Mustard Seeds and Hard Things

It's nearly been a year since I've written here- a year. 
If you follow my blog, you know this is out of character for me.
Where have I been, you ask? Navigating one of the hardest years of my life, my family's life.

As I sat across from my husband at the dinner table last week, discussing the last year, we had to slouch back and laugh at how many hard moments we had, how many times we said "it's just a season!" and found ourselves continuing to trudge through murky and confusing moments. 2018 was not short on bullets, let me tell ya!

We lost our foster daughter from our home at the beginning of the year to her past demons that we fought so hard against. The night we lost her, my husband got into a car wreck.
So, we took a break.
During our break, my husband got into a second car wreck which resulted in a serious brain bleed that he's currently still recovering from. There were days in the beginning I didn't think I'd ever get the old Jarrod back. The sense of humor was gone. Balance, memory, physical ability-gone.
So we took a breath.
A deep one.

During this deep breath, a battle begun as parents.

2018 dreams were pushed to the back burner, as I tried to navigate my first year as a full time employee doing the job I always wanted while grieving a loss, helping my husband recover, and sharing restless nights over the hard parenting decisions that haunt us all.

I think we too often get in the habit of wanting to smear "positive vibes, positive life" all over our hurt that we never allow ourselves to feel it, never let others see that it's okay to not be okay.

Friend, it is okay to mourn. It is okay to admit that you didn't have a hard week, or a hard month, but a hard year all around. When did bravery switch from going into battle to pretending wars no longer exist? You will have battles. You will go to war for your kids. You will have tragedies, accidents, confusion, and your faith may be whittled down to what seems like the smallest seed.
It. is. okay. to. not. be. okay.
Why? Because even still, you will be okay. You will make it. 
I leaned back in my chair after chuckling over all of our hard moments and my husband grabbed my hand.

"We are blessed and highly favored, babe." (Leave it to Jarrod to be wise, always)
 Despite the losses, the sleepless nights, the times we questioned our purpose as foster parents, heck-as regular parents, if I was cut out for my job, if he'd ever recover, if this season would turn into a forever winter-

As I've spent time in devotional time, sometimes completely exhausted just thinking about 2019, He renews me. A small whisper makes its way to me each and every day for 2019-

Restoration. 
Restoration.
Restoration.

If you're in the same boat as the Davis family and you've had a tough year, know that no house being completely restored can stay how it was. You have to start with the demolition-the most important step. Get back down to the foundation. Get to the beams and the fixtures, a blank canvas. Look at its rawness, its realness, and sometimes-its ugliness. 

Allow yourself to be torn down, to lay bare, and be restored-rebuilt from the ground up. 


Allow your faith to be whittled down to the size of a mustard seed-isn't that all you really need? 

So You Want To Be A Foster Parent?

This blog is for individuals seriously debating foster parenting for their family. For many, the idea of foster parenting is picturesque and oftentimes appears appealing.
As a foster parent, I try to share both the good and bad of our journey, because that's what it is. Many times, foster parents cannot share much detail due to protection of the children in their care.

This protection is needed, but it often leaves potential foster parents unsure and unaware of what foster parenting really looks like and what it will change for their lives/family.

I've made a list of things potential foster parents may normally not consider before making the leap, because friends, it is a journey that is worth it and one that must be traveled to those called to it, but listen-
if you are not truly called to be a foster parent, it could wreck you if you do it anyway.
It is grueling and it will turn your life upside down.
If foster parenting is for you, you will weather this darkness because it is your calling, your destiny and you might just change a kid's life.

Here it goes:

1. Nothing is private. 

Nope. Nothing. You can't just raise your hand and become a foster parent. You go through extensive training and checks before they say, "okay, you're fit for this." Everything you've done, what your parents have done, history, employment, debt, all finances, what have you-it's all there, laid out and bare for the system to assess. We went through hours of home visits, each of us just sitting and spilling out our entire history, our relationships with one another and also family, etc. to a stranger.

Aside from the process to get approved, once you have a new child in your home-your privacy will diminish. I think many people assume the child will be just like theirs, which are moderately uninterested in you to be honest. No-you will come home to bedroom drawers gone through, papers shuffled, out of curiosity, and understandably. They will listen outside your door, out of innocence, but your pillow talk is no longer an A-B conversation and you must always be aware of this. J and I often steal time in the car returning movies, etc. so we can have a private conversation. (Also, we may or may not have a secret stash locked away of snacks because sometimes those disappear too! SHHH.)

2. Your schedule is negotiable now. 

Jarrod and I are both type A personalities, so this one is still jarring to us. You will have meetings sprung on you with minutes to spare, sometimes AT YOUR HOUSE. You will be unprepared mentally, emotionally and yeah, those dirty dishes in the sink...throw a towel over them because someone is about to bust up in your house in 5 minutes! This would be hard for anyone, but especially two full-time working parents who rush home to get dinner started, much less pull up in the driveway to a worker already walking up to their door to inspect their life.

You do not only add a child to your schedule, but also every appointment that they will need you to take them to-
FST meetings, house calls, worker visits, therapy sessions, chaffee worker visits, and quarterly visits. If you have other children in the household, they all have their own commitments as well, so make sure you are ready to re-arrange your schedule at any moment. Not flexible? Get ready, darling-you have to be.

3. There will be bad days. 

I know, you're probably rolling your eyes because you know what a bad day is, you have kids, okay? Unfortunately, these bad days, or weeks, aren't the same with the children placed in your home. They have been through some traumatic and unique things, and despite your background, you probably haven't dealt with it exactly like they have. Every child is different. Sometimes you will be able to pinpoint the trigger, but others- you will have no idea. One day you will feel on top of the world, like barriers are broken and the next you're sitting on her bed because she's withdrawn, sobbing, unable to communicate why she's hurting.

Jarrod and I explain making progress in foster care as-one step forward, two steps back, sometimes 36 steps back, depending on the day. 

4. No, it won't make your finances soar. 

Unfortunately, people have this conception that being a foster parent pays an amazing amount of money.
Firstly, if you're doing it for the money, run away, because your heart is not in the right place and you are about to be mightily disappointed, friend. Missouri is next to last in pay, just in case you were wondering. If you ARE in this realm of thinking, though I'd hope not, know that you will most likely end up paying out more than you are receiving. In our case, we don't just have an extra child, we have a teen, which comes with more expenses than you'd imagine until you really sit down to add it all up-food, toiletries, hygiene products (GIRLS!!!!!), clothes, etc. Each time you go to the movies-one more ticket. Each time you decide to go out to eat-one more entree. Not to mention, future car, etc. It adds up, so the system tries to help foster parents as much as they can by giving some money because they know we are going to take a mighty hit to the wallet, but usually, it never ends up being a bonus, especially if the foster parent is providing the care truly needed.

5. You are now at war. 

Foster parenting is not a fairy tale. I want you to know this, as a prospective foster parent, because you need to see the full movie, not just the highlight reel. I care about you and all of the foster kids in the system right now to sugar coat the truth, because these kids deserve permanency in some fashion. Too many people fantasize about foster parenting/adoption, oftentimes glamorizing it, so much to the point that when they get knee deep into it, they bail because it's harder than they expected, leaving a child to bounce around from home to home, their life constantly in a trash bag. 

Your family is now under fire.
Your marriage is now under fire.
You are at war and you must surround yourself with support, a tribe of people who may not understand your foster parent journey, but are there to listen, to step in the ditches with you and dig by your side.

Foster parenting is not for everyone, and you have to realize that that's okay. There is no reason to feel guilt over not taking in foster children, because we all play a special part in this system. Maybe you're meant to just hop in the ditch and help dig beside your friend who is on this journey. Maybe you're meant to just be a prayer partner for foster parents and the children in their care. From the foster parents to the friends who simply text us to say, "hey, update me. I'm here to listen", all are pieces to this puzzle that MUST be put together. We love our ditch diggers, our support system to the max. You keep us going.

6. It's worth it. 

If you and your partner are called to foster (both must be on board for this to work!), this journey is worth it, friend. It is hard, so hard, but man, is it worth it when my kid laughs at the dinner table, or jokes with her brothers, or talks about being a part of our family and I can just see the relief/safety cover her face, a face once covered in uncertainty.

Yes, there are hard truths to foster parenting. Yes, there are hard days to foster parenting. I cannot prepare you fully in one blog for what lies ahead for you on your journey, because it won't look just like mine.

But, there are good days. There are breakthroughs. There are laughter and tears and breaking of walls and tearing down of shame and guilt and discovering of light and hope all at once.

It is terrifying and beautiful and I love this crazy journey with my husband and boys and now I could never imagine my life without our girl.

“Sometimes our work as caregivers is not for the faint of heart. But, you will never know what you are made of until you step into the fire. Step bravely!” ― Deborah A. Beasley

Just Say 'No' To Stuff

no.
no.
no.
No.
NO.
NO!

It's really easy to type, but in reality, it's so hard to say-especially for specific personality types (er, mine).
I know many of you have new year's goals that you're currently working through, some you've probably already tossed to the curb along with your garage treadmill.

See ya, piece of garbage! Back to my Netflix, who loves me back!

Fitness goals are great, but I want to discuss a goal of mine for 2018 that I feel more strongly about than losing those 5 lbs. gained over my mom's apple pie.

Saying 'No'.
To stuff.
To the extras, the non-necessities. 

First, I want you to know that I don't feel we should always say 'No' just because we don't feel like it, or if it will make us just a little more busy-sometimes I believe God asks us to step out and serve others, to help de-clutter someone else's life even though it may complicate ours just a little more. Sometimes we are called to get a little uncomfortable and "inconvenienced" for the sake of others.

However, being a "YES!" person all the time is not healthy for you, your career, your children, or your marriage. Honestly, before this last year, I didn't see myself as a "Yes!" person, I simply saw myself as more hardcore than the average joe (I know, I needed humbled, ok? Back off)-

Hey, I can work multiple jobs and run my own small business and be a step mom and have foster children and serve at my church and bake homemade meals all at once, it's fine, I'm only dying inside and sleeping 5 hours a week, but it's okay, I'm okay! I can see sounds and hear colors! 

This. Is. Stupid. 

Friend, I don't care how young you are, this is a very unhealthy way of thinking/living. Unfortunately, I didn't recognize that just because it's a good opportunity, doesn't mean it's one I should say yes  to. I saw every open door as the right opportunity, as a potentially missed opportunity. 

In actuality, not every door, though what's on the other side may be good, is for you. 

Not every "great opportunity" is meant for you to grasp, maybe for just this season, or maybe ever. 

So, I've made it my 2018 goal to assess every opportunity through the eyes of God and my family in this particular season of life.

If I say yes to this, will it glorify just me or God?

If I say yes to this, how much time will it take away from my family?

Will I be rushing home after one job and rushing to another one in the evening, missing out on dinner table laughter with my children?

Will I be stealing away much needed alone time with my husband?

Is this opportunity only serving me or will it serve my family or others over me? 

What will have to change in my life to make this opportunity happen? 

How will my current priorities shift? 

What will most likely be neglected? 

Is this really my opportunity, or is it just a good offer that should be passed over as not a priority? 

These are filters we "Yes!" sayers in remission should be asking ourselves. Living a successful, but constantly overwhelmed and tiring life is not truly successful, is it?

Are you willing to look better, richer, more successful, like you have it all together on the outside- 

yet all the while feeling completely depleted, like you'll never catch up, do enough, collect enough degrees, certificates, etc. on the inside? 

As you continue on your current resolutions, maybe assess and make new ones, or think about taking away from your life to add to it. 

Can you do it all? Maybe. But who would want to? 

"Just Okay"

"So, how's the foster care thing going?"
"Good." "Okay." "We're making it!"

The facial response to my "okay" is always amusing. What? Just okay? You're living out something you've been dreaming of and it's just okay? 

I know you are concerned. I know you just want to follow our journey. I know how you want to hear that it's never been better and our family has never been more whole or put together.

I wish I could tell what you want to hear, but dreams aren't easy. I wish I could tell you that a blended family is as smooth as a nuclear one. I wish I could tell you that being a foster parent is like being someone's biological parent.

I can't. It's not.
Dreams are hard.
Loving is hard. 

Our family was put into the blender already, and then we've blended it even further. Nobody tells you that when you walk into a blended family, you have to learn to love a child. We want to think that becoming a step-parent or a foster parent is just like having them ourselves. It isn't-it's much, much harder. We didn't bring their life into the world and immediately bond or love these children-

We fought to love them. We chiseled away at chaos, confusion, brokenness, years of lacking and we bled and stretched to love them. I have known this feeling well, as I've been a step mom for nearly five years. For Jarrod, I'm sure fostering is even a little harder than it is for me, as he's always been someone's "real dad". I have spent the last few years navigating the ship of being an "other", the backstage hand. I have known the pain of realizing that you don't step into a child's life and love them the first day, nor vice versa. You will spend time, so much time, so many awkward days, learning and growing to love one another.

Fostering is on the same path, but harder. Not only are you throwing yourself out, totally naked in your vulnerability to love a child you've just met-but someone before you didn't love them properly. My boys have always had parents to love them, to sing over them as they slept soundly, to make them feel safe-TIMES TWO.

My daughter has not had this. Attachment is hard. Relationships are hard. Feeling safe isn't something that comes in a month. Feeling worthy, feeling wanted, feeling like you could get uprooted any day because someone "just didn't feel like dealing" with you anymore-doesn't disappear within a few week's time. The fear is real and it is unfortunately justified.

So, you will not only be fighting to love her, but fighting your way through years of walls, of neglect, of rejection, of all the people who quit on her before you came around. This journey is hard, probably the hardest thing I've ever done. 

Fostering is like mile 20 of a marathon for me. I am tired, I am depleted, I am anxious I won't be able to keep running-
but I always do, because I love it that much. I take it one mile at a time, one stride at a time, and I smile because I know what lies at the end.

I want to be able to erase 15 years of pain, of confusion, of abandonment in one hug, one mother-daughter date. I want her to feel safe so badly that I tell her each day that she is worthy, smart, wanted. I want to make up for lost lullabies, so each time she falls asleep on the drive home (always) I sing over her softly. Picture that one.

Think about a blender when you're throwing in a mix of ingredients. It is LOUD-sometimes you have to turn your head to escape slightly from the sound of it.
My family is in a blender right now, so things are going to be a little messy, a little loud, a little "just okay".

Please pardon our sleepiness, our occasional distant stares, our construction zone-
We're currently fighting for love and we aren't quitters. 

Buti Yoga Recap

I don't like being "bad" at things-I am competitive, love to succeed and am typically the one screaming "WINNNERRRRR-I WINNNN-WINNINGGGG!" in someone's face when I beat them. Hashtag character flaw. 

Since I've stepped into the fitness world for enjoyment but also as a career, I was deemed as "bad" at yoga. I don't know where I derived the idea from, as no "flexy Brenda" yoga mom ever told me I was. They probably never even looked my direction, but I felt it.

Running and working out and....let's just be honest, my straight up lack of flexibility, has caused me to barely be able to touch my toes. I'm the girl who can only manage a "shin touch", the girl who sighs with relief when the instructor says to go into child's pose because I'm really good at things like laying on the ground. 

My best friend and I decided to try out a local Buti Yoga class this morning-no literally, we just up and decided yesterday we'd try this crap. Jenn is a natural yogi-she's going to be flexy Jenn yoga mom in a few months, while I'm still struggling to touch my toes. I still love her, even though she's bendy naturally. I walked in totally uptight and honestly, afraid. Let's be real-sometimes walking into a room of women you don't know can be intimidating.

Should I put my mat in the back? 
Is this someone's spot? 
Will they like me? 
Should I cover my ass up more before walking in here? 
Will they roll their eyes at my lack of yogi-ness? 
Why are you doing this Britney, don't you remember that you couldn't even do a Herkey move when you tried out for (and FAILED) dance team in Jr. High? 
YOU ARE NOT MADE FOR YOGA. 

Let me tell you something, fellow "bad" yogis...You are not bad at yoga, and Buti taught me that this morning.
Immediately greeted by a flow of friendship, community and straight up kick-ass woman power, I settled onto my mat and faced myself in the mirror. Strings of beautiful women with every body shape stretched, giggled and let jokes flow. Some wore tanks, yoga pants, shorty shorts, some even in just their sports bra.
But want to know something beautiful? Nobody cared.
You didn't think about outfits, you didn't think about body rolls or cellulite that might be peeking out of your shorts. 

The only concern with your body was celebrating it, it's potential, it's growth, it's sensuality. 

Buti is perfect for every woman, but especially for the one who has felt out of sorts as they attempted to balance in tree pose, who really just wants to yell out a string of extremities when they try to touch their nose to their knee, the one who feels "bad" at yoga, and the one who wants to forget the pointless shame she feels for taking up space. 

In Buti, you are constantly moving from one pose to the next, shaking your booty, enjoying the best (no, seriously) jamming music around, and guess what-it's okay to yell, whoop, holler, laugh, tell jokes, throughout the entirety of the class.

I have zero zen-silence doesn't calm me. Know what gets all the toxic, yucky, mucky, stresses of life out for me? Rap music. Dancing. Laughing with girlfriends. Sweating.

Guess what has all of these things perfectly and beautifully packaged up for you, with a ribbon of girl power tied at the top?

Mother. Freaking. Buti. Yoga. 

Zumba: Bringing Sensuality Back

I'll be the first to admit to anyone that I was once a Zumba critic, so much to the point that when the "crew" popped into the gym, I announced that the Zumba moms had arrived! At the time, the only thing they meant to me was a full childcare room. I can openly admit my own suckiness now because Zumba has transformed a huge part of my life.

DA HECK? Zumba, freaking Zumba, transforming your life? It seems extreme, I know. I'm the kind of person that makes fun of people for statements like this (again, I can admit my own suckiness). But-it's true. I'm a Zumba mom.

There, I said it, ya'll. I'm a twerking, bumping, jumping, "whoo whoo"ing, Zumba mom. 

Something happens to women as we age (don't hate cause you ain't 27 anymore, sorry), and I'm not talking about the way our body stretches, or caves, or slows. It's more than a physical alteration; it's an overarching decline in freaking feeling ourselves. No, we don't go to clubs anymore, unless eating a club sandwich in my yoga pants (which I never do yoga in) whilst watching HGTV counts. The all-nighters are no longer by choice and finding time to see your friends is like me doing yoga-it just doesn't happen, okay?

We lose the moments of looking in the mirror and loving our bodies, breaking it down in the shower; we become afraid to dance like people ARE watching; we become afraid of feeling sexy. 

Damn it, y'all- why? Aging can be so rockin', so why are we dampening and diluting ourselves? We should be falling more in love with ourselves, appreciating the intimacy and connection we now have with our true identities after years of spilling rum on our parent's floors when we hear them come upstairs, or spending two hours to see a boy for five minutes that sends us a mere "yo". HOW DARE HE? 

We begin to shrink, to hide ourselves-in photographs behind friends, in bathrobes, slouchy pajamas and over-sized t-shirts. We simply tuck away our sensual feelings and try on shame for size. Frankly, I'm tired of seeing sexy, strong, smart women selling themselves short and leaving their dancing shoes to disintegrate in their closets.

Zumba saves us. Zumba reminds us that it's okay to be sexy in your 30's, sensual in your 60's! Trust me, there's some prime-timers in class that sing louder about that "big booty" than I'm currently able. It's beautiful. It's inspiring. It's empowering. I love to see women shed anxiety and put on confidence. Honestly, I love to see women of all ages, shapes, backgrounds, dance abilities shaking DAT BUTT, and NOT like nobody is watching, but like the entire world is watching.

In Zumba, you are a prowess, a woman rediscovering your sexuality without guilt. In Zumba, you remember, or discover for the first time, that your hips are built for more than propping up toddlers, but for shakin' babe! It's not uncommon for women to feel like they simply shouldn't be sensual, that we just aren't "built to be that way", so we should sit down and calm down.

Ladies-WRONG. Step into a Zumba class with me and be amazed at the energy in the room. Stick with this weird lady for a minute more, but with each twerk, shake, or body roll-we break free of this standard a little more. We assure the world that no, we are not designed to stay in a glass case; we were made to move, to sing, to shout, to jump, to free our bodies of every stigma and every expectation. 

In Zumba, you are ageless.
In Zumba, you are no one's mother or wife. 
In Zumba, there is no one to tell you to quiet down, to stop acting so silly. 
In Zumba, we are just a tribe of women, dancing, shaking dat butt, and bringing sexy back. 

Chicago Marathon Re-Cap

Coming into 2016, I wasn't planning on doing a full marathon. I keep meaning to take a year just to dedicate to speed and half marathon distance at most-now my 2017 plan. So all of you runners out there better not come and try to peer pressure me into running a full with you this coming year because I have plans,  people! 

But-when two of my sweet running friends mentioned entering into the Chicago Marathon lottery, I said-well, what they heck? I only had a 50% chance of getting in anyway, so highly doubted I would even be chosen. After finding out we all three made it into the lottery system, training kicked in full swing. I began training on my family beach vacation, completely high from the idea of running with my friends in such an amazing place. 

For whatever reason, training for this marathon was much different than all my others. Perhaps part of it was that I am pushing myself more than ever pace wise and so that comes with totally new obstacles on top of the already long distance. All previous marathon training has been laid back and easy. This was marathon #8 for me, so I went in feeling like some sort of pro (certainly not, obviously) but as time went on, the training got tougher. To start, I had that random foot problem for a few weeks that I was afraid would put me out of the race. Foam rolling, icing, compressing, elevating, stretching, cross training, etc. all got me through that issue-though the tenderness came back mid race this weekend and then mysteriously went back to hell where it came from afterwards (hooray).

I know that this season of life is by far the busiest season I have ever had. I'm not whining because I actively choose to do everything that I do and I LOVE all the things I am privileged to participate in-but hell, training for a full marathon amidst my already insane life was pretty rough. I was often overly drained and under-rested for my training runs and by the end of training I think my immune system was shot to hell. Granted, my longest training run (22 miler) felt amazing. That was a nice confidence boost and the average pace was right on target. 

To the important stuff:

Chicago is a beautiful city-there's no doubt about it, but I can tell you that I don't truly appreciate city living. I could live forever without visiting all the big cities, pushing through disgruntled people, waiting in all the lines and feeling like a fish out of freaking water. If it weren't for the company, I would have been extremely home sick. Side note-the expo is freaking great, so there's that. 

The crowd support IS as huge as people say it is-you literally feel like you're at the finish line the entire race because there are over 1 million spectators (literally) on the sidelines throughout the entirety of the race. There are 40,000 plus runners, which also means 40,000 plus paper water cups every mile or so for you to nearly trip over. There was also a banana station-just picture a cartoon Britney trying not to slip on a thousand banana peels mid marathon. Yeah. 

Through Mile 15 I felt pretty incredible and already had a PR in the bag, but after that my body was screaming at me that it was tired-so, so tired. My body had felt worn down like it was coming down with something a day or two before the race, but I had come too far to back down, so I took vitamin C and chugged through, hoping that good sleep, carbs and hydrating would do the trick. Ha, false. Even though I was running my fastest time yet, my body was revolting. I became extremely disoriented, drank 5 plus bottles of water and still couldn't get enough to drink. I normally don't hydrate nearly that much-just ask anyone who runs with me. The weather was perfect, cool and breezy, yet my body was reacting like it was in the summer heat. Each time my partner and I would go through a tunnel, I felt like I could fall over, kind of like the most disturbing tunnel scene in Willy Wonka that you could imagine. 

I pushed as hard as possible to the finish despite the rebellion of my own body. I am not a quitter, it's just not a trait I have in me. I finish whatever I start and I dictate when enough is enough. I do not let my feelings dictate if I will reach my goals or not and despite my collected and cool personality, when it comes to running-I am extremely competitive, but mainly with myself. I have always enjoyed overcoming my own mental blocks and physical limits, and despite everything, Chicago was no different. Chicago's finish line was like a break-through, a birth. It was so painful, each step of the last 6 miles was a tearing, a crowning of my own stubbornness and strong will. I believe that runners are the strongest people, not because I am one or because I think we are above people who don't run or don't like to run. I believe it because I have experienced great pain off and on the road and those that share miles with me show more strength than anyone I know. I have seen the pain in a fellow runner's face on the course, barely able to walk, yet stumbling to each mile marker. I have ran through the most painful moments of my life. I have ran through divorce. I have ran through thinking my father was going to die. I have ran when I had nothing left. Runners take their pain and use it to their advantage. That is the strength of the runner. 

 Each marathon I run, I finish it, because even amidst the greatest pain, I look back on my life, everything that hurt me and continues to hurt me, and I refuse to let the pain win. I see the struggles, the adversity, the victories, the people who have loved me and also the people that just sucked and I realize I am stronger than all of it. I am stronger  than them. I let the words of a recent adversary echo in my head and I decided to rise above what was said to me. I decided to rise above the voice that degraded me as an individual, the voice that tried to knock me down as a parent to my boys, the voice that has ever made me feel out of place, any voice that tried to tell me you don't belong in this race. Wrong. I not only belong, I am meant to dominate. 

So I bit my lip, let fire fuel me once again and pushed through. 

After crossing the finish line and finding my partner, I felt my body break. My vision blurred, my legs gave out and I hovered over the nearest recycle bin (probably not the kind of recyclables they wanted). I became "that girl" that gets carried to the medic tent to suck on Gatorade, prop her feet up and gets asked in 500 different ways if she knows where she is. 

Don't worry, I think I just ran myself into the ground and I am totally fine. My body served it's purpose and landed me my fastest time yet, despite the hell it took to get it. I was extremely angry with my body at first for forcing me to lean on two strangers to make it to a medical cot, but days later I can look back and smile. I look back and I see one freaking badass chick who doesn't quit, even when her feet go numb, her hands tingle, her vision becomes impaired. When others might have pulled to the side, that girl pushed through-that girl only listens to the voice that matters, the voice that tells her keep going, you belong here.