“I have a lot of respect for those who put their lives on the line so the rest of us can live in freedom,” said Goldman.

But one part of the presentation truly resonated with Goldman: The ringing of the bell during SEAL training. “Choosing to ring the bell is a decision with consequences. For a SEAL in training, ringing the bell signals that you’re giving up,” explained Goldman. 

For his wife, however, ringing the bell at Sloan Kettering celebrated an end to her breast cancer treatment and her drive to keep going. And that bell of hope and positivity is the one that Goldman himself chooses to symbolically ring when he goes on his long-awaited solo 4000+-mile cross-country bike ride.

Biking for Mental, Physical and Spiritual Well-Being

For Goldman, his journey is more than just about a bike ride. It’s about the reaching his mental, physical and spiritual goals along the way:

Mental. As a planner who is also considered persistent, Goldman gets great satisfaction out of setting goals and achieving them.

Physical. Goldman, who began riding initially in the hopes of dodging a medication bullet, is now back at  his college weight and is ready to put his front tire in the water on each coast.

Spiritual. Goldman is looking forward to the freedom that this trip represents. He wants to stare into the face of the unknown and prove to himself that he has the physical and mental stamina to “keep the pedals moving.”

But confronting the unknown largely comes down to Koontz’s five P’s: Preparedness, positivity, pack, perseverance and progress.

Of those five, “pack” stuck out the most for Goldman.

The Power of the Pack

“Had it not been for this presentation, having the security of a pack on a solo bike ride never would have occurred to me. As I thought about how I would get the security of the pack, it dawned on me that as a Rotary Club member, perhaps I could visit Clubs along the way and offer presentations about my experiences in exchange for moral and, if needed, physical support,” described Goldman.

“The greatest satisfaction that I get from speaking is inspiring, motivating, and challenging people to become better in every area of their lives. It’s always my goal to encourage my audience to combine action with motivation, and John has done just that. A job well done, my friend!” said Koontz.

As Goldman prepares for his 2022 cross-country journey, Goldman is not just mapping out his route but is connecting with Clubs to start those conversations.

And, as he continues his planning, Goldman will look to Koontz’s book, The Truth Behind My Trident: Overcoming Life and Business Obstacles the Navy SEAL Way, and military insight to help him pack his physical and mental go-bag to set himself up for success.

For more information on Koontz and his in-person and virtual motivational presentations, visit philkoontz.com.

To connect with John Goldman about his upcoming cross-country trip, read his blog or send email to: Jgoldman@stny.rr.com.

The post Navy SEAL Adds Inspiration to Financial Executive’s Plans for 2022 Cross-Country Bike Ride appeared first on Beth Tancredi, Author, Ghostwriter, Blogger.

A reminder that

unlike “the before times,”

we are always home.

Working.

Learning.

Eating.

Drinking.

And by the time the light signals that the dishes are clean,

there will be

two more dirty cups,

a bowl

and two spoons

waiting in line to get in.

The post The Dishwasher appeared first on Beth Tancredi, Author, Ghostwriter, Blogger.

It’s not the first time you’ve sent me words of encouragement that I’m conquering motherhood (and life). And I hope it’s not the last.

You seem to know exactly when I need to hear this, but I don’t think you know how much it means to me.

Your latest text has me wondering, though, whether your mother ever told you what a great job you did raising us.

My guess is no.

And not because Grandma didn’t think it, but in those days, I just don’t think it was something that people felt the need to say. Besides, in my mind (and probably in Grandma’s), you carried motherhood with such class and grace, you never appeared to need the reinforcement.

But I bet you did need it because this parenting thing is a tough business!

Several times a year, I text or email you to apologize for the things I did as a teenager and to thank you for putting up with me. (And by the way, thank you for always responding that you have forgotten about those issues!) But I don’t think I’ve ever told you what a great job you did on conquering motherhood (and now grandmotherhood)!

When you look at what your daughters have become and the families we are raising, I think you have some pretty solid proof of your success as a mother.

But if that’s ever not enough…

I just wanted to tell you that you are a WONDERFUL mother and an intelligent, funny and accomplished woman and you should be proud of yourself!

Love, Beth

The post Dear Mom: You Did a Great Job Too appeared first on Beth Tancredi, Author, Ghostwriter, Blogger.

Hell, it wasn’t just suspicion. I even had my evidence.

But I never wanted to believe it. Not for one second.

Because surely, if what I thought what was going on was really happening, I must have been the reason for it.

“It’s not you,” I would think, “It’s me. I’m not enough. Enough wife. Enough mother. Enough lover. Enough success.”

Your narcissism fed me that poison by the spoonful… because as long as I doubted myself, you could continue doing what you wanted to do.

It WAS me, right?

So, let me say it for you… because 10 years later, I realize that the one person who should have said it – who should have owned it – didn’t.

I’m very much aware of who you are. And I’m even more aware of who I am. I’m more than enough.

I can now I can say with no uncertainty… Your indiscretions were never about me.

It’s you, not me.

The post It’s Not You, It’s Me… appeared first on Beth Tancredi, Author, Ghostwriter, Blogger.

“I was surrounded by co-workers doubled over their trash cans throwing up,” he said, “It was sheer panic as we watched what seemed to be the market whittling away to nothing. Panic over their own money. Panic over their clients’ money. One guy threw his desk chair at the window, hoping to hurl it – followed by himself – right on through. Damndest thing about windows in a high rise building though, they don’t break that easily.”

I was too young to be in the game back then, but I’m in certainly in it now.

For years, I just let myself ride the market, taking advice from trusted advisors along the way, but for the most part, I allowed everything to sit where it was because, after all, it was comfortable. It was working for me.

In the last few years, I have seen glimmers of hope that perk up my ears enough to start paying attention again. Enough to watch, heart racing, as things started to look more promising.

But I’ve also held on tightly (breath held) as I’ve watched what I value drop in a steep, scary descent.

In 2018, we are calmed by calling these “market corrections.”

But I wonder, how long do you hold on to the hope that there’s another, more permanent (but steady) upswing somewhere on the horizon before you give up on it? At what point do you realize that your investment is not working for you as much as you work for it?

And I realize now that it’s not just time for the stock market to correct itself. It’s time for my own market correction.

Which is exactly why I’m quitting on an investment that doesn’t feel right anymore – my job.

But I am not panicked. I’m not doubled over my trash can throwing up.

I stand desk chair in hand, ready to throw it through any barrier that may try to stop me from achieving my dreams.

The post Surviving the Market Correction appeared first on Beth Tancredi, Author, Ghostwriter, Blogger.

In my sleep. Just hours after watching Geena Davis’s spy thriller, “The Long Kiss Goodnight.”

Imagine my surprise when I woke up in the morning to find my tiny cactus (the bomb) missing from its little ceramic pot.

Imagine my even bigger surprise when I opened the washing machine door only to find the spiny green succulent wrapped in a towel sitting inside – ya know, just in case it hadn’t been defused.

This is how my sleeping patterns went for years – so much so, that I worried that when I went off to college I would walk clear out of my dorm to God-knows-where.

When my boyfriend (then husband, then eventually ex-husband) first moved in with me, I prepared him for the worst, “I walk and talk in my sleep. You just kind of have to… talk me out of it.”

So, he wasn’t surprised the first time when he woke up to me sitting upright and slyly reaching for his toes at the end of the bed.

He was also not surprised when we awoke one morning to find a large painting carefully removed from our bedroom wall and sitting in a different part of the room.

Or when, in the middle of a website redesign for my job, I woke up laughing hysterically because (and I quote) “You can’t use wingdings as a font!”

I think at some point, he just started to sleep through it all – which was fine, because I learned how to talk myself out of it without any outside help.

If I was having a conversation on the phone, for example, I learned to say to the phantom voice on the other end, “I don’t think this is real. I think I’m dreaming,” and then I’d press the receiver (my hand) to my face for confirmation. (Interestingly, in phone call dreams, I still always had the courtesy to say goodbye and hang up the phone.)

Twenty-some years later, my sleep is far less active (but no more restful). My dreams are left to the daytime when I fantasize about what’s next for me as a writer.

I find myself regularly questioning whether this writing thing is really going to take off or whether it’s just a ridiculous dream.

I suppose at this point it doesn’t really matter though – as long as I don’t talk myself out of it.

The post Living the Dream appeared first on Beth Tancredi, Author, Ghostwriter, Blogger.

Perhaps it was the inspiration of the message pumping through the speakers.

Perhaps it was thousands of people singing and dancing along with the band.

Or perhaps, just perhaps, it was the memory of her teenage years – being at the same venue in practically the same spot on the lawn where she had sat so many times with her friends before.

It didn’t matter.

Whatever the reason, she let herself go.

For a few hours, she danced. She sang. She let her inhibitions, her burdens, her everything, go.

And she hoped upon hope that her son, standing beside her, took notice.

She hoped he could see a mother who wasn’t always so stressed. Who wasn’t always setting the rules. Who could let things go at least once in a while.

And notice, he did.

“Mom,” the boy said, “YOU danced!”

“I did,” she said.

“That was really embarrassing,” he added.

And that’s okay.

Because, embarrassing or not, he still got to see the woman (not the mom, not the businesswoman) for what she really is.

And one day, he will cherish that memory.

The post A Mother’s Dance appeared first on Beth Tancredi, Author, Ghostwriter, Blogger.

Sometime before you had even hit the age of eight, you looked at me wide-eyed and asked, “Mommy, when I’m older can I be a police officer [like his father] or a soldier [like his grandfathers before him]?”

I choked back the tears just thinking about every implication of those career options and replied, “I will support you no matter what career you choose, as long as you are kind, make an honest living and can support yourself by doing it.”

Today, my dear, as you told me for the one-hundredth time that you now want to be a professional video gamer and I rolled my eyes at the thought (again), I realized that I lied to you. I wasn’t supporting you “no matter what career you choose”. I was casting judgment on what seemed to me to be a silly way to make a living.

And I know I’m not the only one who’s done it to you. Just the other day, you told me how one of your teachers snickered when you did a presentation on what you want to do when you grow up. I’ll admit it, I silently nodded in agreement with her while you told the story.

Perhaps it was the sudden gut-punch of recognizing the pain lurking behind your eyes that no one understood – that no one was listening to you – that made me realize my mistake.

At that point, you were my mirror, son.

You were the mirror of every look, every tear, every doubting thought (from myself and others) that prevents me from abandoning a successful career to pursue my own passions.

How had I missed that before now?

I mean, I wrote an entire book about pursuing your passion… and just a few days ago, I gave a talk about how to bring your passion to life!

The hypocrisy!

But here’s the thing, son. When it comes to you, my job is to get you going down the right path to make smart decisions in life. So while I cannot say that I agree with your current choice for your future and I cannot promise that I won’t roll my eyes once in a while, I can promise you that from here on out, I will be more understanding and will arm you with the tools to make those smart and right decisions in life – no matter what career path you choose.

This means:

• You will continue to work hard for good grades in school
• You can and should practice your passion wholeheartedly, but you will not shirk your responsibilities in doing so and must still abide by all rules related to game-play time
• You will make your mark as  someone who is kind, honest and sportsmanlike on and off the field (no matter what field you choose)
• You will go out of your way to learn more about this career path and all the required steps to pursue it (and be successful at it) and then make your best effort
• You will understand and respect the possible impact of your choices on you, your family and your friends and take a step back when and if called upon to do so

If you can commit to all that, son, then I promise you we will work together to pursue your wonderful.

But just remember that one day, you’ll still need to support yourself.

Love,

Mom

The post To My Son As You Think About Your Future appeared first on Beth Tancredi, Author, Ghostwriter, Blogger.

Eight months into his sobriety, though, I was consumed with worry that he would slip up and drag us all back down the rabbit hole.

But what was more troubling for me than waiting for the other shoe to drop was the very blurry line that my role as a wife and mother had now crossed. I was so used to my old life… the life in which I was the caretaker of all, the emotional provider and the ever-present parent covering up some dark secrets. The life in which I made the decisions.

Now he was there.

He was always present with all of us, no matter what activity we were doing. He helped choose what we’d do, joined every activity with me and the kids, and always wanted to talk.

These were real conversations, not the slurred ones I was used to having. Not conversations that I had to remind him we’d already had the night before.

If I’m being honest, there were times that I secretly wanted to let him stay home and drink. Awful, right? I knew it and it killed me every time that went through my mind.

But I had to re-learn how to live with this man who had, for all intents and purposes, become an uninvolved stranger in my life.

Not only did I have to learn to share the bed again, I had to compromise on what television shows we watched. And I love Bravo, my escape from reality through reality TV.  I’d get out of the shower though, and he’d already chosen the programs he wanted to watch. He’d already said goodnight to the kids.

I wasn’t alone anymore, and I didn’t know what to do. What’s more, I had no idea who this person living with me even was.

After all those times I heard “Daddy, please stop drinking,” the kids were now jumping into his arms as soon as he walked through the door. They asked him to stay with them and listen to everything about their day. My heart filled with joy anytime I witnessed it.

But still, it broke me a little.

What about me? How do I support him? Am I supposed to just forget everything that he did all those years and simply move on?

Seeming to sense my uncertainty with our relationship, he surprised me with a long weekend away without the kids. I was excited and nervous about our getaway. After all, we hadn’t been away alone together since before the kids were born. We never even went on a honeymoon. And last year on our wedding anniversary, he went away with his brother for a weekend of binge drinking.

“Is this really happening?” I thought, “Does he really want to go away with me?”

It turns out, it was just what we needed. We dressed up and spoiled one another. We got to know each other again and talked about everything.

Everything except the elephant in the room, that is.

I had so many questions I wanted to ask about his sobriety. How are you feeling? Do you ever want to drink? Do you have any coping methods? Do you ever want to have a drink? Can I do anything to make this better?

My mind was spinning like the tilt-a-whirl at the carnival, jerking every which way with questions and comments.

But the biggest ones, perhaps, were this: Do you like me again? Do you remember what you did to me when you were drinking? Are you sorry for what you did?

I said nothing.

I held my tongue and took in every moment because we were enjoying one another again. We actually liked each other’s company.

I also thought about how different this trip would be if he was still drinking. We’d likely be at some dive bar where he would be talking up a storm to all the bargoers and I would be miserably waiting to go back the room, hoping upon hope that he wouldn’t embarrass us.

But in his sobriety, the worry of drinking removed the stress and kept it enjoyable, despite the fact that I missed my kids like crazy. And most importantly, we came to find that we liked each other again.

You might find it odd that I keep talking about our like for one another, rather than our love for one another. The truth is, we do love one another, but we have a long road ahead of us… to get to know each other again, respect each other again, and to move beyond the things we came to dislike about one another before his sobriety.

And even more, I need to be able to wake up without asking, “Is this the day that it all falls apart?”

Read more in this guest blogger series…

• (In)Dependence Day: Living With an Alcoholic
• The Shift from Living With to Existing With an Alcoholic
• Shhh! It’s a Secret!

The post Searching for Peace in Sobriety By Anonymous appeared first on Beth Tancredi, Author, Ghostwriter, Blogger.

And it was life-changing – teaching me lessons that were not just valuable behind the wheel, but in business as well.

“Hop in!” said Mary from the front passenger seat, arm draped over her personal steering wheel and her long Elvira-like fingernails tapping on the dashboard one by one.

I had heard stories about Mary. Stories that made me fear for my life.

“Ugh! Mary’s your driving instructor? She’ll just stick her arm through her steering wheel so you can’t turn yours!” cautioned one teen.

“She’ll slam on her brakes to see how you react!” lamented another.

But for whatever reason, this woman, who was clearly doing the Lord’s work by being a driving instructor in the first place, actually took a shine to me and only yelled when necessary.

Lesson 1: Starting work with a new client requires an open mind and a clean slate.

No tricks. No brake checks. Just a woman teaching a brooding teenager how to drive.

But Mary had one trick up her sleeve that even she didn’t know about.

And it happened during my first in-traffic driving experience. On a busy Street in Columbia, Maryland. During rush hour.

My foot was steady on the gas pedal. I used my indicators to signal my lane changes and ensured that I was clear before going. Easy-peasy.

But as I moved with the flow of traffic, the car lurched forward.

Lesson 2: Moving your business forward is not just about keeping your foot on the pedal, it’s about making sure you are keeping it fueled.

“One of her tricks?” I thought.

“What are you doing?” Mary sniped.

“I don’t know!” I quivered, tightening my fingers around the wheel.

The car lurched again. And again. And yet again.

Lesson 3: Don’t be so quick to dismiss the thoughts and words of those around you. You never know who holds key pieces of information that allow you to solve the problems at hand.

Mary was fuming. “Keep your foot steady on the pedal!”

“I am!” I yelled, holding back the tears.

“Ohhhh… noooo,” She finally said, glancing at the gas gauge. “We’re out of gas.”

Lesson 4: The old saying, “Poor planning on your part does not constitute an emergency on mine” is not entirely true. Sometimes poor planning impacts everyone you do business with.

Mary was no longer yelling at me, but the cars behind me directed their angry horn-blowing and hand gestures at the herky-jerky car that screamed, “Hi! I’m a student driver!”

“Put your hazard lights on!” Mary demanded of me.

Now, anyone who had a car in the 1980s will remember that the hazard lights were usually a button at the end of a rod off the steering column that had to be pressed to turn on. But I was so damn nervous, I had no idea where to even begin to find the switch.

Seeing my panic, Mary took matters into her own hands – err, nails – and reached her right hand across her chest inserting her nail right into that hole to turn the stupid lights on.

Lesson 5: Just because it looks good, doesn’t mean it’s always going to be good for business.

“Ugh,” Mary groaned, fingernail still impressing the button, “I’m stuck.”

Unwilling to sacrifice her acrylic glory, Mary kept her fingernail pressed into that button while I steered the slowly coasting car across a gap in oncoming traffic to get to a parking lot.

In a time before cell phones, I can’t tell you how we ended up getting help. I can’t tell you how we got gas or how much later I ended up getting home.

All I can tell you is that I lived through it.

I still laugh about it to this day.

And most importantly, I learned from it.

The post 5 Business Lessons From Behind the Wheel appeared first on Beth Tancredi, Author, Ghostwriter, Blogger.