The Best Things in Life Are Surprises

The best things in life are surprises.

Like realizing my car has a sun roof. I really didn't know. I don't know how I didn't know. But now I know. 

Like falling asleep on the way to the Berkshires, and waking up to jazz music and to ice coffee that is still ice cold. 

Like finding waterfalls, and stony ledges, and expansive vistas. And, at the peak of Mount Greylock, a historic lodge, built of stone and shingles, with views that say, "Sit here. Really."

And, back in the city, like looking up from my harborside glass of rose and seeing a slice of blue sky.

Practice Makes Radness

Ever heard the words yoga and practice in the same sentence? What's that all about? What's a "yoga practice"? Let's be real: It sounds just a wee bit pretentious (yikes) and the word practice also holds connotations of work. Working at something, working through something, getting better at something. Hard work.

But, when we use the phrase "yoga practice," I think we are hinting at something more, something very rad. Something very significant, and very, very hard to define.

All pretensions aside, yoga is important to me. It makes my running better, and there's something to be had on a yoga mat that I can't get elsewhere. That undefinable something.

But I would turn around and say the same thing about running, or the November Project, or learning to surf and swallowing an ocean-ful of salt water, or paddle boarding, or barre, or hiking, or kayaking. Or, all the rest.

It's not about any one thing for me. So, what is it?

It is the practice of being active. 

Today, it was back-to-back yoga and a 7 mile run. Tomorrow, I'm trying to figure out if I can make it to November Project and back in time for work (I think I can do it. And you should come.). And tomorrow evening, we will be paddle boarding with the sunset.

My active practice is fundamental and it is core. And, to me, it is rad.

There is a Zen proverb: Move and the way will open. 

A simple but very impactful phrase, with so many meanings. Shift, change, work hard, dig deep, transcend. But maybe it's just move. Move. Move more often, move big, move strong, move fast. Move. And the way will open.

I didn't always feel this way. But I do now, and I can't imagine my daily life, my weekly life, my forever life, without this practice.

So I will move and I will practice. And then? I'll stop and take it all in.

Here's What You Missed

Haven't been here in a while? Here's what you missed.

I re-committed to yoga.

I ran the Lululemon SeaWheeze Half Marathon, set a PR, and fell in love with Vancouver.

View from Kits Beach at sunset.

I learned to make my own granola bars.

I started training with the November Project.

Back in August, when workouts were bright, sunny, hot, and sweaty.

I joined Instagram. Let's be friends. 

I went to Denver. It's crazy beautiful there.

Berthoud Pass

All caught up? Good.

A Weekend Away, A World Apart

I spent the weekend taking photos of firepits. There are so many firepits in Denver. And everytime I saw one, I took a photo and texted the specs to M ("This one is gas operated!"). I want a firepit. I don't know where we'll put it. I really don't. But I want one.

Maybe I'll publish a book of firepit photos. I'll call it Real Firepits of Colorado. I am seriously in love with firepits. Seriously.

I love what firepits mean. They mean hiking the mountains and then going to a brewery for a beer. They mean sitting outside, all bundled up, fireside. In Denver, the mountains are omnipresent and being outside is natural. We don't have firepits in Boston and we don't have that life either. Sure, we run outside and some of us row or kayak on the Charles, but we don't get really really REALLY outside. And most of us hate winter. We hate it a lot.

There are so many places to visit. And so many lives to live. And the life in Denver? It's a beautiful one.

I flew back to Boston today. The afternoon light of a Northeastern sunset filtered through the plane windows and, as we descended, the sun was a glowing pink orb hovering just above the horizon line. It became dark quickly. When my cab popped out of the tunnel, all of the downtown city lights were spread out against the sky like twinkly stars.

And I thought: Home is a pretty great place too. Home is a pretty great life too.