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.