She Who Is Brave

Last night I spoke on the phone with someone who is like a sister to me.

Open.
Honest.
Curious.
Confused.
Torn.
Hungry.
Spent.
Energized. 

She is facing an incredible spectrum of feelings, thoughts, questions, concerns, hopes, fears, and more all at the same time, for an important decision in her life at the moment. 

Stay? 

Go? 

Stay, because... 

Go, because... 

Each had it's weights to put on the plate on the scale, and it was an open conversation of trying to see if we could see where that scale is maybe tipping. 

Actually, scratch that, it was more of a conversation to see if she could feel where it's tipping.. after all, those steps need to be taken by her. It was an honor to listen. It was an honor to share in the light-show of thoughts, hopes, fears, maybe's, and what'if's that she's facing.

 "What do I do?"

"Where do I go?" 

Question marks. 

More question marks. 

Then it hit me... 

Question marks? 

Wow. 

She is standing, on her own two feet, with her heart in her chest, her brain engaged in her head, and her life in front of her.. standing.. and facing her question marks. 

She is not ignoring them. 

She is not shrugging them off. 

She is not putting them off for tomorrow. 

She is not asking for someone else to move her from here to there. 

She is not turning her back and strapping herself to a conveyor belt to keep moving. 

She is facing her question marks.. in the face.. upfront and personal. 

She is doing something that a majority of people, girls her age, women decades older may have never (ever) done.. 

She is facing it. 

Daring. 

To take a step? No.. maybe not.. maybe not yet.. 

She is daring to face them. 

Daring.

(For daring.. she's one of the bravest people I know.)

She is fierce from the inside. 

She is brave. 

I wonder where she'll decide to go. 

I hope she dares to take those steps, but support her either way as long as she's honest with herself about it. 

Go. Do. Be you. 

Learn who the you is. 

Poke.

Feel. 

Listen. 

Is it a mess?

No. It's life. It's a beautiful mess. 

 (( Keep Going ))

Why, hello there

Good morning to you!​

I'd like to welcome you (yes, you) to my little patch of grass to walk and talk on.
How did you get here?

Was it from a recent interview I was featured in with my morning routine?

Was it from a business card with a hashtag scribbled in ink that sent you on a twitter'venturous scavenger hunt to find the clues to this post?

Was it from a conversation during dinnertime with fellow dent and ruckus makers?​

Was it off of Google+?​

#WhatsWithTheShoes

Let's play a game.

If you're in the Twitterverse, and would like to have a fun (note: it will be random) conversation, use the hashtag #WhatsWithTheShoes in your tweet.

I'd love to play hide and seek (and chat).

Let's see where this adventure takes us.​

Functional

Functional.​

Functional fitness. Functional marketing. Functional insert term here.​

One year ago, I would have shrugged off any mention of "functional" as hype or a branding ploy. Functional fitness? Yeah, OK.​

One year ago, I could barely jog a few blocks around my house without falling apart or stopping hands-to-knees to catch my breath a few songs into the playlist. ​

Fast forward to the present tense..​

Last week I was faced with my first ever "the flight leaves in 32 minutes, the gate closes in 3 minutes, and you're ​2 minutes from the airport" scenario. I had already called the airline and learned that 0 flights were available later in the day, and knew that this would be a test of my patience, resolve, ability to plead with security, and you guessed it.. fitness to get to the gate once I'm done disrobing for the security check.

Sneakers were off, and hung on my fingers as if I was a human coat-rack.
Backpack was full, and on my back.
Carry-on was loaded to full capacity, and rolling behind me.

Problem: carry-on was rolling behind me. No time to roll and stroll.
It was time to move.
Time to lift it, move it, and move me (in socks) while carrying it across the conveniently long corridor from security to Gate C34.

I ran. I moved fast. I made it.
(Barely.)​

One year ago I had no clue what "functional fitness" meant. Spending 5 mornings per week for the past 9 months at Guerrilla Fitness CrossFit while moving fast and lifting heavy did not translate into me winning a weightlifting competition, or getting sponsored by Rogue Fitness, or getting 1,000 likes on Instagram for pictures of my abs or barbells loaded with plates double my weight.

"Move fast, lift heavy" while keeping a healthy proper form and not blowing my back or shoulders or hernia or whatever out translated into me having the lung capacity to run like the wind while carrying weight on my back in my pack and the strength to move with a bulky irregularly shaped object in the form of a heavy carry-on in my arms.

Life is an adventure.​
Embrace the unexpected.
Compete every day.
Improve every day.

(Keep going)​