100 Days, 500 Handstands, and What I Remembered Along the Way

On June 1, I decided I was going to do five handstands a day for 100 days.

There wasn't a particularly grand plan behind it.

I wanted my handstands back.

I wanted a challenge.

And apparently, at almost 50, I thought spending a portion of every day upside down seemed like a perfectly reasonable thing to do.

So I started.

Five handstands a day.

For 100 days.

That's 500 handstands.

Some were good.

Some were decidedly not good.

Some happened first thing in the morning. Some happened at the gym. Some happened while traveling. And more than a few happened at the end of a very long day when I suddenly remembered:

Oh crap. I still have to do my handstands.

But I did them.

Every single day.

And somewhere around the middle of those 100 days, something interesting happened.

My handstands got better.

Not dramatically. There wasn't one magical day when suddenly I could hold a perfect handstand and angels sang from the rafters of the gym.

They just got a little better.

My line got better.

My balance got better.

I got stronger.

I got more comfortable being uncomfortable.

Five at a time.

Which is funny, because I've spent most of my adult life teaching children exactly how this works.

At the gym, we don't tell a child who is struggling with a skill to simply get better.

We give them something small.

Push taller through your shoulders.

Keep your eyes here.

Try to hold it one second longer.

Do five.

Then come back tomorrow and do five more.

We break enormous things into very small things because that's how children learn that something difficult can eventually become something they can do.

Somehow, as adults, we forget to give ourselves the same grace.

We make enormous goals.

Get stronger.

Grow the business.

Get organized.

Be healthier.

Finish the project.

Be better.

And then we wonder why those goals feel so heavy.

Five handstands never felt particularly heavy.

Even on the days I didn't want to do them, I could do five.

And then I could do five again tomorrow.

One hundred days later, those tiny efforts had become 500 handstands.

But I think something else happened during those 100 days too.

My gymnasts were watching.

They asked what day I was on.

They saw me take videos.

They saw the good handstands and the ugly ones.

They saw their coach still practicing something she has been doing for most of her life.

And, importantly, they saw me not always get it right.

That's something I hope they remember.

Coaches aren't standing on the other side of hard things.

We're still doing hard things too.

We're still learning.

Still getting frustrated.

Still falling.

Still trying again.

So when it came time to do handstand number 500, I knew exactly how I wanted to finish.

Not alone.

I wanted my gymnasts with me.

And there we were — a gym full of kids and one almost-50-year-old coach, upside down together.

It wasn't a perfect handstand.

It didn't need to be.

Because after 100 days, I don't think this was ever really about the handstand.

It was about showing up.

It was about making the goal small enough that I could keep a promise to myself.

It was about discovering what can happen when you do one little thing, consistently, for a long time.

And maybe most importantly, it reminded me that the things I have spent decades teaching children on the gym floor still apply to me.

Try the thing.

Fall down.

Make one small correction.

Try it again.

Come back tomorrow.

That's how we learn gymnastics.

Turns out, it might also be how we become.

100 days.

500 handstands.

And one final handstand with my kids beside me.

I can't think of a better way to have finished.

Be More. 🐝

— Miss Jen