My Gutsy Story Archives - Page 43 of 46 - Sonia Marsh

“My Gutsy Story” by Dodie Cross

January 9, 2012 by Sonia Marsh

Snorkeling the Great Barrier Reef

In the 60s, I reluctantly signed up for classes on SCUBA diving. My husband was excited; he thought it would be great for the two of us to dive together. What I didn’t bring up to him, and what had been a deep, dark secret for years, was my fear of sharks and the big deep—the ocean! I’d always been the first to run into the oncoming waves, knowing I’d go no deeper than my midriff, but actually acting as though I’d go out as far as anyone else if need be. I could outswim anyone in a pool, as long as I could see the bottom. Lakes and rivers held some worry for me, but somehow I felt a shark couldn’t make it in those waters. Maybe it’s the fact I can’t see what’s down there around my legs, ready to carry me off to the deep, and then include me in their digestive juices.

But, I shouldered on, joining him in the classes. I was the only female in a group of eight men; two of whom I might add quit when the going got tough. I actually made it all the way to certification—that is until the diving instructor took us out to be certified. We had to snorkel out to the kelp beds, put in our regulator and dive to 50 feet to be certified.

It was a violently stormy day as we made our way to Black’s Beach on the California Coast. The breakers were over ten feet. I donned my suit with shaky hands, then my footies and gloves. Someone, not sure who, helped me on with my weight belt, and off we went. As I was snorkeling out with my husband in front of me, I had the distinct feeling that I was sinking. It was hard to keep afloat. I struggled so hard I began to hyperventilate. Was the fear of the darkness below? Where a shark might be in waiting, licking his chops, causing this hyperventilation? I couldn’t let this happen. I removed my snorkel and yelled to my husband: “I’m sinking! Help me!” The instructor, swimming nearby took one look at me and immediately reached out and flipped open my weight belt. As the belt sank I began to return to the surface. Obviously, someone had given me a weight belt meant for a two hundred pound wrestler. By then I was so exhausted the instructor sent me back to shore. I half crawled up the shoreline, dragging myself over the sea urchins as they tore my booties, gloves and the skin beneath. At the sight of blood I panicked. Got to get out before a shark gets my scent, I thought, as I groped in the sand for handholds to pull me up and out. Sadly, for my husband, that was the end of my diving career.

That was over fifty years ago, and I knew I would never go back into the deep. That is until two weeks ago when a friend and I visited Australia. I reluctantly signed up for a snorkeling outing on the Great Barrier Reef. Now, I knew I wouldn’t do it, but my girlfriend was so excited about the tour, I had to pretend I was excited as well. I figured I’d go along with the farce just long enough to keep her happy. But when it came time to don the gear, I’d amazingly get a headache and have to decline. However, when the instructor began to hand out the masks and snorkels, I had an epiphany: It’s time to quell your fears. You’re not a young woman any longer, and why take a dirt nap without conquering this fear.

I asked the instructor about the Great Whites. Had any been seen in these waters or nearby? “Not for years,” he said, “no problem, mate!” So I suited up. My heart beating so hard I feared it would show through my bra top. I valiantly stepped off the swim board and jumped in. The water was glorious, so clear you could see for miles. I did some rather strange rotating, though, to make sure nothing could sneak up behind me. The longer we were floating out there, the more brave I became. “It’s okay, I said as a mantra: You’ve finally conquered your worst fear.

Then something brushed my leg. Something big! Omygod! I whipped my head around, terrified that I might see a huge shark, and there, staring me right in the mask was the most beautiful fish I’d ever seen. It was over three feet long, and the most vivid turquoise blue. Its lips were the size of tractor tires and it was smiling at me. Our dive instructor told us that this fish always visits the groups in the water, and has been doing this for quite some time.

After my heart quit doing the Macarena, I meekly reached out to pet this beautiful fish. You see, I thought, all those fears all those years, for nothing.

This morning as I worked on my computer and half-listened to the TV news, the anchor interrupted with: “We have breaking news” which normally means a car chase, a stock market plunge or surge, so I paid scant attention. That is until I heard: “A Great White Shark has just killed a man off the Australian coast.

So much for conquering your fears!

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Dodie Cross Bio

About the author: Dodie Cross is a freelance writer who has received numerous awards for her writing and poetry, among them the prestigious Southern California Writer’s Conference First Place Award for “Best Nonfiction,” as well as First Place in their inaugural Poetry Award. She has accrued first and second place prizes in her published articles. Dodie has traveled the world, writing about her life in foreign countries such as Iran and Thailand, as well as American locales such as New Orleans, Orange County, California.

Check out Dodie’s website where you will find her next book: A Broad Abroad in Iran: One Strappy-Sandaled Foot Ahead of the Mullahs: An Expat’s Life in Iran Before and During the Revolution.

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Thanks Dodie for sharing how you overcame your fear of scuba diving and snorkeling, and just jumped back in. To find out more about Dodie Cross and her humorous writing, please check out her blog: A Broad Abroad. Please share your comments or questions with Dodie who will be over to respond to them.

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Want to share your own “My Gutsy Story”?

To submit your, “My Gutsy Story” please go to the “My Gutsy Story” contest page. (VIDEO) and Submission guidelines here. You will also find a list of our wonderful sponsors and prizes.

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VOTE FOR YOUR FAVORITE DECEMBER “MY GUTSY STORY”

Read their stories here. Winner and the prize they selected will be announced on January 12th.

“My Gutsy Story” by Lois Joy Hofmann

January 2, 2012 by Sonia Marsh

Don’t be afraid to go out where the adventure begins!

Lois Joy Hofmann

“Life is either a daring adventure, or nothing at all.” Helen Keller

During the 1980s while living in Minnesota, I decided that I wanted to plan my life rather than being thrown about by external events. I had always wanted to retire in San Diego. Why not move there now, avoid the harsh Minnesota winters, and find my soul mate? My business partner lived in Arizona, so he agreed with the move. I began to set up clients in San Diego.

When you set out your goals, be prepared for them to be fulfilled in ways that will surprise you! There are no accidents! You set the mission and objectives, with God’s help, and the strategy will take care of itself as events unfold to propel you toward those goals.

One Sunday, during one of my trips to San Diego, I hired a sailboat captain to take a client out for a day. During a horrible accident, I was thrown against the lifelines; my liver almost split in two. I was rushed into surgery. An internal medicine specialist, on call that night, saved my life. He warned me, however, that my recovery would take two years. He advised me to resign my clients and quit flying all over the country. “You’ll never be in that venture capital business again. Maybe an outdoor job, like being a mail carrier, will give you the fresh air and exercise you’ll need!”

I sold my Minnesota home, resigned my clients there, and moved to San Diego to recover. I hiked the trails and worked out in the gym, chocking up four hours per day of aerobic exercise. That cut my estimated recovery time in half. Meanwhile, I researched the burgeoning biotechnology market. During that process, I met Dr. Günter Hofmann, a physicist and inventor. The rest is history.

I joined Günter’s company, which had been operating out of three townhouses and two garages. I changed the direction of the company from making and selling laboratory research instruments to developing drug and gene delivery systems. Then we raised many rounds of venture capital, finally taking the company public. All went well; the company grew to over one hundred employees and another hundred associates around the world. I had fulfilled one of my life goals, that of becoming the CEO of a publicly held company. We had J & J as a pharmaceutical partner. Clinical trials were looking good. Patients were being helped.

Then another setback occurred. Günter and I were ousted from the very company he had founded in a traumatic coup. We were devastated. Of course, we contacted our attorneys. Our choice, in the end, was to fight or flee. Many advised us to duke it out.

Our decision was radical and unexpected. We decided to sail around the world! Thus began an eight-year odyssey to assuage our anger and hurt, and to fulfill a far different dream. It would be a better life—one in which we would be truly independent and self-sufficient, answering to no one. We would be back in control of our own destiny. We were open to change. We were ready for new beginnings.

We learned many lessons during those eight years of sailing. Our Maiden Voyage, the topic of my first book, was all about control. We were forced by the wind and weather to change schedules and to delay crew. Even though Pacific Bliss was a new boat, equipment broke down. And we faced a Force 10 storm off the pirate coast of Colombia. Force 12 is a hurricane. A 43-foot catamaran cannot survive that! After that voyage, we realized that there is a certain peace in being out of control. It reminds one of how much there is to lose, and how fast one can lose it.

Lois on board Pacific Bliss in the Marquesas Islands

I am a different person now. I have a certain calmness underneath my skin that I didn’t have before. My life has all been worth it. I have no regrets.

Maybe you think it’s too late to pursue your passion, to stretch yourself to that place where adventure begins. Life went on. Age just crept up on you. And somewhere along the way, you lost the plot. Well, I have news for you. Günter retired at 65, the year we ordered our Catana catamaran to be built. I was 58. Günter turned 70 on the Passage from Bali to Singapore, with two years of our circumnavigation yet to come! You’re never too old to live your dream! I encourage you to cast off those dock lines, to pursue your passion, and to live your dream, whatever that may be. To do that, you will need to overcome your fear of the unknown.

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Lois Joy Hofmann

Lois Joy Hofmann retired after a 35-year entrepreneurial and management career. Then she completed her circumnavigation with her husband, Gunter. Intrepid adventurers, the couple now embarks on more conventional travel with the goal of understanding countries and cultures that they omitted the first time around. When not traveling, Lois resides in San Diego, California, where she enjoys writing, speaking and photography. She launched her first book in the nautical trilogy “In Search of Adventure and Moments of Bliss: Maiden Voyage” in March, 2011. The book won first place in the San Diego Book Awards, travel category. Lois is currently writing the second book in the series, to be called “Sailing the South Pacific.” Lois also serves on the Board of Directors of UPLIFT a faith-based organization working to improve the well being and quality of life of San Diego’s inner city population. Learn more about Lois on her website and subscribe to her blogs.

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Thank you Lois for sharing your amazing story of courage and being Gutsy in life, regardless of age, as you pointed out. Please leave your questions and comments for Lois in the comments section below, and she will be over to respond. Also visit her website for more photos and to learn more about her book.

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Do you have a “My Gutsy Story”?

To submit your own, “My Gutsy Story” you can find all the information, and our sponsors on the “My Gutsy Story” contest page. (NEW VIDEO) Submission guidelines here.

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PLEASE VOTE FOR YOUR FAVORITE DECEMBER “MY GUTSY STORY”

Read their stories here. Winner and the prize they selected will be announced on January 12th.

Vote for Your Favorite December 2011 “My Gutsy Story”

January 1, 2012 by Sonia Marsh

From January 1st until January 11th midnight, PST, you can vote for your favorite December 2011, “My Gutsy Story.”

To VOTE, please go to the poll on the sidebar of any of the 4 “My Gutsy Story,” submissions, (not on the homepage.)

Here are the 4 stories. Only ONE vote per person.

The winner will be announced on January 12th, 2012.

Good Luck to all of you. Your stories are amazing and inspiring.

Have a Happy and Gutsy New Year

“My Gutsy Story” by Ian Miller

December 26, 2011 by Sonia Marsh

The last day

For summer vacation, some people go to the beach, some go to touristy places, but in 1968, I elected to take my little near-clapped-out Ford Anglia behind the Iron Curtain. Early in the morning of August 23, 1968, the day my Czech visa would expire, I left Praha and headed south. The day matched my mood: sombre and deflated. The heads were down; the protests were over. I had a small Czech flag tied to the aerial of my Anglia, and where before this had given me quite amazing support from the Czech people, now it was ignored by the very few people who were venturing out.

I had memories that would last forever: while driving at high speed in the dark, narrowly avoiding colliding with a tank parked in the middle of the road with camouflage netting; entering a Russian military base from the rear, which was unguarded because the road behind had been deemed impassable, then driving through, flag still flying; heading a procession of tanks into Praha and forcing them into continual graunching gear changes while hundreds of thousands cheered, and even threw flowers; the rattle of machine guns; people hugging the walls while I walked unconcerned (the noise was clearly in another street, and I favoured the gutter if necessary); a marriage where bride and groom emerged, looked around and burst into tears; protestors marching into Wenceslas Square to be confronted by a yellow line painted across the stones and about a hundred men with submachine guns on the other side; me leaving and shortly after, the rattle, the screams, the ambulances; talking to a Major on Charles Bridge while the soldiers below took off boots and I noticed they had rags wrapped around their feet rather than socks; the Major wanted to know why the people were removing the food. Then there was that which cheered the Czechs and annoyed the Russians more than anything else. One town only refused to protest and meekly did everything ordered by the Russians: Lidice.

Finally, a night in an apartment with the Heitlegnerovs (I apologize for the spelling if it is wrong.) The father was a Jew, who had spent the war in the forest resisting Hitler, he had helped organize the Communists come to power, then he was back into the forest in a hut with a dirt floor and no heating because he was a Jew. With Dubcek, he got this neat apartment, and now he feared, back to the forest. I was given one task in return for the bed: he had a daughter on holiday in England and I was to take her best belongings and carry the message that she should stay there.

About twenty minutes short of the border on the road to Linz I picked up two Czech hitchhikers, who were carrying a petition with about 250,000 signatures that they wanted sent to the UN. Would I smuggle them and it out? My problem was, I was involved. I had stopped knowing they wanted to get to the border, so I could hardly just up and leave them. There was no way I could conceal them, but I thought I could manage the petition, so I agreed to let them off 100 meters short of the border. I would wait on the other side for so long, assuming I got through. Then the decision: what to do with the flag? The guards were Czech, so I left the flag and hoped it would work. I wrapped the petition in a large plastic bag and put it in the bottom of a large box that I was using for storing waste.

At the border, the guards searched, and when they got to the rubbish box, they took out the rather dried rye bread I had not eaten, then over-ripe fruit, then smelly empty tins, and they asked me why was I carrying these? As I pointed out, there are no public rubbish receptacles behind the Iron Curtain, or if there were, I never found them, and I did not want to dump rubbish. They accepted that, and I was half through. All I had to do then was to enter Austria.

Then I saw the two triumphant Czech faces and a border guard who knew. I can still almost scream. They thought the Austrian authorities would support the Czechs: how stupid!

Those days in Czechoslovakia were days I shall never forget. It almost certainly strengthened my individualistic tendencies, and it certainly diluted my desire to be with a group of tourists. Now I have taken up writing fiction, there are perhaps three influences over all else. Big events, violence, etc tend to be very sudden, except to those planning them. The second is that groups do not necessarily behave the same as individuals, and that is an issue that literature tends to steer clear of. The third is that I want to explore why some people want power over others, how they get it, and why others let them have it. This makes my writing somewhat different from others.

Alenka received her belongings, stayed in England for about 6 months, then voluntarily returned home. I pray she lives long and has prospered.

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IAN MILLER

I am a semiretired independent research scientist (chemistry) who has taken up writing fiction. Besides a strong interest in scientific theory and work on seaweed polysaccharides, including the development of skin-care products, I have been working on and off on biofuels and recycling for most of my career. The intermittent nature of this has been due to the corresponding interest, or lack thereof, in the provision of funding. This habit of governments to ignore problems that do not have imminent consequences has influenced my fictional writing, and I am intending to self-publish a series of futuristic thrillers. I am married and live on the Western Hills of Lower Hutt, New Zealand, and the photo shows us with our front yard in the background.

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Thanks Ian for sharing your Gutsy adventure back in the 60’s. As you mentioned, those days in Czechoslovakia influenced you and your writing. We look forward to reading your future novels. Please check out Ian Miller’s website, and join him on Facebook.

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Our second poll starts January 2nd-January 11th to vote for your favorite “My Gutsy Story” of the month.

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Do you have a “My Gutsy Story”?

To submit your own, “My Gutsy Story” you can find all the information, and our 8 Sponsors (including two new ones) on the “My Gutsy Story” contest page. (NEW VIDEO) Submission guidelines here.

Please leave your comments and questions for Ian Miller below and please share his story.

“My Gutsy Story” by Cheryl Stahle

December 19, 2011 by Sonia Marsh

Just Another Religious Festival

“OK”. And with that one word, my 15 year marriage ended. We had both given up so there were no fights or last hurrahs to save our union. I wanted our son. Done. He wanted his pension. OK. We actually negotiated the division of property at Starbucks over lattes. Dutch treat!

It doesn’t get any better than that for a friendly divorce.

However, I had spent the previous 15 years as an ice hockey mom and school teacher for at-risk teens. For this 70s throwback of peace, love, rock and roll, violence didn’t fit with my belief system; however, circumstances dropped it into my lap daily both at home and at school. Along the way I disappeared while serving the needs of everyone else. I couldn’t even remember what I enjoyed doing and I didn’t know where to start in creating Cheryl Version 2.0, middle aged edition.

Slowly I experienced rebirth, dabbled in online dating (just don’t!), raised an amazing son and developed deep interests in yoga, reading and writing. My regular haunts included Starbucks, yoga studios and bookstores. Not exactly the life of a thrill-seeker but joy appeared in subtle ways through the perfect backbend or a well written novel devoured over a latte and cookie. I was restless though. After so many years living in ice rinks and never taking a vacation I had to blow off some steam and this lovely life I had created did not include adventure.

Three weeks. That became my gift of time and for once in my adult life, I had freedom. Throw caution to the wind, this was a childless adventure. My friends thought I’d head to the shore with a stack of books when I shared the news of a getaway. Not this time.

The Festival of San Fermin! That’s where I chose to go so I planned a vacation around that religious holiday. Traveling to the major cities of Spain introduced me to centuries old neighborhoods, gothic cathedrals, and fabulous museums. I soaked it all in while spending siesta time sitting in plazas drinking cava. Three weeks. Time for me. And for kicks, I went alone and did not activate international cell phone service. No one to tell me when to get up, what to eat for dinner, or how to spend the days.

I enjoyed 2 glorious weeks traveling throughout Spain with my camera in hand. I wandered through street markets, toured museums and palaces and chose to view only masterpieces at the Prado. I even crashed a wedding reception. Why not? No one really knew what I was doing but me. I enjoyed freedom for the first time.

Did I mention that the Festival of San Fermin is more commonly called the Running of the Bulls in Pamplona? I didn’t tell too many people from home either. I certainly didn’t tell my mother what adventure awaited me. My guess was that wouldn’t go over too well.

Cheryl Stahle in Pamplona and the bulls — The bulls in Pamplona

A train ride later, I entered the tiny village of Pamplona. The annual kickoff food fight had fortunately already ended by the time I settled into my hotel but the partying had just begun. I began to realize that my standard glass of wine was not going to be the norm for the next few days.

Mardi Gras looked tame compared to Pamplona during the festival. Dressed in obligatory whites with red sash and scarf, I elbowed my way through the crowds to enter the streets. Once there, African conga drums played, strangers pulled me into their arms to dance in the street and mimes entertained all. Music poured forth from stores and vendors filled the streets selling t-shirts and flags. The streets provided sensory overload but once I got into a rhythm, the crowds became invisible. Callemucho . The drink of San Fermin poured freely usually by flask or 2 gallon jug.

Cheryl Stahle in Pamplona — Cheryl Stahl in Pamplona

After a night of partying and no sleep, the actual festival began. Fueled with over a decade of pent up energy, I chanted “let ‘em loose” in my mind. Catch me if you can. But I’m not quite as foolhardy as it appears.

First, most of the people running had imbibed for at least 24 hours. I chose to toss back just one flask of Callemucho (cheap wine and soda). Juts for courage I thought but my balance remained rock solid. Next, a plan. I wasn’t about to run on a cobblestone street the width of a standard American alley full of drunks without knowing the lay of the land. I watched the first day, safely ensconced on a balcony two stories above bull level.

Day 2 however I joined the crowd in the street. My earlier reconnaissance showed that the end of the run was safer as there were fewer people (still packed shoulder to shoulder), a bit more space on the street and a fence to leap over should the need arise. So that’s where I planned the start of my run.

I heard the shot indicating that the bulls had left their pens, waited my 17 seconds for them to arrive, and then hit the street. There they were, 10 agitated, magnificent 2000 pound beasts and me soaking wet at 115 pounds. This sister ran fast, smelled their musky odor as they swept by and breathed a sigh of relief as I choked on their dust when they roared past. My 2 seconds of glory. Not trampled, not hurt and only a slight glow of perspiration on my brow. I ran with the bulls. Feel my power now people!

This single mom can do anything these days. When life gets tough or when I’m feeling a bit beaten up, I don my red sash from Pamplona, look at the photos I took of the bulls on my desk and smile. I found my inner courage again. I’m getting to know myself too. Life’s not so bad as Version 2.0.

Cheryl Stahle, memoirist, author and founder ofYour Best Writing Group (www.yourbestwritinggroup.com) lives in Doylestown, PA with her son. Cheryl consults with aspiring authors to guide them in telling their life stories. She has a special interest in working with adoptive families as an adoptive parent herself.

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Thank you Cheryl for giving women the courage to do something so unique and spectacular for themselves. I am a firm believer that when you get out of your comfort zone, you get that special feeling that you can accomplish anything in your life and you are a perfect example of this.

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Do you have a “My Gutsy Story”?

To submit your own, “My Gutsy Story” you can find all the information, and our sponsors on the “My Gutsy Story” contest page. (NEW VIDEO) Submission guidelines here.

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Jill Fales, winner of our first “My Gutsy Story” contest, picked the following prize:

Spectrum Specialties and Awards just joined on 11/2/11 with a wonderful prize: 1000 14pt business cards with UV coating, full color process, & double sided print. I am so thrilled as I know they do quality work.

Rhonda Hayes, came in second. Since she was the first to submit her story and since this was the first contest, she also won a prize and selected a chapter critique from Angela Ackerman..

Angela Ackerman offered two choices: a first chapter critique or a blog consultation offering her expertise on your blog layout, content, etc and offer advice on tweaking it to improve, draw in visitors, increase visibility, etc. Winner can choose which would benefit them more. Angela and Becca have put together the most helpful blog for writers called The Bookshelf Muse.Check out their emotional thesaurus, weather thesaurus and so much more to help writers.
Angela Ackerman

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Voting for your favorite December “My Gutsy Story” starts on January 1st-January 11th. The December winner will be announced on Thursday January 12th.

Please leave your comments for Cheryl below.