“Only when we are brave enough to explore the darkness will we discover the infinite power of our light.” ~Brené Brown
For weeks now my thoughts keep coming back to one thought. Joy and sadness belong together. These versions of extremes are actually the same. They can’t exist without each other. It’s been on repeat in my thoughts and my observations.
So I’ve observed. I’ve looked for these opposing forces in every corner of my world. Where is there sadness? Look beyond it. Joy is hiding. Where is there joy? Look further. Sadness exists too. These two existences are dancing around me.
It’s a simple thought, a thought I would have always said was true, but the practice of existing in both space can feel like chaos inside my head. Findings breath between the highs and lows will always be my calm.
On Thursday I sat across from my therapist.
You need to get curious about your discomfort. Just observe. Pay attention to everything. How do you feel? How are you breathing? What emotions are you experiencing?
Her words echoed the intention I set for myself this year.
On Tuesday I tackled my first speed workout in ages. 6×400 before 6am with one intention to fuel me – don’t give up on my intervals.
After my 4th interval, I let out an audible fuck. In my moment of recovery, I wondered why I do this. Running has been so enjoyable lately. It’s been comfortable and easy. Am I crazy to give that up?
Before my thoughts could even finish, I knew my answer. I’ve never been one for comfortable and easy. Being stagnant doesn’t work for me. I don’t thrive off day to day. I need to be lost in something. Running is always the strength I need for living, so its time to find more strength.
Right now I need to be lost in my discomfort. It’s the only way to see my light. It’s going to messy. It’s going to ugly. It’s going to get real.
Existing beside my own discomfort is also my greatest joy. They belong together.
“Some of your most powerful intentions are born in your moments of greatest contrast.” ~Michael Thomas Sunnarborg
It is time to be powerful. In my sadness and in my joy! Life comes from within. Strength exists within.
Heading into this weekend, I was stepping into and out of my comfort zone all at once. Trees and the mountains have always been my true love. Running is a close second. Heading towards the mountains for a trail race felt as natural as raising my children.
As we made our way west, it dawned on me I had no idea what I was driving towards. I had done little research. I didn’t scrutinize the details of race day. Dropping from the 50K to the 20K after a small tear in my quad sidelined me a few weeks ago, I had a false sense of confidence heading into race weekend.
I was “only” run 12ish miles. I could handle whatever came my way.
My false sense of confidence worked in my favor this weekend. I followed the race instructions, boarded a bus, got dropped off at a trailhead with a cone and a timing may start line, and I ran when the race director shot off his gun. I had zero race day nerves until I hit the trails.
“You have to be brave somewhere.” ~Brené Brown
Christian and I started together. We would decide as we went if we should stay together or run separately. Out of respect for other trail runners (because I assumed everyone else at the race was experienced and more trained than me), we started at the back of the pack. One by one we ran single track trail into the woods. We descended stairs. We crossed streams. We slushed through mud puddles. We played.
I started this race timid. Slipping and sliding through mud, I wondered how long it would be before I took a tumble. Slipping on rocks at river crossings, I wondered how long it would be before I fell into the river.
“You have to be brave somewhere.” ~Brené Brown
I read these words on my way out of town, and they echoed in my head for the first few miles of the race. When nerves and doubts bubbled, I repeated them. Pick brave. You have to brave somewhere.
A few miles into the race I found my footing. I became comfortable. I quit second guessing my ability to run hills. I didn’t over analyze where I should take my next step. I just ran what was in front of me. This crazy trail run become an extension of me. By mile 6 when we approached a river crossing too deep to cross by foot, I felt alive. We crossed the river by raft and ran on.
From here everything went up: the elevation, my attitude, and my confidence. Christian and I were still stride for stride quietly taking turns leading and following. He pushed me passed my timid ways in the beginning, and now it was my turn to push him to finish stronger than he started.
During one of the final descents down the mountain, another runner yelled out to me: fake your confidence. I glanced back, laughed and replied: “it’s like you’ve known me my whole life.”
That gentle nudge to own my run allowed me to open up my stride, to embrace the downhill and to trust that I could run this trail. When the finish line bridge became visible, I felt a strange mixture of pride and sadness. Proud because I finally embraced myself on a run. Sad because I wasn’t anywhere close to being ready for it to be over.
Christian and I crossed the finish line together, and I know we are both eager to get back out there. The trails have so much to teach us, and this weekend we just scratched the surface.
As we make our way back east towards the beach, my heart aches a little. There is something about the mountains that can’t be replaced. I need them in my life. My heart exists within them.
For now, I’m going to carry their lessons with me. This year my goal is to observe, and yesterday I saw a new spark in me. I saw a girl who chose brave and who gave herself space to work through timid in a way that works for her.
“You have to be brave somewhere.” ~Brené Brown
Finding myself in comfort and discomfort is invigorating. I’m coming home awake.
As I ran towards the park on the Cape Henry Trail, my goal was simple. With every stride I took, I wanted to feel my foot hit the ground. I wanted to feel the connection between me and the earth. Reach. Connect. Absorb. Push forward. I was there to feel my run. Every other thought was left behind me.
I have found myself sitting across from my therapist on a frequent basis these days. In this space I bring my thoughts with me. My goal is simple. I want to feel myself existing in my world. I want to feel my connection between me and my world. As I sit quietly in her peaceful room, the goal is the same as it is when I put on my running shoes. Reach. Connect. Absorb. Push Forward. In this space my thoughts comfort me. My body is left behind.
The year of waking up delivered me to a place of observation. With my eyes wide open, I am seeing everything. I’m seeing my light, my wounds, my joy, my hurt, my strengths, and my weaknesses. I’m seeing myself.
I’ve discovered a pattern in my life. I crave safety, yet safety is the one thing that feels suffocating. My need to feel safe and protected has driven me to tuck myself away. It’s a basic human need. We all need to feel safe.
The more I’ve observed, the quieter I’ve become. My own words have failed me lately. Maybe it’s because I don’t have a full story to tell that I’m looking to find comfort in the words of others. My moments are filled with devouring books of women who like me are trying to fly free. I feel clumsy in my own being knowing that I’m outgrown the cage I’ve created for myself.
I crave freedom.
“The psyched and souls of women also have their own cycles and seasons of doing and solitude, running and staying, being involved and being removed, questing and resting, creating and incubating, being of the world and returning to the soul-place.” ~Clarissa Pinkola Estes
So many people have asked me what comes after the year of waking up? Maybe I finally know the answer. Maybe the next chapter is knowing I’m safe when I fly free. I don’t have to remain small or rooted to be safe. There is safety is soaring. There is safety in taking flight.
Reach. Connect. Absorb. Push Forward.
This is how I make sure I’m safe. It’s through reaching and connecting that I’m able to absorb all I am. It’s how I push forward. It’s how I fly.
For an entire year, I set out on a quest with one intention. I wanted to wake up. I wanted to live life with an exclamation point instead of a question mark.
But what exactly does that mean? What does it mean to wake up? I don’t have an answer to that question for you, but I found it for me. I found it by not asking. I found it by existing. I gave up questioning and doubting. I charged forward. I pretended to know what I was doing until i believed my own actions.
2017 ended. 2018 began. I feel myself existing and living.
We belong awake.
I’m at the start line of a new adventure. In April I’ll attempted to run a 50K through Kentucky. I have so many questions. How do I train? What’s it like on the trails in Kentucky? Can I do this? I’ve asked them to myself and out loud. As I received answers, I realized something.
I am my own answer.
I’m not asking questions to learn or to grow. I’m asking questions to validate that I can do this. I’m asking to reassure myself that I already know the answer.
“Life has no meaning. Each of us has meaning and we bring it to life. It is a waste to be asking the questions when you are the answer.” ~Joseph Campbell
I think this is how I become stagnant in my own life. When life becomes comfortable, when I feel confident in my answer, I settle in. The more I settle, the less vibrant life becomes.
We belong awake!
And this means we have to be our own answer. We have to live our own answer. An answer can’t exist without a question. We have to ask questions? Maybe out loud, but definitely to ourselves. We have to do things that makes us wonder what is possible. We need question marks just as much as we need exclamation points.
There is a fine line between questioning and asking questions. One includes doubts. One includes curiosity. One includes questioning yourself and the other includes believing you are the answer.
In my quest to wake up, to find the exclamation, I found my answer.
Ask questions but do not question. What do you need to live life awake? Be your answer. And Repeat. Over and over and over again.
As 2017 comes to an end, one thing has become crystal clear. If you want magic in your life, you have to create it. Magic doesn’t find you. You have to bring it to your life.
Living life awake doesn’t just happen. Every day you have to deliberately make the choice to wake up.
It’s risky. Sometimes it hurts. It leaves you exposed. And it’s magical.
Maybe that’s what makes New Year’ Eve and the New Year so appealing. It’s an ending and a beginning all within one second of each other. The ball drops, and you get a brand new year.
That’s the magic. That’s being awake.
Within one second of everything in life is being alive. You never know when your one breath away from your best or your worst. When the ball drops or things fall apart, you get to start again. If we never let the ball drop, we never get a new beginning.
As 2018 approaches, I have one goal. It’s to observe life without judgement. It’s to allow myself (and others) to exist as I am.
I belong awake.
We belong awake.
The only way to live is to allow ourselves to be one second and one breath away from our best or maybe our worst.
Cheers to a life of magic. Cheers to being awake.
“You have to participate relentlessly in the manifestation of your own blessings.” ~Elizabeth Gilbert
Cheers to 2018, a year to let go of judgement, to observe, and to participate relentlessly in living life awake!
Just observe. Do not judge. These words have become the echo to all my thoughts and actions. I didn’t know it when I went to that yoga class a month ago that the practice would become the welcome mat to this next chapter in my life. I didn’t even realize on that night I was turning the page to a new chapter.
When life is challenging, how do you feel? How do you react? Our instructor asked us these questions? I answered them. During my practice, when it got hard I judged myself. I’ve done the same in life. I’ve felt weak and not strong enough. I’ve questioned my mind and my heart. I’ve forgotten to welcome it all. I’ve forgotten that there is no right or wrong. There is just being.
You can’t exist in the present if your not observing what your feeling.
You can’t exist in the present if you’re judging your reactions.
This practice doesn’t just apply to the times when life is challenging. It also applies to the times when life is good, when you feel alive, and when you feel awake. Just Observe. Don’t judge. My year of waking up started as a goal for my spring race season. It twisted and turned and become less about running and more about living.
It’s a simple practice, yet it is nearly impossible to implement. Since that yoga practice, I have craved more. I’ve felt myself being drawn back to my roots and all the thing that ground me. I feel myself being pulled towards my yoga mat, the trails, and movement. I feel myself existing in my body and through my body.
When asked what is next, I’ve answered over and over again that I don’t know. I don’t know. I don’t know. But I do know. This new chapter is less about what and more about existing.
Existence comes from observation. Existence lacks judgment. Existence happens when we embrace who we are.
This week I placed my rooted mala around my neck. It’s been a long time since I’ve reached for this set of beads. I was feeling unsteady and unsure. When I bought this set of beads, I wanted a reminder to stay rooted in my life, in my family, and in my community. I was creating a foundation. This time it feels different. This time the roots are not things, this time the roots are me.
Life can be so complicated and noisy. Marriage gets hard. Parenting is never easy. It’s easy to fall away from who you are.
But then something happens, and your invited back to who you are. It can be something as simple as unrolling your yoga mat and a simple movement of your body. Just Observe. Don’t Judge. If you don’t, you’ll miss the invitation to exist in your entirety. You’ll miss the welcome mat to your life.
In a yoga class a few weeks ago lead by Jessica Johnson, co-founder of the Bhav Brigade, my body felt unsettled. I was unsure before I even arrived in class. I convinced myself to show up, to walk inside and to unroll my mat. Unsure of my place in the class, feeling unsettled in my body, pushed beyond my physical comfort zone, I wanted to flee. And then Jess guided us. Sharing the words of Glennon Doyle, she created a welcome mat for my practice.
we’ve got it all backward down here. We want to be on the mountaintops, but we’re not called to be victorious. We’re called to be wise, strong and kind. We are admired on the mountaintops, but we are beloved in the valleys. All the magic is in the space between mountains, where we have to unbecome everything we thought we were and start from scratch. This is hard to do, because when pain comes in the form of uncertainty, our instinct is to scramble out of it, to grab blindly for the familiar. But when we rush out of the valley, we miss gathering all the wisdom, strength and kindness we need for the next climb. We have to learn how to sit by the river and be still enough to claim its gifts. ~Glennon Doyle Melton
So here I am again. I’m in the middle again, the middle of the mountain. This is where the magic happens. But this is also such a hard place to exist. It’s a daily battle to not give up or give in.
The yoga practice that night challenged me. With sweat rolling down my back, I wanted to retreat to child’s pose. It’s always available, but did I need it. I knew I didn’t need it. I just wanted easy. I stuck with hard.
I was still unsure when I left class that night. I still didn’t feel settled, but that practice has remained a constant in my daily thoughts. Jess asked us in the moments when our legs want to give up, when our hearts are straining, to observe. What we are feeling doesn’t matter, but making note of how we are feeling does. When we are challenged, how do we respond? There is no right answer. There is only our answer.
What is my answer? I scramble. I flee. I feel panic. I become unsettled.
I sat with my feelings of being unsettled that night. I used my breath to calm me. I used the flow of my body to feel alive. The more I felt graceful and powerful in my movement, the more my anxiety disappeared.
Yoga is more than a class. It’s called a practice because it’s something we do every day. It’s something we practice in every aspect of our lives.
This Saturday before sunrise I drove to the trails. As I drove passed the Chesapeake Bay, I found my mind wandering. How can I feel so alive and so unsettled at the same time? This is the best I’ve felt mentally, physically and emotionally in a very long time yet part of me is still so unsettled. My thoughts wandered some more. I was drawn back to my yoga practice. If the movement of my physical body is what settles me, I need to move more. I was headed to the perfect place to move my body. The trails are my yoga practice.
That morning the trails were flooded with light and frost. They were flooded with fog and mist. They were alive, and my body carried me to a place of feeling settled. My running feels fluid again. It moves with ease.
As I ran with the trees I was reminded of all the shared stories and dreams I’ve whispered to these trees. I’ve spent so many years and miles wandering through these woods they are part of who I am. The trees with the greatest reach also have to strongest roots. To reach high, you have to be deeply rooted.
I feel myself reaching higher and higher every single day. I can’t help but wonder if my roots are a little shaky? For the rest of December, I’m returning to my yoga mat and the trails. I’m returning to the relationships that nurture me. Instead of glancing up to the top of the mountain, I think I’ll take a few steps back to the valley. Dig in, get dirty, and allow the movement of my body to settle me.
In my roots, at the base of the mountain, I am reminded that I am small. When I am small, I am reminded that I’m part of a much bigger journey. I am much bigger than myself. I am small, but I matter. This is the space that feels like home to me. This is were I become settled.
On Sunday I frantically hit refresh on my phone as I watched the live results of the California International Marathon. I knew my friend would cross the finish line in any minute. It’s a story only she can tell (and i highly encourage you to read it HERE), but I’ve have a seat on the sidelines over the past few years as I’ve watch her do everything possible to qualify for the Olympic Trials! Her resilience, her determination and her heart are something I truly admire. She made her wildest dreams come true. I burst into tears when I saw her finish time pop up on my screen. She did it!
As I hit refresh over and over again, I felt something refreshing inside of me too! It’s easy to dream big. It’s really hard to make those dreams come true. A fire was reignited inside me. I can do it too!
One month ago I crossed the finish line of the New York City Marathon. It will always be one of the greatest days of my life. It was friendship and community, but it was rooted in overcoming! Life put so many hurtles between me and that marathon, and somehow I conquered them all.
I love the marathon. I love the miles it takes to get to race day. I love the ebbs and flows of every training cycle. I love race day.
One month later my body is feeling better than it has ever felt. I’ve found the magic combination for me!
My magic combination has come in the form of massage. I’ve found someone who understands how my body works (and how it doesn’t work!). I’ve got life back in my legs!
The week before I left for New York I laid on the massage table talking about dreams and life and the path I’ve taken leading up to that race. My massage therapist said to me you’re ready for what’s next! I can’t wait to see what comes after the year of waking up!
I almost cried on the table. What’s next? Running makes me feel alive. It has brought me everything I have ever wanted. Running is my dreams in motion. It’s how I connect with myself. It’s how I see my strength and discover my weaknesses. It’s how I overcome. Running is my heartbeat.
What’s next? I don’t know! I’ve let go of some of those big dreams to make room for other things in life. Life is has ebbed and flowed. But there is one thing that has never changed. My greatest fear is not living up to my potential. I fear I’ll sell myself short in life and in running. In my heart, running and life belong together.
What’s next? I don’t know, but I do know there is magic in the air. After the New York City Marathon, my entire world gained a vibrancy I didn’t know it was lacking.
What’s next? In April I’m running my first 50K trail race. I’m going to see where the miles take me.
Whatever is next is going to be magical! And I know my running shoes will get me there!
“There is no need to search; achievement leads to nowhere. It makes no difference at all, so just be happy now! Love is the only reality of the world, because it is all One, you see. And the only laws are paradox, humor and change. There is no problem, never was, and never will be. Release your struggle, let go of your mind, throw away your concerns, and relax into the world. No need to resist life, just do your best. Open your eyes and see that you are far more than you imagine. You are the world, you are the universe; you are yourself and everyone else, too! It’s all the marvelous Play of God. Wake up, regain your humor. Don’t worry, just be happy. You are already free!” ~Dan Millman
I don’t know where to begin, so perhaps I just need to start. This theme of not knowing but also moving forward became a thread that ran through my entire marathon journey, so it’s no surprise I find myself feeling the same way 4 Days Post Marathon. Don’t search. Just go!
This journey started with a simple yes! When a friend I’ve always admired asked me to join her at the New York City Marathon during her chemo treatment, I screamed yes. Would I fundraise too? Yes! Every time she asked, I said yes. It lead me here to this place of pure joy and satisfaction.
This weekend was magical. Every moment. Every detail. Every mile. It was all magic.
But how do you explain magic? You can’t. You have to see it and you have to believe in it. That is what this race has been for me. Seeing and believing in team, in community, in dreams, in friendship, in myself, in a cure, and in achieving. What started as a dream of a friend conquering cancer ended as a dream come true. She did it! We did it! I see and I believe!
The way the details unfolded can only be described as magical. My job at J&A Racing granted our team Race Director credentials. We were given VIP race bibs, VIP transportation, and access to the VIP pre and post race accommodations. Karen’s story of survival allowed our team to be invited to walk in the parade of nations. We shared dinner with our favorite Olympians, Ashton and Brianne Eaton. We were invited to run the first 10K of the race with the Eaton’s in the first wave of Runners.
When you defeat cancer you deserve every ounce of magic. Karen deserved every bit of happiness that was showered on her this weekend. As her supporter, I ran beside her in disbelief that this experience belonged to me too.
In all my weeks of training, I felt insecure. My running has slowed down. My team mates are fast. Every time I heard them say they wanted to run as a team, I secretly wished they’d run their own race. I didn’t want to hold them back. I didn’t want to be the weakest link.
They wouldn’t let me run alone. That wasn’t what this weekend was about. We are a team. We are friends. We are unit. We got to New York together, and they would not let my insecurities get the best of me. We were running together.
The race cannon went off. A few minutes later we were running across the Verrazano Bridge. It was magical. Our group of 20 Team In Training member were running with the Eaton’s. We ran together for the first 10K at a pace that was faster than I have run all season. I didn’t care. I felt alive. My pace dropped into the 9s. I felt alive. Karen, Steve and I kept glancing at each other. Our faces all said the same thing. This is really happening!
Go Team! Go Kristy! Go Karen! Go Steve!
We were flooded with cheers!
My race plan was simple. Run the first 10K with the Eaton’s. Cool down for 20 Miles. Have fun. Share the miles.
The first 10K flew by. We said goodbye to the Eaton’s. We didn’t slow down. The energy on the course was like nothing I’ve ever experienced. It propelled me forward.
We hit the half way mark. I couldn’t stop smiling.
Our friends were at mile 17. I couldn’t stop smiling.
There are very few times in my life that I’ve felt so alive.
Those fast early miles and my lack of training caught up to me around mile 18. I didn’t care. I didn’t want the race to ever end.
Running through The Bronx was the toughest spot for me. I was in a lot of pain, but for the first time ever I didn’t doubt myself. I knew it would be tough. I knew I would hurt. But I also knew I could do it.
There is no joy without pain.
For the last few miles I experienced both at a magnitude that can only be described as magical.
This journey was for Karen. Every mile, every dollar raised, but I was rewarded with a priceless gift. I was given magic.
I got to witness the magic of conquering cancer.
I got to witness the magic of team.
I was given the magic of friendship.
I gained the magic of belief. I saw my strengths. I saw my teams strengths. I saw our strengths magnify as we worked together.
This journey isn’t over. In my heart we haven’t crossed the finish line yet. We are just beginning. There is so much more magic waiting for us to see it. I don’t know where to begin. All I know is I’m getting started.