life lately.

My sister’s sunset view from her farmhouse

Where oh where has this past month gone?

I’ve been sitting with that question for a few days now, along with a feeling I can only describe as raw and tender. Not bad, exactly. Just tender in the seams between the regular days, where life slips in and hums along whether I’m ready for it or not.

Here’s a glimpse of what my days have looked like lately:

Early morning online personal training sessions. Group fitness classes. Private nutrition coaching calls. And in between: celebrating my oldest’s 27th birthday (how?), making decisions about our Boston home updates from western New York, and trekking back and forth across the state a few too many times.

Taking a tumble with my pup, Chili, and breaking a rib. Pivoting my live classes so I teach more and demo less. Stepping back into warm, healthier fall meals, one bite at a time, while still reaching for my peanut M&M’s and a good slice of sourdough with my soup. Taking muscle relaxers at night so I can actually sleep and show up for my clients during the day. Catching the worst head cold I’ve had in years from the hubby (hello, phlegm and gunk).

Listening to and enjoying The Calamity Club on Audible during the long drive to Tennessee to celebrate my father’s 80th birthday. Stopping to see friends along the way: a cozy meal, a walk along a new path, a new-home check-in. Writing postcards to my friends in Texas, donating to Texas. Missing National Osteoporosis Awareness Day on social media, and writing five handwritten letters to friends instead, pointing them to the Bone Health & Osteoporosis Foundation (BHOF) for resources and support. (Broken rib and all, I’ll take that trade.)

Finding space to sit and stare at the lake. Finding time for big, robust conversations with my husband about our future.

And reminding myself, daily, that October is a hard month and a beautiful month all at once.

This has been life lately.

One year ago today

This morning I woke up at my sister’s farmhouse after a truly good night’s sleep. No noise, no distractions. And it hit me: one year ago today, I was traveling here because my father was in the hospital after a near-serious heart attack.

Surgery and stents fixed him up. I flew in to care for my parents: to feed them, drive to doctor’s appointments, and help my dad recover.

Somewhere in between travel, my Apple Watch broke. After nine years, the glass just cracked. It was kind of weird. I decided to take it as a sign and go watch-free, wrist-data-free, for one month.

That month has turned into a year.

And what I found is this: I can trust what I know to be true about myself.

I know the steps I need to take to move daily, to walk daily, to push my heart rate, and to sleep. I don’t need a watch to tell me I had a lousy night. I know. I don’t need a watch to tell me when I’ve hit a mile. At this age and stage of my life, I can figure that out, or guesstimate pretty darn close.

Eventually, I went back to my old Timex Ironman. It tells the time and the date, and lets me start and stop my workouts. That’s it. Keeping it simple has benefits. I think I will stay here for a while.

The foundation that lets you let go

Here’s what’s really landed for me: the only reason I can let go of the tracking now is the foundation I’ve spent years prepping, building, and stacking. The routines are in place enough that I can loosen my grip on the things that used to hold me so tight.

That’s the quiet magic of a strong foundation. It doesn’t just hold you up on the good days. It gives you room to breathe on the messy ones: the broken-rib, head-cold, back-and-forth-across-the-state ones.

As a holistic health coach, this is the work I do with clients every day. Together, we look at what’s already working in your environment so we can build and stack new habits on top of it, and at what needs to be let go so there’s room for something new.

Being well is a privilege

Sometimes I forget how lucky I am. Not only do I get to do work I LOVE, serving others with my whole heart, but I also get reminded every day that being well is a privilege, and a way of respecting yourself.

And being well looks different for each of us, in each season. What works for you may not be what works for me, and that’s exactly the point.

That’s what I love most about coaching a small group of women together. We recognize our differences. We accept that learning to cook more at home is a real challenge, and we take it on together, organizing our routines to care for these beautiful, capable bodies and the quality of life we want to live in them.

So if this October finds you a little raw and tender too,

I see you.

Lean on the foundation you’ve built, even if it feels small.

Let go of one thing that’s holding you too tight.

And make room for the hard and the beautiful, all at once.

With love from a quiet Tennessee farmhouse,

Jenny