Learning to Choose Peace

Learning to Choose Peace

Peace is a choice. You don't get handed a peaceful life. In the midst of chaos you have to choose peace over pain.

This lesson has been resonating in my head all month. Am I capable of choosing peace over pain (or anger, or frustration, or contempt)? Can I put that to practice when I step off a yoga mat and the problems become real? Will I even see peace as a choice in the midst of frustration?

Lately it's always something incredibly trivial that puts my frustration over the edge. And, unfortunately, it's not until after said insignificant hell valley is in the rear-view that perspective gives me the chance to see that this was the universe presenting me with a real life case test. Call it yoga or just call it spiritual maturity, but she’s testing to see if I can decide on what’s meaningful.

Today it came in the form of a 6-hour, technologically challenged flight. No wifi, no working TV, no power. Ok, you're probably thinking "this isn't really a test of anything except what life was like in 1999, and you were alive then Jess, soo... what exactly is your beef?" And I don't have a particularly good answer. I think as humans once we set an expectation it's hard for us to accept a last-minute change. At least that's how it is for this human.

Read More

My New York Tribe

My New York Tribe

The New York running community is like nothing I could have possibly imagined. It’s a group of exceedingly diverse, multi-leveled, pretty freaking weird souls all out on the pavement just trying to survive. The very concept of the “everyday athlete” – a term I’ve often used to describe the basis on which the Happy Runner Diaries was created – seems to have been born in New York. Here there are elites, there are beginners, there are mothers, charity runners, and multi-sport athletes all sharing the course with nothing but love for each other. There’s no room for entitlement, because in true New York fashion, no matter how you’re acting, we honestly don’t give a sh*t.

Read More

Expos as a Metaphor

Expos as a Metaphor

I’ve been in such dread for the New York City half expo that I actually drank an entire draft of Guinness before stopping down hoping the buzz wouldn’t wear off before I could pop in and out of that bad bear, carefully sidestepping even one hand-out vitamin that I’ll be tempted to take race morning but shouldn’t. The train down was packed, I was sweating through my chambray by the time I crawled out of middle Earth back to fresh air, and I was a face-flushed piss ball by the time I got inside. But why?

Read More