We Can All Do More

It’s been quite a week.

I graduated from the Maitri 250hr Yoga Teacher Training program Wednesday evening. I don’t really have adequate words to describe the women I came to know through this program. They fill me up. I have to keep reminding myself to check my ego. These ladies just won’t quit with the compliments!

“Thank you. Thank you,” I found myself chanting like a mantra, the words losing weight with each repetition, collapsing into a jumble of abstract sounds, like a tired tongue twister.

I called my husband Thursday evening right before he boarded a plane for home, a day earlier than planned. His surprise arrival meant I got to sleep in Friday morning and take a leisurely shower while he ran errands with the girls.

I’ve been binge listening to Ultra Runner Podcast lately. The latest episode with Kaci Lickteig played while I sipped my morning coffee. She described her suffering during the Western States 100-Mile Endurance Run. She spoke plainly about the anger she felt towards her grandma for giving up chemo. The stress she felt over her inability to help rocked her race and, at the same time, drove her to the finish. So she could prove to herself and her grandma that we can all do more than we think we’re capable of.

“Am I angry with my mom?” I wondered. I don’t think so. Although I do feel angry with my dad, for bailing while he was still needed.

Friday night I taught kids’ Superhero Yoga at the Denver Comic Con, and it went really well. The kids were all engaged and my nerves fizzled as soon as we started. Afterwards we went out to eat downtown. The weather was perfect, my family was with me and I was feeling the buzz of beer and relief.


It’s a strange thing experiencing joy in the middle of grief. Celebrating the beautiful moments, both large and small, and continuing on. Going through the motions of daily life as life ends.

I ran during the hottest part of Sunday. My watch stats tell me the temperature ranged between 88 – 106 F. There wasn’t any shade. A visible and textured layer of salt coated my skin by the time I finished. It was hard. But as my hero Glennon Doyle Melton says, “We can do hard things.” I reminded myself that at least the heat meant I was less likely to meet a rattlesnake. I reminded myself that I will survive. I will finish. Or, perhaps more accurately, I will continue. I’ll keep putting one foot in front of the other, because we can all do more than we think we’re capable of.

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