Magical Maine

What if there are no rain clouds? What if there is only sunshine? 

A very good friend said this to me as we discussed sharing our joy! I have no problem exposing my weakness, sharing my heartache, and exploring my failures. Sharing my success is hard. Existing in a place of joy doesn’t always seem to fit. It’s what I’m trying to grow into right now. I am forcing myself to be comfortable with joy! 

Last week my boys and I boarded a plane heading to Maine. It’s been my dream to show my boys the world. When I was pregnant I would daydream about exploring with my children. I wanted to wander into nature and get lost with them. It always felt like a dream. After having Cole, I quickly became a single mom. When we moved back to Virginia, my dream was to create a life for the two of us. I craved roots and my dreams of wandering shifted to creating stability. 


As I boarded that plane last week I couldn’t help but feel proud. It was a dream come true. I was taking my boys to see part of world that remains untouched beauty. We’d hike and explore. We’d climb mountains. We’d splurge on ice cream every night and lobster dinners. I’d say yes more than no. As I boarded that plane, I was exactly the mother I have always wanted to be. 

Maine was magical. Every morning I woke up feeling alive. In my unwashed hair and no makeup face, in my recycled outfit from the day before, I felt at peace in my own skin. I felt my most beautiful. I’ve found this feeling in so many places around the world. I’ve found it in movement. I’ve found it in friendships. 

As I climbed mountains with my boys and discovered tidal pools filled with ocean treasurers, I realized my dream isn’t to show the boys the world. My dream is for my boys to discover a place of existence where they feel like their authentic self. For one week they got to see me at my best. I got to show them how I embrace life. 


They sat beside me in an old theater as we listened to an acoustic concert by Brett Dennen. Tears freely fell down my cheeks as his words healed my recent heartbreak. My boys stood beside me on the top of a mountain as we took in the beauty of the world from up above. We watched humpback whales breach. We explored islands that can only be reached at high tide. We skipped rocks on a secluded beach. 

Every night we sat down at dinner, and we all took a turn saying our favorite moment of the vacation so far. I can’t pick a favorite. The entire week is woven together to create this magical masterpiece that I’ll never forget. 


As I write this I feel compelled to tell you about our struggles during the week. I want to tell you how Chet wouldn’t eat. And how Cole and Chet battled over silly things. I want to tell you how Christian and I didn’t agree on our approach to both situations. That’s my habit. I highlight my weakness. In this new space of growth I’m deliberately  (and some what uncomfortably) focusing on the sunshine. 

I feel myself shifting to this new space. I feel myself expanding. I’m in a place in my life that feels like my own. I’m my best self right now, and I’m surrounded by people who are helping cultivate it. 

What if their is only sunshine? What if I really am stronger than I think? What if I finally give myself permission to be my best self? What if I learn to grow from my happiness in addition to my heartache? 

I’ve arrived at a place where I get to live my dreams, and I get to dream new ones I never thought would be within my reach. It’s amazing what happens when you give yourself permission to celebrate your own joy. 

What if there is only sunshine? It’s time to find out. 

Illuminators and Lighthouses. 

It’s every where: t-shirts, mugs, pretty graphics on social media, and even my blog. Staring back at us daily are messages of courage, strength, dreaming big, living bold, choosing joy, etc. We must live big. We must embrace the present. We must chase big dreams and push harder than we expected. We must over come. 

I believe all of this. I do. I embrace it. I try to live it. But sometimes life demands you stop. It slams on the brakes. If you don’t stop, you’ll crash. Thursday was one of those days for me. As I got out of the shower, I saw the look on Christian’s face. I hoped he wasn’t grumpy because we had a vacation waiting for us on the other side of the work day. When he opened his mouth and no words came out, I knew it was so much more. Then words came out, and I couldn’t comprehend them. Justin died. I made him repeat it over and over again. There was no way. Those two words never belonged together. We just talked. They just went surfing and had beers. 

Justin wasn’t just a friend. He was our glue. He was the one person who could always steer Christian. He was honest. He was authentic. He saw the path people needed to take for themselves. He was light. He was an illuminator. 

When Christian and I started to plan our wedding our biggest challenge was how we’d actually get married. Church isn’t our place. Getting married in a courtroom didn’t feel authentic to our marriage. We wanted intimacy. We wanted someone who knew us, saw us, and celebrated with us. Justin was that person. He married Christian and I on the beach 7 years ago. It was everything we wanted. 

With tears I made it through the work day Thursday. Christian and I hazily packed up our truck and our kids, and we headed south. We were headed in the direction Justin had just headed days before. 

******

This weekend was bitter sweet. For every squeal of delight as my boys caught wave after wave, a quiet sadness followed. All of a sudden being strong and courageous has no appeal. Chasing big dreams doesn’t matter. Existing in the small moments does. I’m embarrassed for ever claiming something bigger mattered more. 

Catching Waves

******

Saturday morning I headed out for my first long run of this training cycle. I had 8 miles to conquer. I made it a block. The feels-like temperature of 90 degrees at 6:00am took my breath away. I made it another block. Sadness clung to me. I ran one more block, and I gave in. 

I’m sad. And it’s okay. I don’t have to be strong or brave. I don’t have to be anything other than sad. I walked for two miles. I reached out to a trusted friend. I sat on a bench overlooking the sound, and I let the wind blow away my tears. 

I walked back to the beach house. I still let myself be sad. 

Initially I felt defeated. All my teammates overcame the heat. They overcame their obstacles. They fought back, and they won. I lost. I gave in. 

*******

Today we took a detour on our way home. Every summer I say I want to climb to the top of a lighthouse. I never go. Today that changed. 

Today more sadness clung to me. I learned of another loss with a nearly identical story to Justin’s: a medical emergency that ended in loss. Another illuminator in my life is gone. A person I secretly had a crush on is gone. The person who made me feel pretty during my divorce is gone. 

I don’t think my boys realized how much I needed to see that lighthouse today, but I’m so grateful they all wanted to go.  I needed to stand on the ground of a home that illuminates. I wanted to climb to the top to see a path before me. I wanted to share it with my boys. 

At the Top

Today as the weekend comes to end, I don’t care about 8 miles turned into a 2 mile walk. I don’t care about dreaming big or living large. Living small feels really important right now. Living exactly where I’m at feels really important right now. 

******

I’m fortunate to have an office across the hall from my running coach. I’m also down the hall from my other running coach. I’m surround by mentorship and inspiration. I’m surrounded by people who shine their light on me. A day doesn’t pass that I’m not given a tidbit or a reminder of how to thrive. This work environment is nurturing me to be my best. 

Before my first run of this training cycle I was reminded that my gift in life isn’t running. It’s not my writing. It’s my ability to connect. This training cycle is another opportunity to tell a story someone may need to hear. 

Today all I want is to abandon being strong. I don’t want to show anyone that they can tough it out through hard times. I am not an example of overcoming. I am sad, I feel a hole in my being, and I walked 2 miles instead of running 8. 

Today I’m existing. Today my existence includes sadness. This weekend getting out of bed and stepping outside took all my strength. I couldn’t run. I walked slowly. I allowed myself to be sad. I allowed fresh air to nurture me. That is all I had to give. 

The timing of this couldn’t be more perfect. I’m not pacing this season. My friends are getting speedy. I’m slowing down. Now is the time to turn inward. It’s time for selfcare. It’s time for me to give to myself. 

I’m craving small and real. I want meaning. I want to feel whatever the sunrise gives me. Last training cycle I want an exclamation point. This training cycle I want the empty space between paragraphs. I want the pause between moments. 

Somehow I’m hitting pause and running a marathon. They don’t naturally go together. I’ll figure it out as I go.

Sunrise over the Atlantic

Staring at the Start Line

Tomorrow morning is Day 1 of marathon training. I’m staring at the start line of a new chapter that I know will transform me. Marathon training has a way of stirring my soul. Every marathon has a story. I can’t wait to run my way through this one. 

New York City Marathon Prologue: The Day before Training Begins.

I’ve lost confidence in my physical ability. My body feels weak. My running feels clunky. Staring at my training plan scares me. 

How I got here doesn’t matter. How I move forward does. My challenge at the start of this training cycle is to meet myself where I’m at while allowing myself to grow. My challenge is to not look back and compare this training cycle to the other 3 marathons I have run. This marathon is new. The good and the bad of previous trainings have nothing to do with right now. 

I know the only way to start this training cycle is to write. Words are how I face my emotions, yet my writing right now feels as awkward and as clunky as my running. While I know exactly how it feels to train for and run a marathon, I have no idea how this training cycle will go. While I know how to write, my words aren’t coming naturally right now. 

And that’s okay! Starting this cycle feeling insecure about my physical ability is making me want to control every outcome. Isn’t this how it always work? When uncertainty appears, my need to control kicks in to overdrive. 

Tomorrow is Training Day 1. I will tackle Day 1. I’ll put a check next to tomorrow’s workout. Then I’ll tackle Day 2. The only thing I can control is the moment I’m in. 

Cancer Better Run

Because of work obligations, I won’t be pacing for the J&A Racing Training Team this fall. While I’ve run for myself for years prior to pacing, the last two years I’ve been pacing others towards their goals. Running for myself feels forgeign again. 

I’ve always relied on my running to fulfill all other aspects of my life. Running has made me a better wife and mom. It has pushed me to explore. It has given me friendships. It has given me success. For the first time ever, I’ll be relying on my confidence in other aspects of my life to fulfill my running. My confidence in every aspect of life has grown because of running. My career is blossoming because of running. 

Running will be simply running. It will be just me and my running shoes tackling miles every week. I’ll be running simply for the joy of running. I’ll be running for me. This is new, awkward, clunky, and slightly terrifying. But tomorrow it begins. Tomorrow I start training. 

It’s just running. I’ll find my stride. I’ll get there, but for now, it’s simply time to start. 

Live, Love, Run.

Freedom mixed with Fatigue 

“& often the result of daring greatly isn’t a victory march as much as it is a quiet sense of freedom mixed with a little fatigue.” ~Brene Brown

It’s been a month sense I’ve felt the pull to write words of my own for myself. My brain has been full. My heart has been full. My mind has wander down endless roads of possibilities. My head has been creating structure and order as I’ve attempted to wrap my thoughts around this brand new job of mind. 

It’s invigorating. It’s inspiring. It’s fun and challenging. It feeds my creative heart and my logical mind. It feels like home. 

Like all new things, it’s consumed me. My sleep has been restless. My alarm clock is a new idea that pulls me from my sleep at 2am. Like all new things, I’m settling in. One moment I feel like I have everything under control. The next moment I realize I’ve forgotten to do at least a dozen things. 

Yesterday on the day that our country celebrates it’s freedom, I crashed hard. The day started early with a sunrise run followed by yoga. Both fueled my spirit and brought me back to myself. The moment I got home and settled, my exhaustion came spilling out. I slept the day away. This morning I woke up ready. Tired but ready. Tired but free. 

Something happens when life falls into place. It doesn’t happen all at once. Very rarely does every piece lay perfectly at the same time. But sometimes it does. 

For a brief moment my life feels like an sunrise. The early wake up is exhausting, but it is always worth it to see the world come to life. Watching the dark sky turn to fire before the sun takes it’s position in the sky always leave me in awe. It’s a new beginning every single day. 

This is where I’m at right now. The dark is turning to fire. I’m waking up. While words have been hard to find and my energy hasn’t been flowing towards this place of mine, I know my words are always here to guide. They are my true home. Sometimes words need quiet as much as I do. Sometimes they need fire. No matter their form or their volume, I know I’m exactly where I belong. I always have been. I always will be. The brilliance of each sunrise last for only moments. It happens every day, but the fire quickly fades to day. 

I Choose Joy. 

“And Martha said, ‘Honey. It’s true that God teaches us through pain. But it is also true that God tries to teach us through joy first. You can keep choosing heartbreak and pain, Glennon. But you can also choose joy. God can use that choice too. And I actually believe that God prefers to use joy to teach us.’ And so, for once, I’m choosing joy.

I have lived a long while learning from pain and God, it’s been a good teacher. I’m forty one, now. And I’m graduating to joy.
I choose joy. You can too. First the pain. Then the rising. Your courage is bigger than your fear.” ~Glennon Doyle

The God that Glennon believes in exists in the trees for me. It exists in the dirt, the sky, and the sun. For me it is the beautiful ebb and flow of our planet. Nature is my teacher.

On Sunday I found myself immersed in conversation on my favorite trails with three of my favorite friends. The trails are my church, so it’s fitting that awareness to my growth was presented to me while trail running. As we were making our way up one of my favorite climbs in the park, Tasha, my high school friend and now team mate and great friend, called me out for hiding.

“I read your blog post. I thought to myself here it comes. Kristy’s big announcement. And then I read, and I read. It was buried! You barely announced it.”

Thank you Tasha for shining your light

On Saturday morning I ran with Team in Training teammates. As we finished up a run, my new running partner asked me what I do for a living. I stumbled over my words. It was hard for me to say out loud I work for J&A Racing. My neighbor stopped me on Saturday after she read my blog, and she shared the same thing that Tasha shared. She read it several times making sure she was reading what she thought I was saying.

Buried in my blog post about overcoming heartache and unfilled goals, I announced very quietly that I am the Director of Communications for J&A Racing.

Joy is hard for me. I try to live in a constant state of gratitude but somehow along the way, I’ve come to expect not quite hitting my goal or getting what I want. I take pride in rolling with the punches and making the best of all my scenarios. I am proud of the fact that I can find a silver lining in everything I do.

But joy – choosing joy, welcoming joy, this is where I get stuck. This is when I can’t find words to announce my excitement properly.

I’m walking into this next chapter confident. I feel like I did on the day Christian and I drove through Utah heading to our honeymoon destination. I see the mountains and their greatness for the first time. The air is clean. The world is vast. There is a magnitude to this adventure. And I’m speechless. Based on portion and perspective, I’m small in this big world, but I know that I’m meant to be here.


This time I’m not standing back admiring the mountains from afar. I’m on the mountain. In order to feel all my joy and excitement, I have to release it. I have to allow it to echo off the world around me, so it can come back to me and flood me with joy.

This journey chose me. I choose this journey.

I choose joy.

Next Monday I will proudly join the J&A Racing team as the Director of Communications. 

Zion National Park

I can be a Dreamer 

Earlier this week I found myself scrolling facebook. I was full of energy, nerves, anxiety, excitement, and anticipation. Unsure what to do with this overwhelming energy, I stared blindly at my phone. My own name jumped off the screen.

“I can be a mother and a wife. I can be a dreamer” ~Kristy at Breath of Sunshine.

Three years ago Nicole from My Fit Family, a woman whose words and running I admire whole heartedly, quoted my blog. Every now and then she reshares her post with my words attached. This week she unknowingly reminded me of how grateful I am for my journey.

If you’ve been following along, you know my story. Three years ago I found myself sad and heartbroken over an unexpected “No” in my life. I was rejected from my dream job. Words are how I process life. They are how I think and feel. They are my logic. When big things happen, I use my words to navigate the space. The blog that Nicole quoted was my way of healing.

If you would have told me on February 24, 2014, the day I wrote that blog post, I’d ended up getting that job 3 months later, I would have never believed you.

If you would have told me one year later, I’d find myself in Peru living out a lifelong dream, I would have never believed you.

If you would have told me another year later, I’d have my heart broken again by that dream job, I would have never believed you.

I would have never believed you. None of it felt possible on that day when I questioned all of my dreams because I received a “no”. I didn’t believe any of this would be part of my story.

I also would have never believed that next Friday, June 9th I’d walk away from a job I truly enjoy to explore a new dream. I would have never believed I’d be starting a new chapter with the two people I found on top of Machu Picchu Mountain in that life changing trip in Peru. I would have never believed that my passions would collide, and I’d be given the opportunity to combine words with running.  I would have never believed I’d be joining a team that already feels like family.

I promised myself on February 24, 2014 that I’d never stop dreaming. I promised myself I’d embrace every “no” as a “yes” to something unexpected.

If my journey has taught me anything, it’s that the only way to live my life is to commit with my heart and trust the outcome. It’s okay to feel unprotected. It’s okay to leap. It’s okay to fall. It’s okay to fail. And now I’m learning it is also okay to succeed.

img_6680
Planting myself in something I love.

 

You have to be willing to let go of the expected to make room in your life in the unexpected. I shared my news with a sweet friend this week, and her response sent a shiver down my spine.

“Keep dreaming big. Life is even bigger than our dreaming.” ~Lucia Claire

Dream big. It’s words we hear all the time. It’s easy to dream big. It’s hard to let go of expectations of what those dreams should look like.

A piece of advice to myself when I find myself on the receiving end of a heartbreaking “no”:

It’s okay to aim for the top of the mountain. It’s okay to set out alone with nothing but a backpack and too much water. In fact,  the only way to get to where I’m meant to be is to climb my own mountain.

Don’t be afraid to climb the mountain by yourself. Keep pushing. Keep going. You have no idea what you’ll find at the top. If you hear someone calling your name at 12,000 feet above sea level in a forgeign country, turn around. Change your plans. Accept their invitation.

Machu Picchu Mountain

If  you hear someone calling your name while running down your favorite trail in your hometown, turn around. Change your plans. Accept their invitation.

Say yes! Embrace every no!

I am still having a hard time believing that on June 12th, I will start a new adventure with J&A Racing. I’m having a hard time absorbing my happiness and gratitude. Over the years I’ve become really good at finding my silver lining. This new chapter of life is already pushing me to welcome and trust that dreams come true.

As I step into this next chapter, I have to take everything I’ve learned from hearing “no” and apply it to hearing “yes”. It’s time to welcome living in a place of dreaming.

My last time running the Shamrock course! I can’t wait to be on the other side next year!

 

 

Home. Seven years later. 

This house became our home seven years ago this summer. I fell in love with the trees, the neighborhood, and the energy of the home. It was love at first sight.  We bought from the original owners. Built in 1960, a family was born and raised here. You could feel it the moment you walked in the front door. As we toured the house, I saw Cole running from his bedroom, down the stairs to a room filled with Christmas presents. I heard the laughter of children in the walls. I was very much in love. 

Our dreams were big when we moved in. The house needed (needs) love poured back into it. This home has poured its love into others, and it was (is) begging to be loved in return. We had a five year plan. We’d make it ours. 

Then life happened. Chet joined our family. Income shifted to daycare and new cars. Little by little we made some changes. A new bathroom, new furniture to create an office space for Christian, some new paint, yet the five year plan sat on the shelf. It gathered dust with all the untouched projects in our home. 

This morning I woke up, and I knew it was time.  Clouds filled the sky cancelling our pool plans. Instead we began what we always intended to do. First on the list was the removal of the family room’s built in shelves, gun cabinet and closet. Occuping the last three feet of our family room, it had overstayed its welcome. 

Starting somewhere
Demo began. Layer by layer we peeled back all the wood that was no longer serving our home or our family. We pried each nail out of the wall. We patched the holes. We laughed at everything we exposed (mint walls and mint speckled lineleum floors). Our room began to breathe. 

Next step: paint
Like all good life renovations, it’s never easy. It never ends quickly. One problem exposes another until you’re left with a clean slate and a solid structure to rebuild your existence. 

Tonight we are left with a room filled with clutter, half painted walls, missing carpet, and a brand new perspective of our home. The vision of what our home is meant to be is starting to take shape. 

As we purge, clean and carefully select everything we want this space to be, we will be living in the mess for a while. Transformation can’t be rushed. Change happens slowly. Little by little we are pouring love back into this home. 

Together this house and I are finding our room to breathe. 

Buried in our walls

Follow your Breath

“This being human is a guest house. Every morning a new arrival” ~Rumi

Last Wednesday I unrolled my yoga mat with nearly 500 other yogis. Together we lined up with only inches to spare on the deck of the USS Wisconsin. The class was a celebration of endings and beginnings. The community of Norfolk is rich with culture. It is vibrant. It is alive. Part of that community is Bhav Brigade – a group of yoga instructors determined to make yoga accessible to everyone by eliminating barriers and bringing openness to each practice. This class was a farewell to one of their founders, but also a congratulations as she steps into the next chapter of her life.

Every time I unroll my yoga mat, I believe it’s an opportunity to welcome something new. It is a beginning. When I show up empty and open, I am always gifted with exactly what I need. This class was no different.

While the deck of the boat was filled with my friends, I found myself shoulder to shoulder with strangers. Before class even began, I knew this class belonged to me. As I sat on my mat staring over the river, I was flooded by the urge to shed: emotions, anxiety, and the weight on my body. Everything felt heavy.

📷: Shannon Wade
The yoga practice began, and my body resisted the movement. My head fought back as I tried to settle myself. Finally it happened. I arrived on my mat.

Prompted by the yoga instructor, I brought my attention to what I was holding on to? What are you holding on to? What of that is no longer serving you? As I took physical inventory, my body melted. My jaw relaxed. My shoulders dropped. My chest opened. I found the way into my practice.

📷: Peter Squicciarini

Just like the best runs, my physical existence always directly connects to my emotional existences. Moving my body always exposes every aspect of my life. My yoga practice is the same. When I relax my jaw, I relax my heart. When my shoulders drop, my breath deepens. When I settle into my yoga mat or my stride, I settle into my life.

Life has felt a little chaotic lately. The full moon brought with it full energy. My pace has been a little too fast to feel settled. I have found myself asking the same questions my yoga instructor asked me last Wednesday. What am I holding on to? What is no longer serving me?

rumiquote

Life is reminding me to slow down. It is reminding me to be intentional. It’s reminding me to take inventory of what I’m holding on to and what is serving me. Every morning, every time I unroll my yoga mat or I put on my running shoes, I have a choice. I can show up empty and open, I can welcome what arrives, or I can hold myself back.

Embracing the flow of life is my greatest struggle. I speed things up, I push too fast, and I forget to settle.

Today I took my practice to the trails. Tired is clinging to me. Instead of forcing the run, I listened. I slowed down. I walked. I enjoyed the views, the fresh air, and the dirt beneath my feet. Movement is movement. It doesn’t matter how fast or how far I go. Real growth in life comes from the moments when we let go and met ourselves where we are at in life. 


I am craving depth and light. Every part of me wants to shed the extra weight I’m carrying with me. I want openness. This is where I’m placing my priority this season. I know that summer can be a hard season for me. Heat can be restrictive. It makes it hard for me to breathe. I’m not fighting it this season. I’m welcoming it, and I’m giving myself the tools I need to remain open. 

Embracing the flow of life, existing without expectations, and following the path that allows me to breath deeply is the only direction I’m willing to head this summer. 

Settle.

When you release you’re intention into the world, it always comes back to you. I’ve been reminded of this over and over again. Release something, and the world rewards you. It challenges you, provides opportunities for practice, and rewards you.

Before my words go wandering down this path, let me be clear. I don’t believe the world is here to serve me. Nor do I believe all I have to do is ask for something to receive it. I don’t believe anyone or anything is responsible for the outcomes in my life but me. What I do believe is that when I chose to focus on something by setting intentions, I start to notice it more. I become observant of the world around me through my intentional practices. The lens I use to view the world changes. It provides purpose to my daily interactions.

Writing my intentions for the Coastal Delaware Half was my release. The moment my words took shape on paper they solidified their presences in my heart. Now I’m finding pieces of it scattered through out my life.

Last night was a full moon.

Last night I also happened to be the only person at home for the first time since possibly Chet was born.

When a popup full moon yoga class appeared on my newsfeed I knew I would attend. With the sounds of downtown Norfolk as a backdrop, with the full moon as a spot light, and with an amazing breeze off the river, I happily unrolled my yoga mat. 

I set my intention:

Settle

“Let the waters settle and you will see the moon and the stars mirrored in your being.” ~Rumi

After a tough tempo run, after rushing home to feed the dog and myself, and after rushing back to Norfolk for this yoga class, I knew I needed to settle into my mat. My energy felt frantic. As we moved through poses, I found myself looking outward instead of inward. I needed to settle within myself.

We moved through a series of poses that were new to me. The sequencing was fresh. After completing both the right and the left side, we were instructed to move through the sequence again on our own. Gracefully the teacher told us to let our intuition guide us. Our bodies would remember. For a moment I panicked. Settle. I don’t know the sequence. I looked outward. Settle. I closed my eyes. I focused on my breath and my body found the movement. It found the movement it needed.

And there it was. The reason I showed up for the yoga class. Toss your intentions into the world and look for opportunities to practice them.

I told my running coach I didn’t want a race plan. I asked for no guidance on race day. I want my body to guide me. I want the freedom of running by feel. I want to give my body what it needs on race day. In the full moon yoga class, I was given exactly that. For a moment I panicked. I wanted guidance. I looked outward instead of inward. Then I reminded myself to settle. I know I’ll need this reminder again on race day. 

When moving through life (or running a race or practicing yoga), to get to where you want to go you have to push beyond the panic. Fear paralyzes all progress. For me the only way to do that is to settle. I have to calm myself down. I have to relax. To find freedom in living and in running, I have to turn inward. I have to trust that my body knows the movement.

When all the fear and the panic settles, I’m left with nothing but the magic of my life.

Last nights yoga practice was the perfect reminder. My race in 10 days will be another chance to practice.