Upon recognizing I was a closet sexist the next challenge was meeting my coach without her realizing this. Upon our introduction in a muggy clubhouse I refused to acknowledge the fact that she was of similar age and with a nice smile, so I thrust my hand out and preceded to try and rip her arm off. My firm handshake would surely show her that a female coach doesn’t bother me. After the usual stereotypical British awkward introduction (talking about the weather etc) she sat me down and asked what my goals were next season, what I want from her as a coach and what she expects from me as an athlete. I’d never done such a thing, it was usually ‘just shut up and run’. I was impressed, was this the feminine touch? A more organized, thought out approach? I got a lot from the meeting, it challenged me it also showed me I was limiting myself mentally with my times and what I could achieve. Having clear written goals was a first for me and the thought of then building a plan to achieve those goals was a buzz. Before wrapping up our introduction, my old coach, with a cheeky grin, swaggers on in the clubhouse, I gave him the same expression back with a gentle nod of acknowledgment. With all the stick he gave me for leaving him for a ‘woman’ as he put it, in that moment I realized I may have just made my best decision yet.