Tag: coach

Permission

Kristine Binder

“Your hair is gorgeous! Who does your hair? Is she close by?”
That’s how the conversation started in the gym locker room as I was pulling my hair into a ponytail before my workout. I was wearing the same sweatshirt all day—the one with “You are loved” written across the back. And maybe that message was quiet, unspoken permission. Permission to be kind. Permission to notice. Permission to start a conversation.
What followed was one of those easy, ordinary exchanges—hair, products, color, cuts, all the things women talk about when we’re standing in front of mirrors together. We laughed, chatted for a few minutes, and then went our separate ways to get our workouts in.
About an hour later, I walked into the sauna. And there she was again. When one of the other women left it, was just the two of us…..
She then asked how my workout went, and just like that, we picked up where we left off. And then, without warning, her voice cracked. Today was her birthday. A big one. Fifty. And she had no one to celebrate with other than her parents. The tears came quickly, the kind that have been waiting for permission to fall.
So I listened.
She talked about feeling behind, about what she thought her life “should” look like by now, about all those inner comparisons that show up on milestone birthdays. And then she said something that stopped me in my tracks—that she felt I was meant to walk into that locker room that today so she wouldn’t feel so alone on her birthday.
When it was my turn to speak, I gently reframed some of the things she was saying about herself—offering a different lens, one rooted in compassion instead of judgment. At one point she smiled and said, “I never thought about it that way.” And that moment mattered…..to both of us.
Because here’s the thing: people don’t always need answers or advice. What they need is to feel seen. To feel heard. To feel like they matter.
I don’t believe in coincidences. I believe in God-incidences. Moments where paths cross on purpose, even when we don’t realize it at first. And today felt like one of those moments—one quiet reminder that showing up, listening, and letting someone know they matter can make a bigger difference than we’ll ever realize. Life is funny like that.

Aide

Kristine Binder

Four years ago today I ran what would be my last marathon. I did not know that at the time but I had an idea….I was tired. Training is difficult, time consuming and takes a toll on the body.
I just could not sit on the sidelines. The FOMO was real and I needed to be out there on Marathon day….so what is a girl to do? VOLUNTEER!
Two years ago my friend Khit asked for help with her aide station and jumped at the chance. I was put in charge of Gatotrade. Now, to some that would not be a big deal, but to me it was huge. I was in change of a battalion of volunteers that mix, pour and serve Gatorade to runners. Mixing it correctly is important…too weak and runners do not get enough nourishment. Too strong and runners get sick. Prepping table to serve it all is a big deal as well. Layers of cups are filled and often blow off the tables.
The day is long and starts early. I was up and ready to go by 4:30am, finishing about 12:30/1pm. And yes….wearing the tutu!
In between all that time, we are serving and cheering runners. Our aide station is about mile 12. Today it was unusually busy, even though the number of runners was lower than in past years. Why? Medical tent. Today was hot and humid. The conditions went from yellow to red as the day progressed and that progression was evident in the faces and bodies of runners.
Spotting hurting runners and keeping spectators off the course as well as out of the medical area was a full time job today. I mean….people do not like to be told no and feel a bit entitled sometimes. I was called a bitch 39 times. I was shooting for an even 40 but….it is a dream deferred! Like the Cub fan I am…there is always next year!
I was cheering runners all morning. The elite runners are a site to behold but the wheelchair athletes, endurance athletes, and those with special needs? Those folks are my inspiration!
“You got this!”
“Today is your Day!”
“You are going to finish and get a medal today!”
“You look so strong and amazing!”
I shouted and high fived runners as they passed for hours. Eventually a spectator called me over to the side. She looked at her young son and said, “tell her what you just said…” The teacher in my thinks she is trying to teach a lesson…..and yes, she was.
“I said that you are really inspirational. If I were running this, you would make me feel so good.”
I stood, stunned for a minute and replied, “These runners are MY inspiration. I know what is takes to train for and run a marathon. It is not easy and someday WHEN you run the marathon, I will be right her to cheer you on!”
He smiled and so did I….and then I was back to cheering on the runners.
I saw 2 of my former students running (one of which cheered for me once before!). I saw my friend, the running priest! I saw so many friends who knew just where I would be. The two most important, my BRF (best running friend) and another running buddy of ours gave me tight long sweaty hugs that I will never forget. The transfer of energy was electric!
As the end drew near, there were still runners on the course….walking now but determined to finish. We started to break things down and clean up and the crowds thinned. I took a moment, standing in the middle of the street and took it all in…all that had been accomplished by not only the runners, but the volunteers as well.
The Chicago Marathon only happens because so many people work so hard in tandem with others to make it all possible. It is no small operation.
Once everything was picked up and packed up, it was time to say goodbye and head home. Another year in the books. My heart is so full.
Peace
#tutulady
#forwardisapace

Sparkle

Kristine Binder

When you least expect it, life surprises you!
I enjoy being creative and sharing that creativity with others.
I love teaching and coaching others.
So when an opportunity to combine so many of the things that fill me up,
I jumped right in …..
which lead to the creation of Sparkle Social Media!
Women ‘of a certain age’ run businesses that need to be relevant and present on social media. Younger social media managers often do not speak to the needs or wants of this group of women. Enter Sparkle Social Media!
Sparkle Social Media was created to offer coaching on optimizing social media profiles, systems to streamline content creation/posting, as well as full service social media management. 
I help business owners at all levels maximize engagement on various social media platforms.
Want more information on or services and plans?
Click the CONTACT tab at the top of the page and let’s connect!

Panic

Kristine Binder

Thursday, September 8, 2016

I guess I fell asleep at some point because I woke up alone in my bed. It was not the first time nor would it be the last.
I got ready for work. The plan was to push everything out of my head and get through the day.
I got the my son up and ready. We were in the kitchen when my wasband came in. I told my wasband that we needed to talk. He told me there was nothing to talk about. I can not remember what he said next….but it was something that raised the eyebrow of my son. My son turned and, for the first time I had ever seen, stood up to his father.
“Leave Mom alone! What the heck is wrong with you? Why can’t you be nice to her?”
“Son….remember who you are speaking to and watch your mouth….” and my wasband left the kitchen.
My son and I went to school without saying another word.
I did the best I could to get through the day but late in the afternoon, while teaching my class, I felt sick….like never before. I have panic attacks and anxiety. I have been in treatment for these issues as these episodes have had very dire consequences. I know what to expect. I have ‘coping skills’ and  meds to help. But this was different…..
I sent a student to get my partner teacher. My partner teacher and I had worked together for 15 years at that point. We KNEW each other. I remember I must have looked bad because the look on her face was one I had never seen before. She sent me into the hall as I tried to get my breath. She walked my students out of the room to their fine arts class and then ….
I melted down. I could not breathe. It was the panic attack to end all panic attacks. I was breathing into a paper bag and she was trying desperately to calm me down. She went to call 911 and I begged her not to……I finally regained control …..over an hour later.
She covered for me the whole time. Not only did I feel like a weak woman but I felt like a failure as a teacher. I needed to get it together.
I pulled myself together as much as possible and got through the reminder of the day. I didn’t want to go home. I didn’t want to go home that day or any day after that….but home was where my kids were and I knew I had to take care them. So I went home……
Here’s to soaring again….

D-Day

Kristine Binder


Monday, September 5, 2016

D Day…a day that will live in infamy….
Our D Day came on a Monday afternoon. I had come home from work, gotten ready to go for a run and a friend called. As I listened to her….I felt like I had been punched in the gut.
I got off the phone and went upstairs. I entered our bedroom and closed the door. My wasband was napping prior to going to work. I thought the house was empty and we were alone but I closed the door anyway.
I confronted him about what I knew. I told him that he could not sleep with another woman and remain married to me. Well…that sounds pretty, doesn’t it? The truth is I said, “Seriously? You think you can Fuck someone else and get away with it? You think you can fuck someone else and still sleep in the same bed with me?”
The wasband rolled over and calmly said, “I will Fuck whoever I want and there is nothing you can do about it….now get the fuck out of the room. I have to get ready for work soon.” and he rolled back over.
I went down to the kitchen….stunned. About 45 minutes later, one of my teen daughters came into the room, put her arms on me and said, ” I know everything, mom.”
“How? What are you talking about?” as I played dumb.
“My sister was outside the door and heard everything……she messaged all us girls.”
I have 4 daughters. The oldest was a gift. She is my step daughter but neither one of us like that term that term and so she is my bonus daughter. All 4 girls are so different but sisters in every sense. I also have a son. He is my baby. My “happy accident” and he knows it. I have said from the day he was conceived that he had a special purpose….every day I am reminded of how special he is to me.  But I digress…..
So now my girls knew…..oh no…..my goal now was to keep this from my son….he was too young to understand.
I tried to steer clear of the wasband the rest of the afternoon and let him leave for work.
The rest of the night was a blur…..
I remember sitting on the couch waiting for him to come home. When he arrived home in the early morning hours of the next day, I tried to talk to him. Actually I didn’t talk…I cried, I begged, I pleaded, I debased myself to the point of embarrassment. He was stoic and seemed even more angry. He “shushed’ me more than once as I cried but it was not the sweet, caring “There, There, sweetie….” kind of shush. It was “Shut the fuck up. The kids will hear you. Just shut up….” He pushed past me into the guest room where I had moved his things….phone charger, sleep machine, etc. At that point, his rage came to the surface….and I cowered. He looked at the bed and realized I had not put fresh sheets on the bed nor had I swept up around and under the bed……He called me lazy and snarled “You should have taken care of this crap….what the fuck were you thinking…”
I was scared and cowered as he slammed the door.
He…yes…the man in charge….had decided the conversation was over for the night. I retreated to my room and locked the door. I didn’t sleep that night (or many other nights) but that is another story for another day.
Thinking back on it now….It was like an out of body experience….the days and weeks that followed were all like that. I asked him to tell me it was not true….I asked him to tell me he loved me and it was just a mistake. I wanted it to be like the movies….I wanted him to come home begging for forgiveness and for me to take him back. Boy, nothing could have been further from the truth.
Looking back on it now? I am so glad I finally took a stand. It’s not easy or fun now but it is so worth it. I am worth better.
Here’s to soaring again…..