Small Bites and Little Victories

It's happening. You know it's happening. I know it's happening. And no ones happy about it. Summer is coming to a close. I don't know what your thoughts are, but I feel like this is super rude. Not only is it rude, but I also find it to be incredibly anxiety provoking.  Every August I beat myself up with this line of thinking: "Why didn't I go to the beach more? I haven't seen an outdoor movie! I didn't eat enough watermelon! Its official, the summer was absolutely WORTHLESS!" This thought process is totally adorable, and incredibly fun to be around. This mentality was born out of wanting to do absolutely everything. I was like the Ms. PACman of fun things - I could never stop, and I was totally insatiable! Living in New York City didn't do anything to calm that feeling, there was always so much going on, so much fun to be had, so many "once in a lifetime experiences" that I was afraid to miss! After my accident that feeling we

I had always thought that going away to camp would be the most amazing experience. I mean, if all of the movies I saw were true, it was the place where you got to make life long friends, make s'mores and kiss boys, and I loved all of those things!! I never went because I had FOMO before I even knew what FOMO was.  There would be so many things that could happen in my neighborhood that I would miss! Running bases in the street, swimming at the pool, the chance that the ice cream man would stop right in front of my house!! But, in the summer of my 32nd year, FOMO be dammed, I finally signed up for camp: boot camp. And just like I would have been at 8 years old, I was excited for 5 minutes, and then totally terrified.  I entertained an endless stream of anxieties: "What was it going to be like?  Were the other people going to be nice? Was the coach going to yell? Will we have to do gun drills?!" (Wrong boot camp, but a lot of things were running through my head, it was hard

Running was my response to every single emotion that I had.  If I was stressed out: run until all of those knots you've tied up in yourself have loosened.  If I was sad: run until the tears mingle with the sweat running down your face and you can't tell the difference between the two. If I was in a good mood: put on your favorite album and run your smiling face up and down every street in your neighborhood. Running made every bad feeling dissipate, and amplified  every good feeling. It was a fast forward button I could push to immediately feel confident and strong.  Even though I was sweaty and exhausted, I never felt more beautiful than I did when I was running.  Felt is the operative word here, kids. Felt. While I was running I used to see walkers and think to myself, "You guys! You're so close! Just a little more leg work and you could be running! Running is THE BEST!"  I could never understand why they wouldn't push themselves harder, try a little more