging in a stressful task allows us to take the edge off our performance and leads us to be more open to feedback and personal growth. In a nutshell, if we enter an anxiety-ridden evaluative situation feeling good about ourselves and recognizing the totality of who we are, we are less likely to experience the situation as do-or-die.
  1. Create a mantra: It should be a short, simple phrase that works by blocking negative thinking while focusing our minds in a positive process.  Such phrases as “I’ve got this” or “I belong here” or “No worries, keep going, do your thing” or “It’s hard, but I’m tough” are examples of simple mantras that can redirect the mind when tempted to go down a slippery slope of negative thinking. Without this tactic, if we miss the first ball that comes to us on the soccer field, we might start telling ourselves that we have no business being on this team, and everyone is going to know it.  Or, we might feel excessively clumsy as we do our first trick in a dance routine or seriously unprepared when the first question on an exam is a stumper.  If we have a quick-and-practiced way of reeling in these negative thoughts, we can avoid the unwanted downward spiral.  Having a go-to mantra can serve this function.
  1. Spend time leading up to the performance or competition doing things you enjoy with people who make you feel good; avoid negative thinking about possible failure. Instead, occupy yourself and your mind with thoughts and experiences that make you feel positive and energized.
  1. Reflect on your performance when it’s over; this is a helpful tool for facing future challenges and scenarios. Be sure to take time to consider how things went for you—jot down notes about which strategies worked best and which didn’t seem to work as well.  Learn from experience so that you become an expert in managing yourself and your levels of negative thought and anxiety. Stressful situations are a part of life, and it behooves us all to get a handle on what helps us calm our minds and perform at our best.

While this is, by no means, an exhaustive list, it is a great start and hopefully includes some helpful, practical strategies as you confront anxiety and the next challenge in your life.  One caveat worth mentioning: if you suffer from extreme anxiety and feel burdened by negative thinking much of the time, you should reach out to a mental health professional for assistance.

Making Sure There’s a Forest in Your Trees: Taking Stock of Your Personal Pursuits.

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By Dr. Allison Belger

The idiom,“You can’t see the forest for the trees,” reminds us that sometimes, if your vantage point is too close, it is difficult or impossible to take in the whole picture. We often use this to describe what happens when people get so consumed by details that they can’t appreciate the totality of a situation.  Like viewing a painting from so close that your focus is on the individual brush strokes or fine lines, taking in an experience from the inside, only, might prevent you from making sense of the overall image.

It’s been almost three months since I posted my last article on this blog.  Although it wasn’t a conscious decision to take a break from writing, I followed my gut and didn’t push a new topic until one came to me naturally. Yes, the chaos of the holidays and some significant work events played a role here, but mostly I write when I feel like writing and/or when an idea with legs surfaces on its own.  When that didn’t happen for an extended period of time, I went with it; doing so gave me a renewed conviction that I should only write when I am inspired. Since starting this blog three years ago, I have come to realize that I write for pleasure and to share ideas with my readers; this is not my “job,” nor do I write in order to sell a product or build a brand. Were I never to allow myself to go with the ebb and flow of ideas and drive to write, I’d likely force the writing, and both my enjoyment of the process and the quality of my content would suffer.

As I’ve written before, it can be quite difficult to take a few steps back and evaluate a pursuit in which we’ve become personally invested.  Discussing the process of considering a break from training for a particular sport or physical challenge, I wrote the following in 2013:

Having the capacity to make changes in our lives is critical.  Having the courage to shake up our own status quo is hard.  Familiarity is comforting, even when imperfect.  The idea of stepping away from something to which we’ve given a solid chunk of ourselves is frightening.  Maybe it’s the feeling that all of the time, energy, planning, we have put into the endeavor will seem like a big waste if we leave it behind.  Perhaps we are afraid that we won’t find anything else to fill the void…Then there’s the addiction element: perhaps something about our training and physical pursuits serves a function far greater than fulfilling our competitive drive or helping to keep us in shape.  Maybe, like any addiction, it has become a way to prevent ourselves from feeling something we are afraid to feel or from knowing something about ourselves that we are afraid to face.

This analysis, I think, applies to far more than physical training. If we are so immersed in the day-to-day of any pursuit—be it a relationship, a job, a hobby-turned-obsession—that we can no longer see the forest for the trees, it might be time for a new perspective.  Many of us, as parents, encourage our kids to do this all the time: if you’re playing a sport five out of seven-days-a-week year round, perhaps it’s time to check in and be sure it’s still rewarding and fun.  Has that spontaneous and joyful experience of jamming with some friends become a tedious band practice every day?  Maybe it’s time to put down the guitar, and listen to that inner voice about what you find positive and meaningful. Most likely there’s a balance to strike or a change to be made that invites the joy of the pursuit back in.

As adults, we are just as easily consumed by our projects and habits and hobbies and commitments. The trees may seem lovely enough, but how’s that forest doing? My message this week as I come back from my own brief hiatus is this: Be sure to step back from time to time, take in the big picture at the expense of the details, and assess your relationship to the ways you are spending your time, finances, energy, and precious psychological resources. Have your activities become automatic, lacking in spirit and resonance?

The good news is that there’s always time for change.  But, like almost everything in life, making something different happen will likely require an open mind and some emotional fortitude.  Stick with it; the process and outcome are worth it

In Defense of Youth Sports in America.


By Dr. Allison Belger

Lately, there has been an abundance of articles in social media documenting what is wrong with youth sports. Parents, coaches, doctors, and bloggers alike are focusing on problems with organized sports for young people in America. These articles often show up in my news feeds, shared and promoted by some of my closest and most respected friends. While I frequently agree with what I read, part of me is left thinking about how different and positive my experience has been as a coach and parent of children actively engaged in organized sports.

My daughters are 10 and 12. They both play soccer and have since they were five. I’ve coached my older daughter’s recreation league teams since she was in first grade and also coached my younger daughter’s rec team from grades one to three. In fourth grade, this daughter made the leap to competitive soccer (known elsewhere as select soccer or club soccer). The main differences between competitive and rec teams include tryouts vs. open enrollment, professional coaches vs. parent coaches, and long-distance travel vs. local games. The intensity and commitment of competitive soccer is often more significant than that of rec soccer, and, as a whole, the kids who choose the former are more serious about the game than those who choose the latter. Of course, at the youngest age levels, it is often the parents driving the decision to try out, and, therefore, it is the parents who are more serious.

I grew up playing soccer and played for many years, all the way through to my time on a Division One college team, complete with nine-hour bus trips for games. I was also a serious field hockey player throughout high school, and the majority of my most powerful and emotionally laden childhood memories are of time spent on one field or another—playing, practicing, or whooping it up with my teammates. My goal for my own daughters is that they, too, will make lifelong memories through experiences that are uniquely created in sport, regardless of the “eliteness” of their level of play. So far, so good.

These days, there is much talk about the importance for young girls of making meaningful connections that foster their self-esteem; the goal is to encourage young women to have a strong voice and the capacity to be heard and to make a difference. We are told that girls need to develop their physical selves in order to be strong and healthy, better able to combat the pervasive media messages that threaten to make them sexual objects. We are told that friendships made in the context of shared, meaningful pursuits will help them resist negative peer pressure–including experimentation with drugs and alcohol–and make good decisions as they navigate the challenges of adolescence.

While there are many avenues that can provide such connections for our daughters, to my mind there is no substitute for the connections girls make when they are part of a sports team–a view rooted in my own childhood as an athlete. In my years of working as a psychologist specializing in assessments of children, teens, and young adults, I saw the benefits of group membership and shared pursuits—from music groups, to chess clubs, to debate teams.

However, there is something particularly transformative about what can happen when physical effort is at the root of human connectedness. Sharing the rigors of training, the triumphs and losses, the fatigue and grit, and so many other aspects of team sports, can truly make magic happen among team members. To be fair and clear, my own daughters have found similar reinforcement through their commitment and involvement in a tight-knit performing arts community. Even here, the physical aspects of dance and movement on stage are part of the positive group experience, much as we see with sports. Still, I stand by my story that, as a rule, sports reign along these lines.

No doubt about it: there are things wrong with today’s youth sports scene. As mentioned above, I have read the articles highlighting the premature selection of “talent;” the physical and psychological downsides of early specialization; and the obvious negative impacts of parents who infuse into the experience an intense and misguided drive for stardom, college scholarships, and even careers as professional athletes. I have witnessed firsthand the politics and drama that can permeate both recreational programs and competitive clubs. I have seen kids in tears after games, while their parents stomp off from the sidelines, clearly disappointed in their child’s performance or the bad call of a ref.  I have, myself, been guilty of less-than-optimal emotional involvement in a particular game or outcome.

However, I’m here to say there is a whole lot that is RIGHT with youth sports if my girls’ experience is any indication of what can take place across our fields and towns. My daughters are making friends and sharing common ground with girls they might not otherwise know or connect with at all. They are learning that things don’t always go their way, but they can still be engaged while working toward a goal. They are learning that coaches (myself included)—like teachers, parents, and others in positions of power and authority—are not always perfect. They are learning how to push through fatigue, how to fight when they’re feeling defeated, and how to access parts of themselves that they didn’t know existed—attributes that can only be unveiled and revealed through competition.

They are learning that people come to the field with varying abilities, and that each can make a contribution in some way. The girl who struggles with the short passing game might have the strongest shot. The girl who is bigger and slower just might be a human wall on defense. The girl who is shy and reserved might find her powerful voice on the field, helping to direct traffic and make things happen. The girl who is challenged by academics just might be a star in the game and might inspire others to try harder. The list of positives goes on and on.

There is nothing incredibly special or unique about the teams on which my girls have played; their stories are just like those of your kids. There are ups and downs–moments of elation and moments of defeat and sadness. There are times when everything seems to click and times when it all seems pointless. Sounds like a pretty real and fabulous tool for dealing with most events in our lives, doesn’t it?

Parents, coaches, and those in charge of youth sport organizations need to behave well as positive role models, no doubt about it. But I think it’s important that we continue to acknowledge all that can be good about having our kids play: the forum still provides an opportunity for meaningful human connection, increased self-confidence, along with physical fitness and the empowerment that follows. Let’s not throw out the proverbial baby with the bath water. With renewed attention to what is “right,” we can continue to provide opportunities for our kids to thrive while participating in youth sports in America. I, for one, am in the game and hooked for life, regardless of whether my own girls take the field. Of course, I hope they will!

The Slippery Slope of the “Things Could Always be Worse” Perspective.


By Dr. Allison Belger

The other day on Facebook, a good friend posted something that had happened to her kids. One of them, a pre-teen and budding photographer, had lost a file of treasured pictures from his hard drive. The other, age eight, had melted down after discovering that his Legos had been unexpectedly tidied up in his absence, though he was in the midst of a grand building scheme.  As parents often do, my friend was reflecting on the events and the meaning she and her kids had each made of the losses they’d suffered.

So often, we talk about how to help our kids (and ourselves) maintain perspective when they, or we, encounter loss or endure an insult of some kind. In the example of my friend and her two boys, the parental message was one of a splash of empathy mixed with a big dose of perspective: bottom line? Nobody has Ebola, so it’s time to move on, right?

Yes, but…

I am fortunate to have been raised by hardworking, successful parents who could afford some of the finer things in life and made a point of encouraging new experiences and opportunities for me and my brother.  Their work ethic and desire to provide for their kids trickled down to me, and my resulting M.O. is to raise my daughters to have a work ethic and drive of their own, an inner sense of civic responsibility and the importance of giving back, and a childhood free of serious financial burdens.  Sounds perfect, right?

Well, things aren’t always so streamlined and clear. Many people in our social circles struggle with the same questions my parents faced decades ago: How do we raise children in relative comfort without a sense of entitlement or tendency to overreact when confronted by minor adversity? How do we develop in our children an appreciation of their good fortune compared to the challenges faced by so many in the world around them?  How do we instill a work ethic and solid values, while giving them so much “stuff”?  These questions have been debated for years, but my focus here is slightly different: how can we provide genuine empathy when our kids hit bumps in the road—acknowledging their disappointments and distress while maintaining perspective and helping them stay grounded.

I’ve written on this topic before, dealing with the “it’s just a game” mantra when things don’t go our way in sport:

For those of us fortunate enough to have been raised within a loving family where basic needs were met and fundamental aspects of childhood were sustained, the “things could always be worse” mantra can loom large in our psyches… But what if we are never allowed to feel pain or disappointment because the message we continually receive is that we are fortunate and that others suffer more?  What if things literally could always be worse and, therefore, our problems are never legitimate enough to warrant attention or sympathy?

So when our budding photographer loses his cherished photographs in middle school or our eight-year-old comes home to find his Lego village destroyed, our instinct is to remind them that it’s important to keep perspective.  We tell them that “it’s not the end of the world,” that they can always take more photos and build a new Lego city.  In fact, we might add in frustration how lucky they are to have fancy cameras and hard drives and Legos, which 90% of the world’s children can only dream about.  And, besides (we might pile on), many kids with cancer or who’ve lost a parent, or who are in foster care, would give up their cameras and Legos in a heartbeat for a chance at health and stability.  Indeed, when my nine-year-old daughter had moments of fatigue this summer while juggling her soccer ball to raise money for the kids at St. Jude Hospital, you can be sure I whipped out the “suck-it-up-because-you-don’t-have-cancer-message” one time too many.

Our intentions are good. We are doing our best to create grounded kids with a sense of appreciation and perspective. But here’s the problem: it can be all too easy to go overboard and raise kids whose cuts and scrapes never get acknowledged, because someone else lost a limb. We can create kids whose psyches resonate with the message of “things could always be worse,” and are never allowed to acknowledge any loss in their lives.  Their dad might be away on business trips five out of seven nights a week, but at least they have a dad.  Their mom might be starving herself to fit into her party jeans, but at least she makes their lunch every day, and it’s packed in a monogrammed lunch box. They may have lost their championship soccer game, but how lucky to be able to pay for the traveling team, to be healthy and have the experience of competitive soccer in the first place.

It’s a slippery slope, the perspective one, and I’m here today to give voice to the importance of having our little “owies” acknowledged, bandaged, and cared for. We all need to feel that we are heard, seen, and nurtured, no matter the big picture.  And while this strategy refers mostly to parenting, it also applies to how we treat ourselves. If we grow up being told over and over that things could always be worse, that we are so fortunate to have what we have and be who we are, we just might end up trying secretly and desperately to find a REAL reason to be taken seriously and cared for, with outcomes that are far from ideal.

The lifelong message is to keep in mind the importance of acknowledging and validating the pain and disappointment of our everyday losses while also understanding and appreciating the big picture and the positive aspects of our lives. This balance is as tricky as life balances get, but with all the self-help and parenting advice that gets thrown around these days, especially in circles of privilege, it is well worth remembering.



From the Mouths of Babes; Sometimes the Best Content Comes from the Youngest Minds!


By. Dr. Allison Belger

It’s nice when you’re super busy, and your 9-year-old can do your writing for you! That’s what happened this afternoon. The article below is written by my daughter, Hollis, who worked her tail off this summer juggling her soccer ball and blogging about her efforts in order to raise money for St. Jude Children’s Hospital.  As of this post, she has raised more than $31,000 for St. Jude, and is going strong through September, which is Childhood Cancer Awareness Month.  A Psychologist/Mom, I encouraged her to take some time to reflect on her experience as she prepares to head back to school tomorrow.  Below is her post in its entirety. If you’re interested in more on her summer effort, please visit

I’m going back to school tomorrow, and since my mom is a psychologist, she suggested that I take some time to reflect on my summer experience of raising money for St. Jude Hospital.  I’m not done yet! My donation page is still open till the end of September, and I plan to keep asking for donations!  But the daily juggling is done and now it’s time to get back to school.  Juggling for Jude has been a GREAT experience, and I have definitely learned a whole lot. I think I look at life in a different way now.

*I’ve learned that you can always make a change in the world.

*I’ve learned that small people can be capable of wonderful things.

*I’ve learned that I’m a good soccer juggler.

*I’ve learned that you can really do anything you set your mind to. It’s not just a quote–it’s really a true story! :)  (My mom likes this one the best)!

*I’ve learned that St. Jude is a great hospital and every kid should feel thankful that St. Jude exists. Even if you don’t have cancer, because they work to find cures, and really you never know what the future holds.

*I’ve learned that kids with cancer at St. Jude are the ones really doing the hard work. 

*I’ve learned that you should always set your sights and goals high.  The more you strive for, the more you will accomplish.

*I’ve learned that if you push through the hard parts in life, even when it feels really hard, there’s usually a light at the end of the tunnel.  You just have to keep with it.

*I’ve learned that there are amazing people in the world and many of them donated for Juggling for Jude. People can really come together to make a difference, and I am so lucky that people did that for my fundraiser.

Thank you for your support and your donations so far. And don’t forget, I’M NOT QUITE DONE YET!  My DONATION PAGE will stay open through the end of September in honor of Childhood Cancer Awareness Month, so please donate if you can and tell ALL of your friends and family to donate.  I really think we can get closer to $40,000, and that would mean more help for the kids at St. Jude who are fighting every second of every day! So, let’s go for it!

Oh, and one last thing: I still want to be on The Ellen Show. I think it would be super fun (I mean she’s funny, and I’m funny!), and I could juggle, and we could raise more money for St. Jude. So if you know how to help make that happen, please help!

Thanks for your support!


There’s Hard and Then There’s HARD.

By. Dr. Allison Belger

If you follow me on social media, you know that I’ve spent much of my time and energy this summer supporting my nine-year-old daughter in a fabulous fundraising event called Juggling for Jude.  For those of you who don’t know, the gist is that she has been juggling her soccer ball daily to raise money for St. Jude Children’s Research Hospital.  At the time of this article, she has raised nearly $30,000 in two short months, and her most recent juggling record is 461, alternating feet.  No small feat, and not your average summer lemonade stand!

As one often does when being personally invested in a significant venture, I’ve learned quite a few things during this summer of Juggling for Jude.  One of the themes that has surfaced for my daughter is how to fight through the times that are “hard.”  During a recent conversation about it, as I reflected on her tenacity and hard work, it occurred to me that I’ve learned much about what “hard” means in the past couple of months.  Here’s a sampling:

*It’s hard to juggle a soccer ball hundreds or thousands of times every  day. This is especially true if you if you are nine and have a broken toe.

*It’s hard to ask friends and family to donate money, even if it is for a great cause.  It’s even harder to ask them more than once.

*It’s hard to make your kid juggle a soccer ball when she is feeling tired and has plenty of other things to do.

*It’s hard to (cold) contact celebrities and news organizations in an effort to spread the word about a fundraiser, in hopes of increasing donations.

*It’s hard to be sure your other child isn’t feeling left out.

*It’s hard to add a new project to a family’s already packed schedule.

*It’s hard to juggle a soccer ball when it’s windy.  It’s also hard to juggle a soccer ball when it’s 100 degrees outside and you’ve already been to dance camp and soccer practice.

You know what else is hard?

*It’s hard to be a middle schooler who sticks up for the kid getting bullied at school.

*It’s hard to tell someone you love that you are worried they drink too much.

*It’s hard to say no to your high school peers when they offer you a shot of vodka.

*It’s hard to take a risk on hiring an employee who lacks the credentials for a job but whose work ethic, commitment, and capacity for growth seem legitimate.

*It’s hard to not join in when all of your friends are giggling about the fat kid and what she’s wearing.

*It’s hard to approach someone who is awkward and shy and invite him to eat lunch with you and your “cool” friends.

*It’s hard to organize meal deliveries for a friend whose spouse is fighting cancer.

*It’s hard to change your lifestyle in order to improve your health.

*It’s hard to train for your sport five hours each day.

*It’s hard to ask for help when you need it but are usually the one people seek out when they are in need.

Each of us encounters hardships in our lives; it’s how we attack these challenges that comprise our character and make up who we are. Sometimes we drop the ball–we quit juggling too early or we pretend we don’t hear our friends giggling as the fat girl walks by.  We act like we don’t see the awkward student sitting alone, or we choose to hire the person who has the “right” credentials, even though our gut tells us that the other candidate might be a better fit for the job.  We accept a cup of vodka punch to avoid being teased, or we put off confronting our alcoholic family member, convincing ourselves that he will stop on his own or that it’s not our place to step in.

Sometimes, though, we gather our strength, harness our determination, and fight our battles with tenacity and perseverance.  We acknowledge the challenges, perhaps even engage in some self-pity, but move forward with the task at hand.  If we are lucky, we may be able to tolerate the time between the positive action and the reward for having done it.  Sometimes, we even have to accept the fact that the only reward we will receive is knowing we did the right thing.  There will be no trophy or medal or party.

You know what’s REALLY hard?

Being told your child has cancer and watching him or her go through a battle that makes any other battle seem like a walk in the park.  And being a child with cancer?  Harder than we can fathom.

Keep fighting when faced with your own personal hard, and always keep in mind the continuum of what challenges exist in the world.  Commit to yourself that you will push through challenges and stick with the hard times, but be sure to keep perspective.  Should you ever be faced with the unfathomable, the hope is that your training will guide you.

If you would like to donate to St. Jude Children’s Research Hospital on behalf of Juggling for Jude, please do so here.


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