“Today, I see more people.. more woman.. than I have ever seen at a protest!”

Fists pump, claps, whistles, hollers. Cheers bellowed out all around me.

“Specifically, white woman… and this is wonderful… but, I have to ask, why now?”

A hush fell over the crowd, cheers overcome by the awkward tension created when asking people to come face to face with their privilege.

After walking for hours in the cold rain, my fingers had lost all color and feeling, my body was drenched and chilled to the core, and I was only planning to make a pit stop at the porta-potties before I trudged back across the city to my home. It was a somber day for me, throughout the march I had remained mostly silent — observing sadness, pain, fear, denial, anger — in the crowd around me. I was marching as an ally for my marginalized, exploited, discriminated, and oppressed sisters and brothers, for the protection of their rights, safety, health, and families. I was marching for myself, a woman and survivor of sexual abuse, coercive relationships, an eating disorder, and emotional traumas. Although I was moved by the strength of incredible citizens marching by my side, I also felt like a very tiny ant at the bottom of a very long and steep hill.

I wasn’t planning to stay for the speeches at the end of the march, my fingers were dangerously cold and my bones rattled with my shivers. The woman speaking at the end of the march had taken an aggressive stance towards the white women in the crowd. Instead of patting us on the back for standing up for what we believe in, she asked us to look deeper. She asked us to examine our privileges, to raise our voices, to join the resistance.

“Where were you for our Black Lives Matter rallies?” deafening silence.

“Or when we rallied for “Standing Rock?” utter stillness.

As I began walking away, I told myself it was because I was cold, not planning to stay for the speech anyway, and I already understood her reason for pointing out privilege. I repeated this to myself as she pled with the crowd that had turned away from her. I repeated this to myself as I walked the cold miles home, my fingers losing color and my legs throbbing from the cold. I kept repeating it to myself as the words haunted me throughout the evening I spent in my warm house, justifying my actions with sympathetic friends. And I kept repeating it for a week, until I finally called bullshit on myself.

I walked away from that woman because she was forcing me to examine something that was incredibly uncomfortable. While I have spent time investigating my white, cis-gendered, middle class, graduate-school-educated, able-bodied, heterosexual-tending, American identity, I have not been as vocal about my privilege within myself or my community as needs to be. Hell, in college I worked in public health and I sucked up as many women’s studies and sociology classes as I could. My intrigue and dedication to personal and community growth is abounding. My empathy, and ability to viscerally feel pain, sorrow, triggered-trauma-rage and fear of those around me is at times overwhelming. My dedication and knowledge on the subject does not excuse me from continuing to reflect on my own privilege.  This is a nice visual: 

This wasn’t the first time my privilege has been brought to my attention, halting me in my blind-walk through a self-centered life. Fortunately, brave individuals have graced me with priceless insight on my insensitive, unconscious, and offensive thoughts, words, and behavior. Of course, I like to think of myself as a caring, responsible, aware individual… Don’t we all? But, it is my duty as someone who is dedicated to the liberation of all individuals, regardless of gender identity, religion, economic status, ability level, sexual orientation, citizenship, education level, gender etc. to :

Swallow my pride.

Listen hard to those around me who have experienced oppression, discrimination, injustice due to their identity and/or background.

Examine my personal life circumstance, my privileges and my duty as an ally to ensure equality and liberation for all individuals

Acknowledge and give thanks to those who have stood up in the past for my current freedoms

Speak up when I see/hear/feel societal privilege taking place (media, in groups etc)

Continue to engage in events that push me out of my comfort zone to further evolve as  a human dedicated to change.

As I finally called myself out on my morning walk, I realized that to this day, after multiple wake up calls, I had a difficult time acknowledging my privilege. The woman speaking to us at the March was not trying to shame me. She wasn’t trying to divide our group or hurt me. She was simply doing the work that must be done to ensure equality of all individuals- forcing me to dive even deeper to see how I experience opportunities and services differently due to my identities and background.

“Holy *^&!!#*!!!”

I watch as my front wheel slides uncontrollably out from under me and I slam down on the icy pavement. Down here it is cold, hard, unforgiving. Tears well in my eyes. Physically fine, emotionally I am beat. A voice in my head torments me.

“You can’t do this anymore. It’s unsafe. You lose. You don’t know what you are doing. You keep falling. Just go home.” The fall is a metaphor of my life. The only thing I can count on is the path being slippery, winding, and full of the unexpected. A repressed sob bubbles up inside me and bursts out of my center.

“Everything hurts” I wail, gasping for air.

Within seconds, Ryan scoops my tangled and clipped-in body up from underneath my bike. Up to standing, he holds me. “You are safe. You’re ok.”

I can’t believe him. We are NOT safe. This is the opposite of safe. There is ice everywhere. We are halfway up a mountain. More ice could be lurking anywhere. It could get worse. It could be impossible to come back down. This is a horrible idea. If it weren’t mine, I would be mad at him. But it was my idea.

I look at him, underneath his layers of reflective and waterproof gear. How is he so brave? He, even more than me, knows how bad falling can be. Between the two of us, we have spent a good portion of the past year recuperating from nasty bike crashes. Why is the fear not eating at him like it is me?

I look up the hill. Ice. I look down the hill. More ice. What was I thinking??

I know exactly what I was thinking. Deep down, underneath the layers of fear, lives an adventurous spirit. A spirit that rejoices at the thought of sunrise, heart-pounding activities, new friends, incredible views, dancing.

“Come on babe, we will go slow. Falling is part of it, but we are ok.”

I look at him incredulously. Fear returns abruptly, I furrow my eyebrows. Where does he get these ideas that we are ok. That we will be ok. This is freaking scary. I am not convinced.

“I can’t do it anymore” I cry. I have to go home, but I don’t know how.

His forehead presses against mine and he holds my hands. “It was just this patch. We can do it. It will get better.” I realize I have nowhere else to go, so I lift my bike up and hoist myself onto the saddle.

Sniffling, I murmur, “Ok. here we go.” Back on our bikes, we continue our journey to the top of Tabor. I’m a sucker for dancing, and a new friend promised a dance party at the top. So, here we go. A few minutes later we encounter more ice. Trembling, more strange noises emerge from my throat.

“Waaawwaaaaawoooow.” Echoes through the fog remind me how alone we are. Ryan plants his feet on the ground and waits for me to regain my courage. We keep riding. In the distance, we see cyclist figures emerging through the fog.  

The promised dance party commences. My tension, doubt, anxiety, regret melt away as I shake it to “Rehab” by Amy Winehouse.

“I say no, no, no.” I do the Val-move, a weird hip-shaking, shoulder-shimmy, one-foot thing. I don’t know where this move came from, but it sure feels good. Undeniable joy floods me, a smile breaks across face, daring me to be anything but happy.

Now we are twirling to “Are you gonna be my girl?” My adventurous and joy-filled spirit is very alive. I attempt a hair flip, but with weight of my helmet I knock myself slightly off balance. I keep grooving.

Our fingers throb, pulsing between numb and painful. It is time to return home, go to work. We gather our bikes and begin our slow descent down the icy mountain. My confidence back, my smile irrepressible, my heart is full of gratitude for new friends and true love, helping me find my happy place, admist the fog, rain, and ice.

“Holy *^&!!#*!!!”

A familiar feeling, I watch as my front wheel slides uncontrollably out from under me and I slam down on the icy pavement. Unable to stop himself on the sheet of ice, I hear Ryan crash, sliding towards me. Together, we lie twisted under our bikes. Only this time, we are laughing. We are ok. Falling is a part of it. We pick ourselves back up, return to our saddles, and complete the icy descent.

Inside, warm, drinking coffee, I reflect on our morning adventure. Why did the first fall cut so much deeper than the second?

Inner Strength Part 5: Reflection

Reflection is by far the most important part of self-growth. Often, the biggest lessons come during the quietest hours. Through a consistent practice of self-reflection, growth becomes natural.

At one point in my life, I thought the best way for me to become smarter, faster, healthier, richer, and more loved was through doing… a lot!

If my grades subpar- study more!  

If my run times slow’ish'- run more!

If my cholesterol high- kale more!

If my bank account low-work more!

If my relationships bumpy- express myself more!

The problem with responding by doing more? We don’t have time to figure out why our initial attempt was not so successful. Sometimes, our results are hindered by the way in which we are attempting to achieve our desired outcome.

I didn’t need to study more, I needed to study in a quiet place, with visual study aids, first by myself, and then in groups.

I didn’t need to run more, but I did need to run more intervals at a higher pace.

I didn’t need to eat more kale, but I did need to eat less processed sugar.

I didn’t need to work more, I needed to spend less money on clothes and have a dedicated budget.

I didn’t need to talk more, I needed to listen more (surprise!!!).

In a frantic, goal-oriented state of mind, the initial solutions seemed common sense. I was trapped in a cycle of action.

When sheer luck allowed my hectic life to slow, I understood the true reason for my results, and what alternatives would work better. Now, I don’t allow luck to be the only reason that life slows down. Meditation, journaling, and goal reflection are important components of my routine. By stilling my mind, free-writing my innermost thoughts, and engaging in pointed reflection on my goal status, I am able to work through barriers with more ease.

Curious? Try it out. Sit for a minimum of 5 minutes, focusing on only breathing. Then, thought dump everything in your mind, don’t judge, just write. You can burn it later. Get it out! Finally, write down your desired outcome, how you are going about achieving it, and what is getting in your way. You will surprise yourself with your inner knowledge, I promise :) Here’s to reflection!

At The Om Cycle, we treat the whole patient. The way we see it, symptoms you experience throughout your entire body are related. Our systematic approach to evaluate your alignment and movement patterns provides us with an objective way to improve your health and wellbeing.

When developing a personalized therapy plan, your objective measurements, lifestyle habits, and goals are taken into account in order to provide exercises individually tailored to your needs. The toolkit you develop in your time with us will help you for years to come. You will develop skills to reposition your alignment on your own when you feel “off.” You will learn how to strengthen gently in order to maintain good muscle balance. And finally, your performance will increase because every aspect of your body will be synchronized, working equally and efficiently.

Our clients are often surprised that once they begin treatment with us, many physiological issues in their life resolve. For example, by performing our exercises, you likely will experience increased breathing efficiency, decreased chance of incontinence, fewer headaches, and improved body awareness. Other potential benefits include decreased jaw pain, decreased snoring, decreased vision issues.

The Om Cycle holds true to our core values. We provide accessible, sustainable treatment for your body, mind, and spirit, which is centered around your goals and lifestyle. We delight in being a part of our care team and look forward to connecting with you.

We all know that keeping a positive attitude is key to success in life.

"In every day, there are 1,440 minutes. That means we have 1,440 daily opportunities to make a positive impact.”

— Les Brown

"Perpetual optimism is a force multiplier."

— Colin Powell

“Attitude is a little thing that makes a big difference.”

— Winston Churchill

But what about when it’s really tough? I mean, REALLY tough… So tough that it’s stifling. I hit a low patch last spring. Between:

moving 6 times in 6 months,

having over half of my belongings stolen from a car-break in the midst of moving

getting hit by a car on my bike the week before my Final Doctoral Presentation

feeling the hard core effects of burn out from graduate school research

using every free waking moment to study for my Boards Licensing Exam,

working full time at an in-patient hospital with high emotions, trauma and stress in intensive care units and acute recover floors, AND

feeling the effects of my concussion making my brain sluggish and easily fatigued at the most critical point in my studies coping with;

Life felt like an uphill, icy battle that I was trying to summit with fluffy socks and lead weights in my back pack… One step forward, 5 slides backwards.

I’m guessing, if you’re reading this, you have been here too. Although our specific experiences are diverse, this feeling of deep fatigue, haunting despair, and taunting hopelessness is common in high-stress environments.

The day after I cut the tip of my finger off opening a can of beans too quickly, I was holding my pulsating finger, pleading for the pain to dissipate and my skin to stop bleeding before I began working with my patients. Overwhelming feelings of “poor val” flooded my mind as I began my journey to work early on a Saturday.

I know enough about myself that if I enter a room with a foggy and fussy mind-state, I am likely going to rub off on the people around me. Even higher priority than passing boards, and mending my finger was having a positive influence on the people in a state of healing I would connect with in that day.

So I forced myself to dig deeper than ever before, and shift my mindset. At this point I was pretty glum, even the birds chirping were bothering me because they sounded so out of tune. With each step I took towards the hospital, I would state something I was grateful for. My thinking being: if I could come up with several hundred things I am grateful for, I will be a slightly more positive mindset to share with people.

I started with the simple things:

Step 1: I’m thankful for my shoes.

Step 2: I’m thankful that I live close enough to work to walk.

Step 3: I’m thankful I didn’t cut my finger all the way off.

Step 4: ack…. loosing balance… What else am I thankful for? If only those d*** birds would quit chirping I could actually think straight and know what I am grateful for….wavering stance Ah fine, I’m thankful for that flower.

Step 5: geeze, at this rate how will I ever get to work on time. Fine, I am thankful that flower, too. Step 6: I’m thankful for …Golden Gate Park

Step 7: I’m thankful for my mom

Step 8: My dad.

Step 9. My sister.

Step 10: my phone that I call them on

Suddenly my step rate was increasing and I was hopping right along to work….

…..Step 119: I’m thankful for the sunshine

Step 120: The avocado I will eat for lunch

Step 121: My brain…..

The steps continued to fall and suddenly I felt a smile forming on the sides of my mouth.

…..Step 434: I’m thankful for getting hit by a car, and the lesson to slow down.

Step 435: Losing my belongings and realizing I don’t need as much as I thought I did to be happy.

Step 436: The platelets in my blood which helped my finger stop bleeding.

Step 437: The intact nervous system I have that lets me know when I am in danger.

Step 438: Having yet another roof over my head at night.

Step 439: My understanding of concussions, that this brain state is temporary…..

By the time I got to work I was filled with happiness, true, authentic pleasure and gratitude. Even though I had to bang it out of myself, I suddenly hit a point of no return where I realized, I was actually grateful for everything that had happened and was continuing to happen to me. Whether it brought pleasure or hard-earned lessons, it was enriching my life. There was not a lack of purpose or direction in my  life, and so far nothing I could not get past.

Building a strong gratitude practice is so important in building inner strength. Recognizing the things, people, lessons in your life, that have brought meaning and purpose allows you to be more aware of all of the things that are going right in your life. By focusing on these, you can see how challenges and set-backs are only training you to handle adversity, maybe even with a smile on. Research shows that the simple act of writing 3 things a day that you are grateful for can lead to improved health and well-being. Seems like a win-win to me :)

If you have comments or techniques in building gratitude into your everyday routine, please share!

Namaste

“Let us rise up and be thankful, for if we didn’t learn a lot today, at least we learned a little, and if we didn’t learn a little, at least we didn’t get sick, and if we got sick, at least we didn’t die; so let us all be thankful.”

— Buddha

True pictures, once I shifted my mindset I found that the places I was studying were pretty rad!

One a.m. I arrived home from my shift at a local bar. I kicked off my black shoes, black shirt, black pants, and black apron, and collapsed on my bed with my computer. All of 19 years old, my soul ached. I was searching for direction, focus, purpose. I didn’t know where to look, but I figured the internet probably would be a good place to start.

Mindlessly clicking around, I suddenly was glaring at the answer to all of my despair, the thing that would help me fix my problems and find happiness once and for all. A marathon. This wasn’t the first (or last) time I made a rash decision in the middle of the night. A few more clicks and a few hundred bucks later, I was officially running the Denver Marathon. Direction, focus purpose. Check, check, check. Now I would sleep.

When I woke, my stomach churned. What was I thinking?! I put on my running shoes and shuffled out the door, sure that I could muster the strength for my first day of training. Last night it seemed like a good idea. I got down the street and felt like my lungs were going to collapse. My hips ached, my heart was pounding and sweat was pouring out of more orifices than I knew I had. Shuffle, shuffle shuffle. The temperature seemed to rise exponentially. At first seventy degrees I would have bet money it was now at least 120 degrees. Record heat in Colorado at 6 am!

When I got home the thermometer read 75 degrees. Wow… I guess my internal thermometer wasn't the most trustworthy. I limped to the computer and re-routed my run on walkjogrun, sure that the hour of torture would surmount to an impressive distance. No. I had run a measly four miles. Only 22.2 more to work up to. I felt doomed. Suddenly my direction, focus and purpose all felt like a really bad, middle of the night, teenage decision. Well, if nothing else at least my mom would be proud of me.

So I shuffled in to wake my mom up and tell her my news.

“Mom, guess what I did?!”

“What sweetheart??” she asked, blinking her eyes open

.

“I signed up for a marathon!” I beamed, trying to hide my fear. Her smile turned in to concern.

“Can you get your money back?”

WHAT? That wasn’t what I was expecting. My mom ALWAYS believed in me. Now it was up to me to prove that this middle of the night idea was great.

“No way! I shot back. This is my dream, my destiny! There was nothing else that would fulfill me! I would  run this marathon and reclaim my life! With that, I shot up and went back to the trusty internet to print out a training plan.

The following four months were gnarly. Blisters formed into volcanoes on my feet, erupting with liquid. My thighs chaffed so badly they bled. The long runs resulted in more runs, if you catch my drift. Nothing glamorous about the training. As a college sophomore, finally out of the dorm, the first thing I wanted to do on a Friday night was go to bed so I could run in the morning before it got to unbearably hot. Then, after 18+ mile runs, the last thing I wanted to do on a Saturday was party. So off to bed early again, in order to muster energy for working and studying on Sunday.

It went on like this, day after day, week after week, month after month.

Amazingly, my middle of the night idea led me to an important lesson about inner strength. One day while running at 5am before my classes and work, I realized that a small inner fire had been lit inside of me, helping me float out of bed and tie up my shoes and hit the pavement hours before the sun would rise. The fire burned steadily, feeding my spirit. Each step I took forward, fulfilling my training plan, added to that fire. Soon, I had a fire inside of me roaring so ferociously that nothing could stop me.

On October 18th, 2009 I toed the starting line for the Denver Marathon. I was so anxious I thought I was going to die. But the gun fired and just like that I was off. I settled into my rhythm, and soon, one step after the next, I did what I knew how to do.

Plod plod plod I went. Even when my legs felt like noodles, even when my vision started to blur, even when my senses became numbed and all I could feel or hear or smell or see was my heart beating, pulsing, blazing. I ran. (or plodded). Until the finish line. And then I collapsed in my sister’s arms. My mom, Aunt, and best friends were there at the finish line. They carried me home. To this day, my mom and I still laugh at her response to my crazy idea. She remains to be one of my greatest supports and loves me through all of the middle of the night messes I get myself into.

I write all of this because it is important to share stories of personal growth. When we overcome obstacles that seem at some point insurmountable, we not only empower ourselves, but our community. The more barriers we break down, physically, emotionally, spiritually, mentally, the more we are able to live a full, free life.

One of the guiding principles of yoga- Niyama- is Tapas, were we seek our inner fire through focused discipline. We can do this through acts of service (seva) or for our personal practice (sadhana). We are invited to define what our most important goals are, and make meaningful steps towards achieving them. Part of the process of reaching our destiny is burning off that which does not serve us (including perfectionism, obsessions, self doubt, anxiety, etc.)This way, we live with austerity and our purpose becomes more clearly defined as our tapas helps us rid us of impurities blocking us from living out our true purpose.

Endurance sports can be one area that many people find their inner fire, providing direction, focus and meaning in their life. It is of no surprise, really, that during my most confusing times in my life, I have grasped at triathlons and marathons to provide a clear direction for my actions. Although my inner fire no longer fuels long distance running, however it does fuel other sadhana and seva practices. Every time I plop down on my meditation cushion my tapas grows stronger for developing a clear, peaceful and loving mind. With each thought that runs through my mind, begging for attention, that I release in to the stream of consciousness, my direction and focus becomes more clear.

What are your experiences with tapas? What actions have helped you find discipline and clarity towards reaching your goals?

Thanks so much for reading. Namaste.

For a good portion of my life I existed as a huge ball of energy. Full of life, excitement, ideas, hopes, desires, love, sometimes fear, remorse, sadness, anger, jealousy as well, I was swayed easily by my interactions, emotions, thoughts, and life situation. For a long time I thought, “this is just me, I wear my heart on my sleeve.”

One day I was discussing with a wise friend and colleague how drained I was feeling after a day of working. I cared so deeply about my patients and I felt that I was taking on pain and sadness they might confide in me. I wanted more than anything to be there for them, but soon I too was feeling weary and glum. She suggested I begin grounding myself before working with patients.

Becoming a pillar of support for others to heal can only happen if you yourself are centered, stable and feeling safe.

After connecting with your breath- allowing your mind and body become one- we must also connect to the environment around us. Thus, this is the second component of building inner strength.There are a ton of ways to center yourself, I will share my techniques.

1) Start by connecting with the surface you are on, whether it be a yoga mat, chair, bicycle pedals, car seat, meditation cushion or something else. Feel the pressure from the surface on your body, evenly from right to left, front to back. Do not rush this, take a few minutes to feel the sensations in your toes, soles of your feet or bum.

2) Visualize yourself becoming wide, heavy and supported on this surface. (If this brings up body image issues, you DESERVE to take up space, you are valuable, worthy and changing the world with all of the beautiful molecules you are made up of, so take up this space proudly). Notice how the surface meets you and holds you.

3) Imagine walking down a beautiful staircase. Down, down, down. With each step down, your energy dropping, downwards. This does not mean you are sleepy or tired, it means energy can be used in a more clear, focused and stable way.

4) Create an image of a tree, growing roots deep down in to the earth. Let the roots take whatever form they may, knowing they are the strength that holds the tree up, provides it with nutrients, and allows it to withstand the winds, rain, birds, and tree houses.

These steps can be done anywhere and require no external tools. There are many other techniques you can do if you have more time, including burning incense, remembering the people you love and reaching out to talk with them or thank them for being in your life, taking an epsom salt bath, swimming, walking barefoot in nature and meditating.

I would love to hear your techniques or experiences with centering yourself.

This week, I focused on the concept of inner strength with my clients. Cultivating the ability to be strong, through concentrated efforts within our body, allows us to move through life more fully, and more safely. Inner strength can be developed and practiced throughout all activities, including but not limited to: sitting, standing, walking, cycling, running, swimming, hiking, chores around the house and resting. This week I will address how to build inner strength throughout every day movements. Of course, I will begin with breathing.

1) Begin by following your breath, in and out. (Let yourself find a comfortable position to start in if this is your first time) Notice your chest rise to let more air in, and fall when air is expelled. Spend some time here, just focusing on each breath. You might decide to pause in between each inhale and exhale. Here, you can witness the stillness and peace in this very moment.

2) Now, bring your awareness to your surroundings. You may be sitting on a cushion, standing barefoot on green grass, in a warrior two on a yoga mat, gently running through a forest, swimming in the ocean, crunched up on a crowded bus, it doesn’t matter. Notice the sounds around you, small and large. Notice the things you can see. Notice the things you feel, the support holding you up, the gentle rhythm of your breath, the texture of your clothes, the vibrations of the earth. Focus your attention intensely on all of the sensations around you as they begin to blur together. Soon, you will feel safe, stable, supported as a cocoon forms around you.

3) Begin to make your breath work for you. Starting on your exhale, feel the natural tightening of your deep abdominal muscles as you lengthen your exhale and hold it for a few seconds (like you are blowing up a balloon). This engages muscles in your tummy which attach to your back to help it stay supported throughout movements. On your inhale, avoid actively raising your shoulders to let more air in, just allow your chest to rise as it will with an inhale.With this pattern, you are strengthening the diaphragm, internal obliques and transverse abdominals, allowing breathing to return to a natural state. You will become more efficient here, requiring less breaths per minute and feeling more calm, nourished and clear.

This exercise might take 5-10 minutes, however the concepts can be carried throughout your whole day. By focusing on mindful breathing, you can feel supported by your surroundings, aware of your environment, and sure that this steady breath within you will carry the nutrients inside of you to continue your work.

Many Eastern traditions focus on breathing as a healing modality. Altering breath patterns has the power to change our emotions, our responses to the world around us, and our physical strength. Breathing shallow, with limited exhale and exaggerated inhale, can lead to pain all over our body and mind.

So often I hear people say “I have a difficult time getting enough air in,” and I respond with “it is time to focus on your exhale.” The diaphragm is a muscle which sits under the ribcage. On our inhale it moves down, allowing more air to enter our lungs. On our exhale it domes up, helping old air to leave our lungs. Our ribcage assists this motion by moving in (like a corset). If this dome action does not occur, the next inhale is going to be pretty tough because the diaphragm did not have time to move up and expel air, so bringing more air in can only really happen by raising our shoulders up or extending our back to try to make our lungs bigger this way. Thus, we must focus on the exhale.

Remember, your body is an amazing instrument. It can heal itself of many things if given an environment to rest and recover. Steadying your mind, using your breath to calm you and make you more stable and efficient, is the first step to creating inner strength.

A cycle is defined as an occurrance which repeats itself, over and over. Often, clear beginnings and ends are difficult to find within the beautiful spiral of seamless ebb and flow.

I realize I have been waiting for the "right time"-  a clear beginning- to start writing blog posts. I expected a definitive time for the blogging world to invite me in, to assure me what I have to share is meaningful, to pat my back and cheer me on. There will be no time that feels like a beginning here, in this cycle of learning, creating and sharing... To me, the beauty of a blog is the transparency, relatability, and informality.

The reason for starting a blog to support and document my ventures in teaching yoga, supporting cyclists with bike fits, and contributing to the health and wellbeing of physical therapy clients is to enhance my own understanding of lessons, and share with others. It is my passion to help individuals of all walks of life to enhance their physical, mental, emotional, spiritual wellbeing.

Sometimes my teachings are anatomical, physiological, skill-based. Sometimes they are professional, sometimes relational, sometimes spiritual. Whatever it may be, I would like a place to pour out some of the lessons I gain, in hopes to help you live a fuller, happier life.

"Riders in the drops... GO!" As soon as I take my hand off the railing my entire headset yanks down the velodrome and I overcorrect to right myself. Heart hammering, relief spreads through my body as I realize I avoided an impossibly embarrassing fall at the start line, but the only way to stay upright now is to keep pedaling. Minutes earlier I was not sure I would be racing- I missed warmup and haven't been on a track bike since a beginner session four months ago. Some incredibly impulsive conversation between Ryan and I as the announcer invited the Cat 4/5 Women to the starting line led me to the back of the line of racers where I frantically attempted to clip my mud-caked cleats into his sleek pedals whilst maintaining a death grip on the railing... As I begin to gain some speed, my body relaxes and my steering steadies a little bit. I look up only to see all of the other racers half a lap in front of me at a relaxed "neutral pace." While I was fumbling to clip in, the announcer had said something about staying together during the first lap. So much for that! I give it my best effort to catch them but no chance. The announcer calls out "We have to do another neutral lap ladies, stay together!" Gee whiz... I can't even keep up for the neutral lap. This is going to be an interesting race. After I finally catch the group a new problem arises as I realize these banks are much more aggressive than the ones at the velodrome in San Jose. Maneuvering in a tight group is so far out of my comfort zone it is laughable. All I can muster is to keep pedaling fast enough to not tip over. Every corner I turn I head straight up the bank, losing all my momentum. Then I slowly drift back down the bank as I celebrate surviving another one of those death traps and give it everything I've got on the straightaway until the next turn where I shoot straight back up the bank. Again and again I repeat this. After several laps like this I hear someone from the sideline scream "stay in the red on the turns." An angel! This advice curbed my squirrely riding enough for me to find the back of the group of women for the remaining laps and ride with them at a far steadier and easier pace. The next thing I know, bells are ringing and the race is over. I survived, barely.

As I unclip and return his bike, Ryan unduly congratulates me. In a search for water we find rootbeer floats. We are in an Omnium event, a series of 3 races. I figure, I survived the first one and who knows what will happen during the second, so I better live it up while I am still alive. The combination of 100 degree weather and a cement track makes the sugary treat go down far too easily. The announcer is calling Ryan's category up and he heads back for his second race. I bask in the sun, I still have at least ten minutes until my race. This time I will get a bit of a warm up in. Because I am borrowing Ryan's bike, I wait until he kicks bootay in his race and then I pedal it out for a few minutes. Beaming to myself after exiting the warm-up circle and safely grabbing the railing at the top of the velodrome to place myself behind the other women racers I hear the announcer asking something. "What is the rider in the back named?" Oh my god, he is asking me?? "Val!" I scream back. "Val, this time when I say the first lap is a neutral lap, you gotta keep up! Ok?" Suddenly my bike is swiveling around again and I almost slide down the velodrome again. "OK!!" I call back. With that, our race had started. I attempted to keep with the group but still was pretty far behind in the neutral lap. Oh well, baby steps I think. With each lap around I am feeling more comfortable, teetering less, pushing a bit harder. This race is a point per lap, 15 total. Seeing as I am still alive, I decide I might as well give it my best shot. Positioning myself up the track from the racers in front of me, I push as hard as I can, passing a few. That darn turn comes again and I feel my bike wanting to shoot straight up the bank again. Holding tight to the handlebars, I use that angel's advice and hold my line. This strategy is great! Much easier to keep my speed up, I pass a few more racers. The next thing I know I am in front of the pack, trailing one racer. True grit here, I pedal, pedal, pedal....Breathing steady and hard, I finally have found my flow. No amount of heat or fatigue can stop me now! Bells ringing, the race is over. I slow myself down and hop off the bike. Someone comes at me with $5, apparently while I was racing the announcer was screaming at me to not give up. "This girl's faster than she looks, if she even tries to keep up she gets $5."

Celebrating victories, in a variety of forms. 

Cooling down at the river :) 

Coasting along an idilic bike path in San Francisco -Chrissy Field flying by, wind tickling my face, wheels effortlessly spinning- a perma-smile is plastered on my face. In the background I hear waves crashing, dogs barking, children giggling, and my best friends bonding over stories of adventure, personal transformation and dates gone awry. Today we have gathered for my "last ride" in San Francisco. Bittersweet emotions roll through my mind as I reflect on the tremendous effects the cycling community has had on my physical, mental and emotional well-being. I moved across the country 3 years ago, a carload full of my possessions, a (very) vague idea of what to expect from grad school, no idea whatsoever what to expect from city life, and most of all, an unquenchable thirst for adventure. The first few months were a roller coaster ride that no one warned me about- and I forgot to buckle in. More life squeezed in to a single day than in to a month of my previous life. From waking up to going to bed I saw, heard and learned more than I ever imagined possible. Before I knew it, I was elbow deep in cadaver dissection, training for a marathon, trying desperately to learn the fastest and flattest bike routes to transport my belongings and myself to and from three campuses across the city.  I had mastered the art of studying during every waking hour: accidentally scaring people with my anatomy books in coffee shops, analyzing gait during my training runs through Golden Gate Park, and practicing manual muscle testing and blood pressure reading with my roommates in to the wee hours of the night. Even though I was surrounded by more people than ever before, I felt desperately alone. For the first time in my life I was separated from my family, the Colorado mountains, fresh air and open space. For the first time, I found myself not understanding the language spoken and written in many of the markets and restaurants in my neighborhood. For the first time I was not within a few miles of someone I had known from childhood, I didn't know any of the streets or surrounding cities everyone referred to in conversation, I sat in class and felt as if we were speaking a different language because almost everything was spoken at the speed of light and longer than the alphabet.  For the first time I didn't have a car to transport myself, I couldn't see more than one hundred feet in front of myself thanks to the infamous SF fog, my long blonde hair wouldn't stay straight if my life depended on it, and for the first time in my life I felt deeply scared. Six months in, and one marathon down, my mind and feet begged for an alternative past time. City biking, albeit exhilarating and physically challenging, did not help me disconnect from the hustle and bustle from my daily schedule. I yearned to explore the famous bike routes in the Bay Area, to get out from the fog of the city, and to meet people who didn't consider talking about dead bodies good lunch conversation (No offense PT friends, I love you :) ). So I did what any lonely person in San Francisco must do: took it online. Meet-up groups flooded my browser, I clicked and clicked and clicked. Everything sounded extraordinary. RSVP, RSVP, RSVP. My solution to loneliness and nature deprivation, I ignored my nervousness and hopped on my bike to meet new people and see beautiful things. Within the first meet-up ride, I had a new group of welcoming friends to join on bike adventures. Together we planned more rides, overnight trips and gatherings throughout the city. A few more rides and my soul had found a home in San Francisco. My world opened up, more beauty, more daring spirits, more exploration, more laughs shared. From sunrise rides for coffee, to weekend long trips along the coast with tents strapped to our bikes, to costumed nighttime bike rides illuminated by city lights and sometimes sprinkled with beer hydration stops, anytime I was on my bike I felt at home. A thought crossed my mind at bike party one night- The beauty of cycling is it creates a connection between individuals-no matter what we look like, how we dress, how fancy our bike, how many miles we have logged, how fast we pedal-we are united in sharing the joy of a simple yet enormously joyful machine. 

I can't explain the magic of bikes adequately,  but this community "gets it" and thus, "gets me."  Over the years my legs have adjusted to the hills in this city, my sweat threshold increased (of which my patients should be thankful...) and my navigation skills have SLIGHTLY improved. My bike family has grown and my love for riding remains infinite. As I continue to glide along the path past Marina Green, my friends still happily chattering, I am filled with the truest form of happiness. The cycle of friendship, beginning, growing, and expanding to new friendships. Although this is my "last ride" in SF (for now), my heart is content knowing the people I have shared the ups and downs on bikes and life with for the last three years will continue on, sharing more wonderful moments on bikes together and with new adventurous spirits. All of the fear and loneliness from years ago was released by this strong community, and for that I will be eternally grateful.

After almost a week without a phone, I found myself agitated, uneasy, and in the depths of one of my biggest pity parties yet. My instant connection to the digital world was abruptly severed after a poorly planned wardrobe mixed with a magical evening out on the town in with some of my favorite people, (and perhaps one too many drinks) resulted in my phone dancing off with someone who promptly made their way to Jack in the Box and then to a Shell station, all courtesy of my best friend's credit card. Ugh. 

My mounting frustration for the inconvenience of this loss peaked when I realized that without the constant bombardment of reminders from my apps telling me: The weather-hour by hour-for the next ten days, where I need to be- at what time- and for how long, how many steps I have taken-today-yesterday-last week-last year- and the number of flights for which those steps have propelled me, where my friends have been riding their bikes -and who is sending kudos to me for my most recent PR, what my friends think of Prince's death- or what they ate for breakfast-or how awesome their vacation looks right about now, what time yoga is and the ultra-convenient and commitment binding- "book my class feature"... I felt lost, disconnected and anxious. 

As embarrassing as this all is to admit, this week has been super annoying without my trusty iPhone6. Until I somewhat un-intentially flung myself in to a bike ride with the Fat Cake Club (a San Francisco based cycling group that I really have no business riding with cause they are crazy fast...but it was early, I hadn't had my coffee yet, and someone promised coffee at the end of some hills....so I did it anyways) did I realize that my frustration was immediately alleviated when my heart was pumping so hard I'm sure there was a jackrabbit in my chest and a lobster pinching my hamstrings to avoid spinning backwards down a hill I forgot to downshift to go up... 

I'm kind of kidding. The ride was a wake-up call in multiple ways: 1. I f*&^ing love pedaling it out hard with other people who f*&^ing love to work it too. 2. The sunrise is much sweeter when just moments before you weren't quite sure you would actually live to see it because that hill was so damn steep 3. I have all I need to make me happy, already. 

Without my phone, I am left to my own personal navigation skills (heaven help me), my memory to help me tick through my to-do list, my muscles to tell me if they have taken an appropriate number of steps for the day, my heart and intuition to tell me how my friends are feeling and what they are thinking, and my lovely sense of temperature and vision to tell me the weather currently and predict it in the next few hours. Without my phone I am less likely to sit on the couch thinking about where to ride, if I should ride, how fast I rode, and how fast they rode. Without my phone I am more likely to be in the moment, in tune with my body, my feelings, my sensations, and the world around me. Sometimes this is painful; I don't have an escape from reality, immediate gratification from constantly checking notifications, virtual validation that I am indeed succeeding today.

So why all of this on Earth day? My bike helped me learn I was suffering from a  disconnection with the physical and spiritual world and masking it with constant sense of virtual connection through a material item. This challenge has helped me see my reliance on my iPhone and the importance of taking a break from technology to tune in to what I really, really need. My health, a bike to maintain it, some coffee to add some flare and energy, my friends to share the ups and downs and twists and turns of life and ultimately, nature to continuously humble, enthrall, encourage, and calm me. With that, I am fulfilled. Happy Earth Day :) 

Today is a big day! It is the birthday of my absolute favorite cyclist!!

It has been a month since my accident, and I would be lying if I said I'm back to normal. In fact, I will never be back to "normal" because that wake-up call was too close, too painful, and too real to ever go back to normal. Not only did the accident itself shake me, the timing of it was right before the start of my final physical therapy rotation as a student. I am working in a hospital on several different floors, allowing me to see individuals who have sustained life altering traumas, surgeries, or medical complications. At first, these scenarios devastated me. The pain I felt for these people and their families seemed far beyond what I could bear. With every patient I saw close to the end of their life, I thought, "How was I so lucky?" And "Why can't I help them more? They don't deserve this..."

Scar gel and sunscreen are working wonders!

Undoubtedly more emotionally fragile than before, one morning during chart review I felt tears welling up inside of me as I grieved immensely for the life situation of one patient I planned to see in ICU. I wondered how I would get through 8 weeks in this setting if I felt like crying before even seeing any patients! Inside, a voice screamed, "You have to be stronger. You are lucky to be here, now make it count. Just suck it up and do your job." I continued the reprimand myself following a(nother) cooking accident where I nearly sliced my finger off. "How could I CONTINUE to be so careless? I should have already learned my lesson! If you weren't so tired all the time you could wake up and make your lunch on time...You deserve this pain if you cannot follow your own advice to be mindful, in the moment, careful..." It wasn't until Ryan knocked some sense in to me, "You do not deserve this pain," that I realized the extreme guilt I was holding for the bike accident, for the cooking mishap, for not being able to help my patients more. The emotional impact of a concussion is very real. Curious about concussion symptoms? With any loved one or patient of mine, I would remind them they likely will undergo a change in emotions, they might have slowed thinking, and increased fatigue. These are NORMAL concussion symptoms, and you have to be patient as your brain is healing.

My little CJ sent the sweetest care package... Now, every morning , I squirt myself with a Pep Talk! 

My mind frantically grasps at fleeting memories, trying to piece together reality. My attempt to open my right eye unsuccessful and painful, I decide to objectively assess the situation. Throwing the covers off hurts: my neck is stiff; moving my head even a little creates throbbing and pulsing pain all around my skull, and the scrapes on my elbows and knees are sensitive to even the lightest touch. When my feet hit the floor I immediately remember the hematoma from my sprained ankle.  Easy does it... Hobbling to the bathroom, the coffee pangs hit. Coffee always makes my headaches better.... At first, my reflection makes me sick to my stomach. My face is puffy, as if I had been submerged in water for hours. The swelling around my eye is at least half an inch. The road rash, slightly bleeding bright red,  brings color to my otherwise pasty cheeks. I lift my chin, more road rash and a couple of stitches... Suddenly dizzy, I steady myself on the bathroom counter, promising myself coffee soon. Taking a deep breath, I pull back the gauze from my forehead. It strikes me how foreign my forehead feels, if it weren't for the familiar reflection I would be convinced I was touching someone else. Under the ointment and carefully placed bandages, a line of spiraled sutures tie up my forehead and perfectly line my eyebrow. Was Harry Potter's scar on his right forehead? I hope so... I look deep into those big brown eyes, holding back tears. They tell the story my mind hasn't been able to put together yet. Yesterday was a close call. Caught up in the day-to-day responsibilities and adventures, I tend to lead my life like a wild woman: "Sevens are extroverted, optimistic, versatile, and spontaneous. Playful, high-spirited, and practical, they can also misapply their many talents, becoming over- extended, scattered, and undisciplined. They constantly seek new and exciting experiences, but can become distracted and exhausted by staying on the go. They typically have problems with impatience and impulsiveness."   (Curious about yours, I highly recommend this personality test. I have never felt so understood by a test in my life ;) ) I live my life for adventure: Typically racing from one activity to the next, excited about so many things I sometimes run myself ragged. But not to worry, after another cup of coffee, I am ready for more! I love my friends, I love my life, I try to love my responsibilities! I want to learn, I want to see new things, I want to understand different perspectives. If asked whether I would prefer a "good" or "interesting" experience, I undoubtedly choose "interesting." This personality of mine has granted me with a beautiful, full, exciting life, however it has also caused problems.  It has been brought to my attention that when I don't plan details for outings, arrive late, forget important things like bike lights (or helmets and stop signs), things can go very wrong. Suddenly, my reflection is swaying up and down, twisting, side to side. Blinking hard to steady myself, I thank my dark brown eyes for holding the depth and wisdom of this experience. Yesterday was a close call, and a critical lesson. Life is precious. No matter how intoxicating the thrill of new experience may be, I am not invincible. The reminder, forming on my forehead, will stay with me forever. Pause. Breath in. Breath out. Enjoy this moment as it is. Be thankful for right now. Slow down. At first sickening, my reflection is now beautiful. It holds a story of strength, survival, fortune, and growth. These scratches are deep enough to have taught me my most important lesson, but shallow enough to let me live to share my story. Sometimes the most beautiful moments in life happen when everything slows down, and you can pause long enough to truly feel what being alive feels like. My head pangs again. Instead of coffee, I realize an ice pack, green smoothie, and few days of solid rest are in order.

I need to remember to get snacks for this presentation... Did I remember my lights so I can bike after class tonight?...I can't believe 3 years of PT school is almost over... Life moves so fast... I will miss my friends when it is over...Is the kale still in my toppling bag full of groceries?...Do I have enough time to shower before heading downtown?... I think my reader just replied with more edits to my manuscript... If I wake up a bit earlier tomorrow I can fit in adding those before my scheduled board studying...Speaking of which, did I send that application yet?...And I really need to call my mom it has been ages!... You know what sounds fun? Watching the sunset at the beach... No time Val, hurry up...This park is so pretty I love biking here... Almost home, I'll quick drop off these groceries and.... OH MY GOD. . . . “Are you ok Miss?? What do you need?!!Oh my god there's blood everywhere!!” "Quick, call 911. Stop the bleeding! She ran that stop sign..." Dozens of worried eyes peered down at my blood covered body, crumpled and tangled with my twisted bike. “Miss, Miss! We need you to stay awake. Can you tell me what year it is? What is the president’s name?” "....2000...16.....Obama..." I mumble. I'm tired, I just want to sleep... Suddenly I remember: I crashed into a car. Dizzying panic sets in. I can't see out of my right eye. I didn't have my helmet on. Am I dying? What day is it? It seems like I was trying to remember something... Damn, why are they talking so loud, I just want to sleep. What day is it? Searing pain in my right ankle... What was I just doing? I had somewhere to be... where was I going? I’ll just take a nap and figure it out later... As I my body fights to drift off, the concerned neighbors effort to keep me alert and oriented. "Miss, what is your name? Help is on the way." "Stabilize her," they command each other. Suddenly arms are around me, lowering me to cold hard ground. Don’t they realize my bed is just a few houses away? If only they would let me walk home….I drift off. I hear sirens, they are rolling me on to a stretcher... we are moving... fast...What is that around my neck?! Ouch! “Miss, what do you need?” I muster the words, "my neck, it hurts." With little coordination, I attempt to lift the tight strap off my stinging neck. Someone with more coordination helps me readjust, though the stinging persists. More rustling, fast movements, noise. Now we are in the hospital, I am flat on a bed being rushed somewhere. "26 y.o. female, bike and MVA, 25mph...no helmet." "Ahh, I'll have to give her the helmet talk..." Memories from the rest of the night are blurry, as I faded in and out of consciousness. A cocktail of emotions began to brew as the severity of the situation became more clear. Frustration, as I tried to get up and the nursing staff insisted I use a bedpan if I needed to use the restroom.

Humor, as I stopped a woman dead in her tracks with the sight of my hamburger mash and steadily swelling black eye startled her.

Disbelief, as the surgeons passed me from one to the next, explaining to me that I needed an experienced plastic surgeon to tie together this laceration.

Horrification, as my weary brain began to emerge from a state of shock, realization that the final presentation of my doctorate program was in one week.

Love and appreciation, as Ryan quietly sat by my side, helping me to stay calm.

And rising shame, as I continued to answer "No" to the one question I wanted to say "yes": Were you wearing a helmet? As a young girl, growing up in a family of cyclists, not wearing a helmet was never an option. As I entered the rebellious years of high school, family brawls took place over my efforts not to wear a helmet, as it surely would mess up my hair before cheerleading practice, or a date at the theater. The saying "If you're not wearing a helmet, your brain isn't worth saving" haunted me as I lay in the hospital bed. How could I have been in such a hurry today? What matters more than my brain? Here I am, having spent 3 painstaking years investing in my education, and I didn't take the simplest step to keep myself safe today! The hypocrisy I felt, lying there, as I thought of all of the people I have scolded for not wearing their helmets in the past. Not to mention the amount of friends I have had say their helmet saved their life in a crash. Never again, I silently vowed. It doesn't matter that I ride my bike multiple times every day, that I hit upwards of 40mph flying down the backside of hawk hill, that I can dance on my bike, learn what really matters in life on my bike, ride the wiggle with my eyes closed on my bike, discover beauty all around me on my bike, eat a burrito while talking on the phone on my bike, fall in love on my bike, get dirty on my bike, carry loads of groceries on my bike, make friends on my bike, dart through the city in the middle of the night on my bike, dream about my bike, ride naked on my bike... I am not now, nor ever will be, above wearing my helmet on my bike. Although my reason for not wearing a helmet was not because I feared what my helmet might do to my curly locks, it was silly nonetheless. Never again. After nearly 8 hours in the emergency department, we finally got clearance for Ryan to take me home. "You can stay here, Ryan, come with us to retrieve her stuff from the locker." The locker I thought? I now have a locker at the general hospital in San Francisco. I guess I am finally a true San Franciscan... Curiously, I wondered what it was I had stashed there. When Ryan returned, he had a bag full of kale, tofu, almonds, PT notes, and a mangled Sparky... Hilarity struck us as we realized the essentials I carried with me to this hospital visit. It was past midnight as we walked out of the hospital. I was so thankful that I was alive and utterly humbled by the experience. This is the first of many lessons this incident taught me.

2 Days after, glamour shot.A bit hidden.

That stop sign...

Sparky's Dr.

Ahh yes :)