When all else fails...

Due to an out-of-town husband, an insurmountable laundry list of chores, a pending trip to Chicago, an insane work schedule and a deeply rooted need to take a break from any one of the aforementioned tasks, training has been sent to the backburner for a few days.

I've got it all justified: I'm training mentally.

Here's how:


I watched this.

And then I read this.

And this.

And now I feel very well informed, but the laundry list of chores and the hours of work and the pending trip remain.

I had the opportunity once to interview a very wise woman for the magazine I edit, and I asked her how she managed to balance her work life with her family life. She brilliantly stated that it's not a balancing act--it's a juggling act. Those words have stayed with me for months.

As I've added training to my already busy life, sometimes I feel like it might be too much to juggle. I'm constantly waiting to drop the next ball.

But I'm also learning that I'm capable of doing more than I thought I could do, and while it's quite an awkward dance sometimes, I haven't dropped the ball yet. And if I do, I suppose I'll just pick it up, dust it off, and begin again.

It's funny. The benevolent part of me wanted to climb that amazing mountain so that I could raise money for Light of Hope, and the more selfish parts of me wanted to prove to myself that I still hadn't lost the part of me that used to be fearless.

Bit by bit I'm learning that I'm terrified. I'm not fearless, and I never have been. And for awhile, that realization hurt just a little, because for so long I identified myself as The Bold One. My source of pride in myself was a belief that I was unafraid.

These days, I'm learning to be proud in a different way. I'm connecting to fears of failure and anger and potential, and I'm living through them, and it's delicious.

Thanks to that mountain, I'm finally learning to live honestly.

Thanks, Kilimanjaro.

And thanks, Light of Hope, for beginning to reawaken hope in me.