Step into the Arena

When 2017 came in I had a laundry list of things I wanted to accomplish. There are actual things, like physical goals that I’m working toward. And there are not so concrete things; things I’m trying to bring into my life to improve on it. Don’t we all start a new year that way? Sitting down and creating a mental (or physical) list of what we can do to feel more fulfilled, more connected, more alive? I bought a huge planner, I mapped out my goals for 1 month, 3 months, a year, 3 years etc. I broke those down into the most important goals and highlighted what I could do to get me to them. I put deadlines in place and started making lists of how to get there efficiently and quickly. I love lists, I live by them, but I also tend to get trapped by them and eventually bogged down by the sheer volume of stuff I want to accomplish on any given day. Sometimes I even let the list get in the way of what I really need to focus on.

So, here’s the thing: want to feel more fulfilled? More connected? More alive? Then just start living. There, done. Easy, right? Except it isn’t. I find myself making lists full of things that I know are simple so I can get the satisfaction of crossing them off.  Sure I get things done, but the real stuff doesn’t get touched. The real stuff is the hard stuff, the stuff I avoid because it’s difficult and I’m terrified. I’m terrified of what I’ll face when I finally choose to look. The problem is that we can’t get to the greatness of life without taking a good look at what scares us most.

So, find out what fears you hold onto that keep you from doing the things you want and do your damn best to move through them. Now, maybe I shouldn’t be the one preaching about moving past fear since I’m the biggest scaredy cat you’ve ever known, but maybe being scared makes me uniquely qualified to say f*ck fear. Holding onto it has done me no good and it’ll do you no good either.

Spring is on its way, now’s the time to come out from behind the big monsters we feed with our fear and step into the life we want.

I think I have time for it today, just let me check my planner…

Crossing the Finish Line

Well, here we are, in our final week at the Swami. It’s been such a crazy ride. One full of joy and heartache. I want to take a minute to let you know what you’ve meant to us.

Dear Swami Riders,

Thank you. Thank you for riding with us, for stretching with us (Kate’s favorite part), for sweating with us and letting us get to know you. It has been an honor and a privilege serving you these past two years. You’ve laughed, gritted your teeth and pushed through some pretty tough rides – some of you even puked in our towels (or thought about puking in our towels). We’ve had so much fun watching your competitive spirit come out, and we’ve especially loved the shit talking. The occasional singing has been an added bonus. You’ve dragged your asses out of bed before the sun and put in your best before most other people have had their morning cup of coffee. You’ve shown us determination, power and strength. You’ve done it with grace and made it all so much fun for us – even those early mornings.

Though it has been a joy to see you in the studio, the real joy is seeing you out in our kit. Cycle Swami has been to an Iron Man in Maryland, Leadville in Colorado and Musselman in our very backyard - because you’ve taken us there. We’ve seen our colors at mountain bike races, at cyclocross races, on your leisurely Sunday rides around random lakes, and at a handful of triathlons, not to mention some crazy 100 milers. That has been the best part for us, to have ridden with you both in the studio and out, and to have had the pleasure of watching you cross that finish line.

Closing is a different finish line for us, one that has come upon us too fast and too soon. It’s one we hate to cross and we hope it isn’t the last one that we’ll get to cross with you.

Thank you for showing us your support, we will miss your faces, and your kindness, but not your sweaty towels.

See you on the road and remember to ride often and stretch always.

Lots of love,

Kate and Nick

2017: A Declaration

Hello 2017,

Normally I wait until the end of the year to hash it out, but I’m feeling really serious about you, so I wanted to get off on the right foot. 2015 and 2016 were kind of a drag, so I’m expecting a lot out of you. We’re a few days in and I already know you’re going to be good. I’ve planned all my races and set all my goals. Thanks to 2015 and 2016, your less kind siblings, I’ve learned where I need work and where I kick ass. I’ve learned a ton more, but we’ve talked about that enough. I’m ready to move on.

I’m also ready to learn. To learn how to be a better parent, how to be a better teacher and practitioner. I’m ready to learn how to relax and take care of myself too. I’m ready to ask for help when I need it and I’m willing to admit that that doesn’t make me less capable, it just makes me human. This may be my biggest challenge in 2017, but, like I said, I’m ready.

When I look around on social media I notice a trend – I see more people standing up and stating undeniably that this year they will kick some ass. So, to those of you standing, I’m with you. Let’s collectively get our shit together and take back our lives. No more saying “tomorrow” or “I’ll do that when: I have more time, more resources, more money…” more, whatever. You fill in the blank, you know what’s holding you back. If you aren’t standing yet, but you’re flirting with the idea, ask yourself “why?” If there’s one thing I’ve learned since I’ve had kids is that time doesn’t slow down, it speeds its nasty self up. Each day that passes is a day lost and at some point you’re going to discover that there are more days behind you than in front. So, stand up. I’m with you.

Last year around this time I wrote this:

“In the hip world, they call it a tribe. Like-minded people going the same direction with the same intention. I really think to make it through the end of January and beyond with your resolutions (ahem, goals) intact, you need a tribe. You need the support of people willing to do what they can to help you succeed. You’re worth that. So, go out there and surround yourself with people who want to see you achieve your grandest plans, people who want to watch you soar to nose-bleed heights. Find people who are reaching for their own set of stars so you can find inspiration in each other when shit gets rough. Because you know it’s going to. It always does.”

I have never believed in this more than I do today. So, in light of all the divisive craziness that’s gone on in this country in the last few months, the least we can do is decide to stand together. So, I say it again: I’m with you.

Now let’s go kick some 2017 ass (sorry 2017, I mean this in the kindest way possible). Let's do it together. Because I’m ready. Are you?

Lots of love,

Kate

2016: A love letter

Dear 2016,

I had so much fun with you this year. Okay, not really. If 2015 was the year of near crippling self-doubt then you were the year of epic failure and outstanding achievement. You were not the worst on record (I still think 2015 takes the cake there), but you came close. You showed me rock bottom, but also allowed me to see that sometimes even when you’re all the way down there, you can look around and see the blessings that surround you and somehow still feel lucky. When there isn’t much left to lose, you get the rare opportunity to see what’s left and thankfully, what was left for me was what truly mattered.

I cried a lot of tears in the last 360 some odd days. I cried for the loss of people I didn’t know: Prince, Carrie Fisher, and Alan Rickman. I cried for the loss of those I did: my beloved violin teacher Laura, Nick’s Aunt Margie, my Uncle Mike, and most recently, Nick’s mom Joyce. I cried at the death of my biggest dream: Cycle Swami. But I also cried when I swam my first panic-free open water swim, when I crossed the finish line at my first triathlon and again when I finished my second one in a faster time than my first. I cried on our first century ride and I cried in the studio when I finished tough rides I thought I’d never be able to finish. If you haven’t guessed it yet, I’m a crier.

2016, you’ve taken a lot from all of us. You’ve taken our loved ones, you’ve nabbed our dreams and you’ve shaken our faith in humanity. You showed us that truth and justice don’t always prevail – sometimes the bad guy does win. In the same instant, you showed us that grace and humility still shine brightly and courage always trumps fear, even if it doesn’t seem so on the outside.

Sure you kicked my ass a bit 2016, but I can honestly say that as I wave goodbye to you, I’ve never been happier. Not because you’re finally ending your bloody reign, but because I’m actually happier. Sure, I’m not teaching yoga at Cycle Swami anymore, but I do have a sweet little space in my house – a space that is exactly what I dreamed it would be. Cozy, filled with natural light and with no goddamned brown carpet. It’s perfection wrapped in loveliness. Somehow, I’ve ended up exactly where I needed to be, I just needed to fail a bit (okay, a lot) to get there. And don’t we all? 2016, I’m not saying you’re a failure, I’d never do that, but I am saying that it seems we all need to fail a bit to recognize that our best plans may not be the ones that are actually meant to be.

So, 2016, thanks for showing me (rather roughly) how to get out of my own way. Without you, I would be stuck in the same place I was: with everything I thought I needed, but nothing I actually wanted.

Much love,

Kate

where we go from here

I try hard to make sure everyone who walks through the doors of my studio feels comfortable and welcome. I think people spend enough time being told, by themselves or others, that they are not enough. Not good enough, not smart enough, not _____ enough. So when they walk through my doors, I want them to know that they are already enough – that they already have everything that they are seeking right there, inside them. It’s a wonderful feeling that feeling you get when you belong, when you know you’re in the right place, when you respect and are respected, not for your life achievements or your political views or your personal assets, but for being human; for living, for breathing, for being on this planet at the same time, in the same place. I want to foster that. I want that feeling of belonging to ooze out of your pores when leave my class.

Like a lot of you, I have spent the last couple days on edge. I have grappled with how I feel – angry, disappointed, and yes, despairing. I’ve read a ton of articles too as I work my way through. Some of them are full of fear and rage. I get it. I get it on both sides really. As parents, we talk a lot to the kids about what’s going on, and this is where I get stuck. Walking away from the polling place on Tuesday afternoon Gabriel turned to me and said “Donald Trump can’t be president. He calls women pigs.” He didn’t get that from us. He heard it somewhere else. Maybe from our president-elect’s own mouth, I don’t know. It doesn’t matter really. What matters is that we don’t name call in our house. We don’t watch TV shows where they call each other names. If one of my kids calls the other – or someone else – a name, there are consequences. If they make fun of someone because of their differences there are consequences. If they are disrespectful there are consequences. I’m struggling with explaining to my 6 year old how doing those things catapulted a man into the highest and most respected office of this country. Maybe he wasn’t voted in because of those things, I don’t know, but he did them and he’s still where he is. No consequences. My kids see that. How do I explain that?

I may not know how to talk my way around this one with my kids, but I know what I’m going to do moving forward. I will get involved, I will make sure to be a champion of what I believe and make sure I stand up for the rights of those around me. I’ve been sitting in the sidelines all these years thinking someone else will do the work for me. No longer. If ever there was a time to stand up and use your voice to bring peace and understanding back, it is now. We are way overdue.

I am certain about something else too: that community wins. When people feel a sense of belonging, they feel loved and when they feel loved, they are capable of a myriad of wonderful things. So come out and do some yoga with us. Let’s breathe and laugh together. Let’s heal our own wounds so we can move out into the world with our yoga mat sized band-aids to help heal the bigger wounds that surround us. Let’s make space for ourselves and each other. There is no other way we’re going to get through this, whether it’s the next 4 years or the next 54, there is no other way. So let’s get to it; stand up, roll out your mat. Let’s begin the work of bringing some sanity back to this place. It starts with you and me. One breath at a time.

Namaste.