B-attitudes.

Feeling so grateful and light and energetic- mostly because of high-vibrational foods and the good people in my life.  This last weekend of November (wow, does time fly!) was brought to you by the letter B.

Blended juice of beets, carrots, apples, parsley and ginger. Amaaaazing.

Move over, Vitamix…there's a new kid in town… 

Another adventure in vegan, gluten-fee baking.
Ginger molasses cookies that complemented our pumpkin coconut ice cream!

Bicycles and beets and baking and boots and bear hugs and breathing and bracelet-making and books and boats and Bibles and a Breville and time spent with one of my favorite people in the world, B.

Blessed. 

Moving On.

I spent the past nine years in a loveless relationship with Mr. H. Now don't get me wrong- H was dependable, trustworthy; the one you'd want to bring home to meet your folks at Christmas. They would approve of his no-frills, humble appearance; breathing a sigh of relief that there was nothing too loud or obnoxious about him.  Practicality on a plate.  Serving me selflessly for years. 

We took road trips from the coast to the snow-capped mountains, sand and sweat-filled memories logged in our memory bank. He came to all of my races, rain or shine. We spent chill mornings together listening to Howard Stern and eating oatmeal.  We sang together at the top of our lungs and laughed and shared deep conversations in the wee hours of the night. 

He was reliable and responsible, but I secretly wanted him to be more cutting edge, sophisticated, risk-taking. And so we'd show up at places together, conservative and happy, but knowing deep down we were both in a passionless relationship.  I ignored it because I thought H was my future. 

And that's when things started to get bumpy. Nothing felt as smooth or effortless as it once had way back when. We thought we could fix it- fix us… And so we sought professional help. We spent money. And we spent time. And even though he always said he was about reliability and spoke of our future together, I began to question him. It felt like superficial bullshit.  Eventually, things soured.

And that's when M first caught my eye. M was sleek and sexy and confident and wildly charismatic. My heart would race and my cheeks would flush every time I would catch a glimpse of him. I had to have him. I craved him, like a drug. Late at night, I'd find myself googling him, staring at his pictures- the light of my computer screen illuminating my lustful eyes. And the first time with M? Amazing. Toe-curling. He was exciting and new and effortlessly fed my adrenaline-hungry body.  He was everything that I had imagined. I wanted to bury my nose in him and inhale his scent deeply and caress him. He was addictive. Where H had left off, M took over, paying such careful attention to the small details- he cared about how my music sounded, the temperature of my body, my safety, my happiness.

And so yesterday, I made a big decision.  I chose M. And I'm all in, baby. 

Excited for our adventures that await.

Goodbye Honda, hello Mazda3. (oh, and hello, Garmin Vivofit!) 

I Wants To Stay Here.

Tonight I'll save my words and let you feel them through an old favorite of mine… Hang out, close your eyes and listen to the whole thing.

Do you feel that?  Me too.

Picking Up the Pen Again.

Morning: crisp and cool
Mood: über-productive
Music: Regina Spektor

"You own everything that happened to you. Tell your stories. If people wanted you to write warmly about them, they should have behaved better." 

-Anne Lamott 

Today started out as usual, with my beloved morning pages (The Artist's Way by Julia Cameron).  It's funny, some days those three pages are so difficult, so hard to get that pen across the page.  But today my hand felt like it was on fire, moving with such deliberation and freedom, and emotions and stories just continued to emerge from me.  Deep stuff, things I had no idea were buried so far beneath the rubble.  Funny how it's so much more profound when it's coming from your own soul, such delightful rawness and richness scribbled across the page.  This creative purging process is so precious and personal.  I love it.

A girl can never have too many trucker hats. Had to break in the new bday present! #Caliwinters

At noon, I hit the trails again and headed up a different path.  So.much.upness.  But it's good, so good for me to get back into the swing of things.  There's a race on the calendar now, which is definitely good motivation.  Just like writing, somedays it's easier than others.  Running is easier than it was last year when I couldn't run a mile without pain, but I'm definitely far from where I once was.  The most important thing is to keep putting one foot in front of the other, just like moving your hand across the page, line by line.

2 hours to make, 2 minutes to eat. So delicious...

Since the sunny weather felt like it was betraying winter, today I indulged myself in buying another pair of boots and made dried persimmons.  Just to remind me again that it's winter.  I'm looking forward to the rain...

Alive.

I'm really diggin' this weather.  I zipped up my Lulu scuba hoodie, threw on a beanie, lit my pumpkin spice candle and put some water on to boil.  Sipping some loose-leaf tea and listening to Chopin's Fantasie Impromptu in C# minor inspired a (no-pun intended) impromptu meal prep mania.  I was dancing around the kitchen stir-frying the bright magenta stalks of swiss chard with zucchini, while red quinoa was simmering on the stove and my food processor whirred the cauliflower to make curried cauliflower rice with mustard seeds and garam masala.  The carrots and cucumbers were meticulously chopped and nestled on top of the massaged kale salad.  Like a true OCD, type A planner, everything now is organized in its containers, all set to go.  Bring it on, Monday.

Pretty much the usual as of late… #plantpowered

This past week has been filled to the brim with meetings, appointments, and lots of face-to-face time with people.  Amazing stuff.  But draining. I traded my usual solo figure stuff out and clear the mind bike ride for an adrenaline-pumping, heart-pounding, Zone 5, 70 mile bike ride with fast peeps.  Instead of zoning out to podcasts, the main things running through my head, aside from "wow, nice calves" and "killer quads" were thoughts of "don't overlap their wheel" and "stay on that wheel!!"

It's funny how one moment can be all about feeling fresh and strong and how your nutrition is on point allowing you to ride fearlessly with your legs like pistons and pull the group like a true leader and keep a steady pace.  And suddenly, in a blink, your breath gets ragged, and your lungs burn, and the lactic acid starts creeping up into your quads, and you watch the numbers drop on the Garmin as your pace slows and your heart is pounding so fast and hard it's about to come up your throat.

And one-by-one, riders pass you as you helplessly struggle to keep your cadence up, and you question your fitness and your courage and wonder why you even had the audacity to think you were capable and strong enough to ride up here, in front of the men.  Suddenly, you forget about the crisp fall breeze kissing your rosy, sweaty cheeks and how freeing it feels to be out on the open road, and fail to notice the pink sunrise and how beautiful the clouds look at this hour in the morning.  Instead, you hate your bike, hate this whole stupid biking thing.  You question your outfit choice, you're so underdressed without toe covers and leg warmers.  You should've stayed home and slept in since you're undertrained and out of shape and just gone to the gym wearing makeup like all the other girls reading fashion magazines on the elliptical machine.

Yes, these are my thoughts.  And I bet they resembled the thoughts of other riders, as we all had spurts of feeling strong, and other moments where we got dropped like a sack of potatoes.

It's these negative thoughts that physically drain the energy from my legs.  On the bike, I am much more aware of the direct correlation of the quality of my thoughts and the quality of my energy output.  And how regardless of either, I am still moving.  I am still breathing.  There might have been 5 hours of climbing, but the hardest work I did was pulling myself back from those overly confident and overly agitated thoughts- to be that witness, that detached observer, realizing that they are ever-changing, impermanent, fleeting.

Sunday morning miracles. #trailtime #happylegs #happyheart

Even on today's run, seeing the silhouette of my running partner way up ahead, I had to embrace that same mentality.  Just enjoy it, don't judge yourself, your pace, your flat feet, your body.  Breathe in the aromatic trees, feel the damp earth underneath your feet, allow the forest to envelop you and all of your senses. 

I wonder why we all wait until sickness hits to appreciate the miracles that are our bodies.  Resolve to breathe more deeply into yours, see more clearly, move more consciously.  Sometimes some things as simple as a bike or a pair of running shoes can tangibly remind us of how it feels to be alive, to live fully- in our imperfect, sweaty, flat-footed, beautiful way.

Firmly Rooted.

A reminder from nature… #fromwhereIrun

"The notion of not wanting to be in charge of my own life interests me now that I feel I am. For so many years, more than half my life, I struggled with the emotional belief that if I could rest secure in the love of a partner I would blossom, like a flower well and truly planted. The idea that I had soil enough of my own took a long time to mature." -Phyllis Theroux

Paleo Party.

A full belly.  
Surrounded by amazing friends.
It's been awhile since I've laughed that hard-
That uninhibited, uncontrollable, contagious laughing that makes your eyes tear up.

Grateful for one of those nights.
My heart is so warm, so happy, so blessed.

Eleven Eleven.

Mood: Reminiscent
Music: Daughter- "Youth" (new music find, really diggin' her melancholy voice)

I'm pretty good at remembering birthdays, as well as strange dates too, like when someone's pet dies.  So it's no surprise that today, on 11/11, I woke up with this piercing thought- "Today would have been our three year wedding anniversary."

My unworn wedding veil, still in its protected plastic covering sits next my wetsuits in my closet, and sometimes I'll accidentally push it aside when reaching for the vacuum stored in that same space.  In a certain sense, it feels just like yesterday when my mornings were greeted by two kitties, happy and fed, who I would follow down the stairs.  The aroma of cardamom from the simmering chai on the stove would fill the house and I would smile when my eyes paused upon two ceramic bowls on the counter- one was full of his cereal, and the other was of my oatmeal.  Thoughtful, always.  

Yet, a part of me feels like that time in my life was ages ago.  In three years, I've witnessed friends marry and get divorced (some of them experienced both, sadly).  In three years, I've seen bellies grow and babies born and jobs lost and friends move away.  For me, this time changed the way I viewed setting boundaries, creating sacred space, and the value of transparency.  It changed how I approached navigating big goals without a plus one, causing me to rely on friends and family for support, but more importantly, knowing that I had to show up for myself and be my own biggest fan.  It changed the way I viewed my peers and my reactions when some unexpected gossip surfaced- I was less judgmental and more compassionate.  It changed the way I loved.  It changed everything.

On my birthday, my mom took out my baby book.  We laughed as we read her scribbly cursive handwriting recounting how she walked up and down the hospital hallway so she wouldn't have to be induced.  There was a list of all the visitors who came and their gifts.  And there, underneath my measurements of height and weight, was the exact time that I was born- 11:11am.

Eleven eleven.  The universe had greater plans, a grander way to signify this date cemented in my heart.  Now, instead of feeling a sting every time this day lands on the calendar, now it'll be a positive and symbolic reminder of my life- being re-birthed, giving rise to the new, with an innocent and open heart, arms stretched out wide to the heavens.

Something inside of me tells me this wasn't a coincidence.

Yin.

Yesterday while I was walking in the middle of the street, it just came out of me- unplanned, unfiltered- like some regurgitated food that suddenly forces itself up your throat, lingers for a second, then rushes back down to your belly where it belongs.  Loudly I said, "I hate people."

What I meant to say, was that crowds overwhelm me.  All of the weaving in and out, knocking shoulders with strangers, avoiding dog leashes and trying not to topple over people who walk SO slowly in front of you because they are on their phone.  All of the brushing arms with tattooed bodies and envying the girls who can walk effortlessly in 5-inch heels, and dodging out of the photo-ops for tourists... My body seemed to be holding its breath, waiting for that moment to just get some open space where I could reach out my arms and not hit anyone else, and then fully exhale in relief...

This is how our monkey mind must feel.  My outward verbal frustration was merely a manifestation of my inner longings.  An overwhelming need to sit silently and just breathe in and then exhale.  Always craving space, craving quiet, craving calm, craving some serious yin in my introverted world that seemingly always gets cluttered full of yang.

Yesterday was a far cry from last week's view at 17-mile drive in Monterey...

But you know what made it all worth it?  Seeing the bright-colored hues of purple(!) bell peppers, discovering how kabocha squash isn't always green, tasting jujubes and laughing at how that's my nickname.  Paying $4 for two honeycrisp apples but knowing that I was supporting local farmers.  Picking out my most favorite and beloved nashi (apple pears) that have been absent from Berkeley Bowl.  Sitting across from someone who enjoys deep conversation and beet salads and cold-pressed juice as much as I do. 

Our view from The Plant Organic Cafe

It's important to stay balanced.  Oh, the lesson I am always striving to learn.  Today included some sweat, wind and serious motion therapy on two-wheels.  

Keeping with the whole "n+1" rule for bike ownership. #SpecializedAmira

Sometimes it's the frantic, overstimulated, crowded environments that remind me of how drive and determination are key players to achieving a successful and adventurous life. 

And sometimes it's the sitting and writing on a quiet Sunday night, watching the flickering flame of my pomegranate candle burn, while enjoying every single delicious bite of a $2 honeycrisp apple that remind me of how much I love my solo space to reboot and recharge, and how really, my life is simple and beautiful.  It's a satisfying feeling that even 5-inch heels can't come close to.

Stepping Out.

"We begin to find and become ourselves when we notice how we are already found, already truly, entirely, wildly, messily, marvelously who we were born to be." -Anne Lamott

It's become an annual tradition to visit Point Lobos on my birthday.  Described as "the greatest meeting of land and water in the whole world," it really is just that.  Hiking on those trails, breathing in the fresh ocean air, hearing the waves crash against the rocks, and noticing the various hues of turquoise blue made me feel more alive and acutely aware of all my senses.    

Sand Hill Cove

Standing on those rocks also reminded me of my own humanity- a mere speck in the vast, grander scheme of the universe, but a soul in a body that knows what it's like to ache and break and breathe and heal.

Cypress Grove stairs

Yesterday I came across this quote- "The vision must be followed by the venture.  It is not enough to stare up the stairs- we must step up the stairs."  It was timely, because today I stepped out of my comfort zone.  With the encouragement and helpful advice from friends, I climbed those stairs.  I traded in my usual introverted, clinical nutrition computer charting hat for my more extroverted, lively, passionate public speaking hat.  Scared? A little.  Nervous? Sure, of course.  Excited? Oh, heck yeah!  This morning I used a tactic I normally use to psyche myself up for extremely long and daunting bike rides- I consciously made the choice to turn my fear into excitement.  And it worked.  

What a privilege it was to share my love and knowledge of nutrition with receptive individuals.  People who were open, authentic, truthful.  People who genuinely wanted to raise the bar on their own health and wellness.  I listened.  We talked.  And it wasn't all about fiber and green vegetables.  We spoke about how to inject more kindness and tenderness and mindfulness and gratitude into every breathe, every choice, every meal, every bite.  Because really, there's so much more to food than just the food.  

Yes, folks, we were able to get to that level.

It wasn't a hat that I would have initially chosen for myself, but today showed me that different can be beautiful.  This hat just may be a permanent part of my outfit...I'm smiling widely in the mirror and I know one thing for sure- it's not going to be hung up anytime soon. 

Birthday Eve Musings...

"I decided that the single, most subversive revolutionary thing I could do was to show up for my life and not be ashamed." 

-Anne Lamott

Las Trampas sunrise...

Today I really showed up for my life, released a lot of baggage and heavy rocks that I had been carrying around for years.  It was the necessary emotional and spiritual kick-in-the-pants that I needed, and now I feel lighter and freer.

It's my birthday eve as well, and today it occurred to me- this year has been good.  Actually, really really good.

I've finally stopped training.

And I've finally started living.

Grateful for everything I've learned in these 33 years of life, and looking ahead with bright eyes and a big smile for all that life has in store.  Onwards and upwards...  

WCW.

Winter writing.

"Writers are great lovers. They fall in love with other writers. That's how they learn to write. They take on a writer, read everything by him or her, read it over again until they understand how the writer moves, pauses, sees. That's what being a lover is: stepping out of yourself, stepping into someone else's skin."
-Natalie Goldberg, Writing Down the Bones: Freeing the Writer Within

It's Wednesday.

In officially honoring WCW (who comes up with these anyways?) Natalie Goldberg, I choose you.  

Start Where You Are.

Start where you are.

It's the best advice, really.  It's asking a lot to make someone who is used to eating 3 fast-food meals a day to immediately adopt an organic plant-based diet.  So we start small.  We weave a green smoothie bursting with vital nutrients and raw energy into their day, and allow them to eat the rest of the meals however they desire.  It's interesting to watch the shift.  They feel better from that one single change, and this starts them on a new trajectory towards better health and well-being.  First fix the food- then watch in amazement how the other areas in their life unfolds.

Start where you are.  I love that.  It also applies in meditation, as Susan Piver writes:

In meditation, it is not helpful to be mad at yourself for the inability to be peaceful.  Start where you are.  Start with sorrow.  Start with rage.  Start with boredom/anxiety.  Start with high hopes.  Start with disappointment.  Start with your very own body, breath, and mind.  Your experience IS the practice.  There is nowhere else to go.  Within your own experience, the entire path can be found.

This is something I'm still learning to grasp.  Letting go of expectations, enjoying this precious moment, unattached from outcomes.  It's been a process of teaching my spirit to not be defined by external constructs and labels.  To be unattached from my annual income.  To be unattached from the notions of being a homeowner or a mother or a wife.  To be unattached from a certain number on the scale. 

Because really, we have everything we need, right here, right now.  We were born complete, with abundant love, joy, grace and creativity.

When you start where you are, sometimes you realize that where you are is just where you need to be.

When that happens, you can finally relax.

And be yourself. 

Be Merry and Bright.

I never took anti-depressants.  Because I had spin class.  We first met each other there, in that sweaty, hot room, two lonely people- escaping our momentary realities for an hour.  That lovely hour served as a dark refuge, where we sweated off our worries and heartache at 100 rpms.

The holes and voids we each harbored in our own hearts from past hurts remained open and raw.  We were shadow companions- two empty souls desperately trying to fill a space of another person we could never be.  We allowed the charades to continue because it felt comfortable and safe and we were both still so fragile and afraid of being cracked wide open again.  He would sleep soundly and sometimes snore, so I would go and sit by the window, looking out, feeling so incredibly alone.  It was cold, so I would wrap my arms around my legs.  I would cry.  I wanted him to wake up and comfort me, but he never did.

One day while he was at work, I decided to surprise him by cleaning his entire house.  He always joked about hiring a maid.  I was willing to play housewife.  I vacuumed, dusted, scrubbed the toilets and the showers, perhaps symbolically trying to cleanse us both from all the debris and dirt and grime from our similar pasts. 

As I brushed the sweaty strands of hair from my face and pushed the heavy vacuum back and forth to make symmetrical lines in the carpet, I heard it, shrill and loud- 

"HEATHER!  HEATHER!!"

My God.  I never liked that parrot, but now I hated him.  His parrot continued to scream and call out his ex's name while I finished vacuuming, the anger rising in me with every vacuum line emblazoned into the carpet.

In that moment it became crystal clear that I did not belong there.  I did not belong in this relationship.  Here I was, cleaning and trying so desperately hard to be loved, needed, wanted, cherished- and the sign, oh, it was so loud and clear.

Shortly after the parrot incident, the dust settled- literally and figuratively- on our relationship. We reached a point where we discovered it was much more draining to stay in something that felt superficial and convenient than dealing with the deeper, darker Truths that held the key to our freedom.  

I can only smile, smile lovingly, at my former self who knew no other way during those months than to stay.  Who had no other sense than to quietly endure and rationalize and sit with the suffering.  Who somehow thought that the persevering could negate the way she failed in her other relationships.  But sometimes staying is more painful than leaving.

I learned a powerful lesson during this time-  It's futile to spend any excess energy on someone whose ghosts of past relationships continue to echo in their hearts (or in their homes).  Pack up your cleaning supplies, you Merry Maid, and move on your merry way.

A Potter and His Clay.

Long exhale.
Boxes upon boxes of ceramics have been unpacked, priced and displayed.  Four years of ceramics, to be more exact.

I watched as my dad carefully inspected each one, explaining to me the special glaze he used.  I heard terms like "wabi-sabi" and a technique called "chattering" that produced a jagged but beautiful texture on the outside of the pot.  This isn't Crate and Barrel.  There are no matching 'sets.'  Each was uniquely crafted... formed, shaped and glazed as his hands and his heart felt inspired.  

My dad is soulful, real, authentic and true.  And so is his work.

Hope to see you at their house from 9-3pm tomorrow...

Gifts.

"If you are not afraid of the voices inside of you, 

you will not fear the critics outside you."  

-Natalie Goldberg, Writing Down the Bones

Thank you, P, for the gift of this sunset and for books to help me get my insides down on the page.  I'm forever grateful.

A Different Approach.

Advice from Stanley Kunitz, on writing:

"Develop any other skill; turn to any other branch of knowledge; learn how to use your hands.  Try woodworking, bird watching, gardening, mushrooming, cooking, fishing, sailing, weaving, pottery, zoology, astronomy, cosmology, take your pick.  Whatever activity you engage in as trade or hobby, or field of study, will tone up your body and clear your head.  At the very least, it will help you with your metaphors."

My musical journal, of sorts...

Let's just say that lately, I've been working on my metaphors. 

The Ocean.

The beauty witnessed yesterday at Half Moon Bay...

The ocean-
Each day it witnesses
the playful laughter of children
unbounded by the constraints of life,
building sandcastles,
playing chase.

Each day it witnesses
lovers walking hand-in-hand,
it sees engagements and proposals being made,
commitments sealed, 
futures changed.

Each day it witnesses
photographers capturing its magnificent beauty
while others hide their eyes from its waves
as children are conceived underneath blankets
in between loving sighs and giggles.

The ocean-
Each day it witnesses 
the lonely and depressed who,
in their depths of uncertainty,
find solitude and comfort in the rhythmic
lapping of each new wave.

The ocean plays host to
the vastness of emotions and experiences
within the entire collection of human consciousness
that walk along its sandy shores.
Observing it-
Laughing at it?
Empathizing with it?

The sun sets,
concluding another day.
It watches as people pack their bags,
fold up their chairs, 
put away their cameras.

The sandy beach is slowly emptied.
The ocean waves continue to lap gently against the shore,
smoothing over the footprints,
leaving no trace of the day-
Cleansing, renewing and preparing-
for a new day
with new dreams.

Shut Up and Drive.

As a teenager, I loved the song "Shut Up and Drive" by Chely Wright.  I remember blasting it in my car on the way back from swim practice.  I also remember crying myself to sleep at night listening to those lyrics when I felt the first pangs of heartbreak...

Recently, I am learning more about the art of listening.  Too often, I would hear what people were saying, all while simultaneously thinking about what my response to them would be.  I was hearing them, thinking over what I would say, and not at all listening to them.

Sometimes as health professionals, we are so time-oriented.  We only have X number of minutes to spend with patients, and X number of minutes to teach/educate/obtain nutrition history.  I once heard a doctor say that if we only took the time to listen to patients, they would tell us everything that they needed in order to heal.  This has inspired me to be a better listener.

This means interrupting less, asking better questions, holding more space for them to talk.  And that in and of itself is healing and therapeutic.  In my experience so far, I've found that the end result is a more optimal destination that we've both reached together; something far more ideal than if I had talked at them or told them what to do.

My good friend can read my facial expressions really well.  He can tell right away from a split-second glance if I'm happy, stressed out, or upset.  During a challenging time in my life, sometimes he would put me in his car and just ask how I was doing.  My answers at first were superficial and concise- everything was bottled up inside like a big knot.  He knew it was only the first layer of the onion- I am too much of a deep-thinker and over-analyzer to just be "fine."

He would always keep driving, and as the road unfolded before us, slowly I was able to peel away the layers.  With each passing mile, I was able to understand and communicate and verbalize everything that I was experiencing.  He did not offer advice.  Like a good friend, he did what was best at the time- he just shut up and drove.  And by the time we returned, I felt like a huge emotional burden had been lifted from my shoulders.  I had more clarity and vision for my future and what I wanted.  And he hadn't really even said a word.

In our personal and work relationships, it's important to remember that giving advice isn't always the best thing.  Sometimes as a good friend or clinician, it's helpful to open the door to conversation, allowing space for the other person to be heard, and then steer wisely wherever the road and conversation leads.  I've found out that you'll both reach your destination happier and more fulfilled if you do one thing- Shut up and drive.

Monday Musings...

The Root.

Today's view from Pinole Shoreline. #friends #family #love #whatmatters

WHAT IS THE ROOT?

What

Is the

Root of all these

Words?

One thing: love.

But a love so deep and sweet

It needed to express itself

With scents, sounds, colors

That never before

Existed.

-Hafiz

Practicing Non-resistance.

You know how when little kids get puppies, they squeeze them so hard and don't want to let them go?  I am like that- I tend to hold on hard to the good things in life, sometimes too tightly that it can be suffocating.

I'm learning to hold on gently, loosen my grip- surrender.

I used to be quick to judge things, circumstances, events, and automatically label them as "good" or "bad."  Actually, I still do, but I am learning that swinging back and forth on the pendulum is exhausting.  Sometimes it's best to just settle in the middle, in that sweet spot, and observe without judgement.  Just let things be.

Observing, not judging... (taken at Point Lobos)

Surrender is not an act of giving up, but rather, of a giving over.  Unlike most may believe, non-resistance can be a strength.

Pretend you are holding a cup in each hand.  One cup is empty, and the other is full of water.  If you hold them and you're relaxed, you can feel a difference in the weight.  But as soon as you constrict and tighten your grip, you can't feel the difference in the weights as much.  Likewise, when you tighten up and tense up in life, you lose access to the inner resources that you need to discern what is in front of you; what's in your grasp.

Surrender is not about weakness, it is about wisdom.

Child's pose; a time to relax and surrender...

Non-resistence isn't necessarily a gift, an art or a talent- it is a practice- one that must be done with intentionality, observation and grace.  This is a practice that I am constantly cultivating in my life, as I learn to release expectations and relax.

It is only when I do this when I am able to discern the differences in the cups of water and choose correctly- allowing my lips to taste the pleasure and take a sweet sip of life and love.

The Space Between.

Sit silently still.

Pause- quiet the monkey mind.

Let's meet in the gap.

Fast Freddie. Sweaty Betty's.

Today's ride was one that really counted.  I told myself, "Write this one in the books- you're going to recall it in the future when you want to puke on the side of the road and you're tempted to get off your bike and walk it up the hill..."

We were greeting by the sunrise after climbing Grizzly Peak...

It was pretty much a culmination of some of hardest climbs I've done in the East Bay (Grizzly Peak, the 3 Bears backwards (which everyone knows is the harder route), and Pinehurst to Skyline, all bundled together under the guise of some race director's cruel sense of humor- naming it the "Fast Freddie Gran Fondo."  I was so terrified of this ride that I even skipped the kettlebell lunges and "legs day" in the gym this week just so I would have "Freddie Fresh Legs" for today.

You know how when you smell a certain perfume or cologne, all the memories come flooding back of that person who wore it?  The same thing happens with bike routes for me.  I remember who was my riding company, and certain parts of the road are almost time-stamped...I can recall exactly what we were talking about.

Revisiting these climbs was so good for me- just to see how far I've come since those times and also knowing deep in my heart (even though my legs may have argued otherwise) that I had been in that place of extreme fatigue before- slogging up some steep pitches, and had still managed to crest the hill and stay upright on my bike.

It's trusting not only those who believe you are strong enough to finish, but also trusting that faint "muscle memory" that remembers how you've been in this place of wanting to quit before, yet you just kept.on.pedaling.

I know in the world, many women are catty, backstabbing and resentful towards each other.  Instead of building each other up, they feel insecure and threatened and instead tear each other down.  Chris Rock once said, "Women would rule the world if they didn't hate each other so much." 

I am thankful to be surrounded with really quality, positive, inspiring, and grounded women.  They show me how you can still be feminine and still be strong.  My friend Michelle rides faster than 90% of the men I know.  She exudes a soft sensitivity in her calm nature, but it is matched with an inner tenacity that I find so appealing.  I look at her and think, "I want to be like that too." She told me from the beginning that I could do this ride and climb this much elevation.  I just had to believe in her, and more importantly, in myself and my capabilities.

Both of us rockin' the Betty Designs kits... #matchymatchy

It helps so much to have a solid woman role model who seeks the best for you and pushes you hard to see and realize your own strength.  As women, we need to empower each other. We need to challenge the stereotypes- it's cool to get a spa day, but even more cool to hop on a bike.  Instead of looking for a new outfit at the mall, look for new challenges that allow you to see yourself in a better light than the crappy fluorescent lights in the fitting rooms.

Saw this last week and it was replaying in my mind when the climbs got harder...

It's only when we get outside of our comfort zones and undertake the hard stuff when we can realize our own strength and potential.  The more this happens, the more momentum builds and translates to other areas- new paths are forged not only in sport, but in our lives.

And that, to me- is beautiful.

Rainbows and Sunshine.

Last year, I had someone tell me, "You know Julianne, I know you're Ms. Positivity- but life isn't always rainbows and sunshine. Sh*t happens. Life is cruel and people are mean."

I beg to differ.  Because if you look for the good, pretty soon your brain rewires itself and starts to scan your environment for the positive.  Two simple truths to remember- What you focus on, expands.  And what you appreciate, appreciates.  

And today, it really was all about rainbows and sunshine.

A reminder of hope on my morning commute...

Chasing the sunset on tonight's run...

"And forget not that the earth delights to feel your bare feet and the
winds long to play with your hair." -Kahlil Gibran

Two people this week asked me if I was in love.  There was some mention of some extra "pep in my step" and how I'm "glowing." This pretty much sums it up...

When you seek the good, you find it.  And when you stay open and positive, I promise you, there will always be an abundance of sunshine and rainbows.

The Myth of Self-sufficiency.

On Sunday, I was cresting the top of Dublin Canyon on my bike when something just didn't feel right.  The road felt bumpier than usual, and I looked down and saw that I had a flat on my front tire.  I was alone, and left my podcast running to keep me calm and from going into full-on freak-out mode.  Calmly, I removed the tire, ran my fingers along the tire to find any sharp object, replaced the tube, slipped the tire back on, and went to fill up the tube with my CO2 cartridge.  Everything was fine until I felt the CO2 escape from the side of the canister into the air- and not into my tire.  It reminded me of Chrissie Wellington's famous flat in Kona 2008, except that I didn't have cameras recording my break-down, and well, the World Championships wasn't on the line (fast-forward to the 2-minute mark).

Three cyclists passed me.  I kid you not.  I ended up flagging down another guy who was nice enough to pull over with a handpump and get my tire inflated enough for me to get home.  I was eternally grateful.

Once I was home, I decided to switch out my old tires for brand new tires.  It was fine, but as everyone knows, brand new tires are super difficult to get on since they lack the malleability of older tires.  I was successful with one, and the second tire I had major difficulty with.  I took a break, came back to it, and still was unable to get the final part into the rim.  To add fuel to the fire, the whole time I was paranoid that I was going to ruin my new acrylic gel manicure (priorities, people!).  My fingers were raw from the tire, I had tried using a towel to pad my hands, and I was literally at my wit's end.  It's these moments when it's easy to spiral down the rabbit hole of wishing I had the luxury of shouting, "Babe, do you mind helping me with this?"  Since I didn't have an extra pair of hands nearby, it was a frustrating situation for me.

But I was desperate.  I ended up asking a friend to come over to help me.  And he did, and was so gracious and we added some dishwashing soap to the rim to help slide the tire in.  It worked like a charm, and he was on his way. 

The whole experience made me realize how difficult it is for me to ask for help sometimes.  Single women, in particular, are constantly encouraged to be independent and self-sufficient.  We are told to go on solo vacations, travel around the world, take classes, and buy our own houses.  It is drilled into our heads that we shouldn't need a man to complete us.  I get it.  But if we focus all of our attention on being "whole," that doesn't leave a "whole" lot of room for anyone else.

I recently heard of Adam Newhouse's idea of the reciprocity circle.  His model was to take a group of 30 people- all successful artists, creatives, entrepreneurs, world leaders and world-shakers- and sit them together in a circle.  But rather than handing out their business cards, talking about about their websites or LinkedIn profile, instead, they were each required to step out and share what they specifically needed help with.  It could be anything- from "I'm looking for marketing support," to more specific requests- "I want to learn how to perform this specific dance style." By centering the intention around the notion of asking for help, this provided a space where people were allowed to be vulnerable and more human, and participants in the circle later said it was the most transformative experience.  Uncanny, synchronistic and amazing things occurred.  Across the board, every single 'ask' was met with an answer from someone within the circle that could offer specific assistance.

For me, it took putting on brand new tires to gain a brand new perspective.  Sometimes when we're stuck or stranded, we need to ask for help, and that's ok.  I've found that people are more than happy to show up and offer assistance.  Sometimes it just takes some help from a complete stranger to pump us up (figuratively, or in my case, literally), in order to get us rolling and on our way again. 

It is a beautiful truth after all- Ask and you shall receive.