A Lesson in Resilience

My beautiful spotted and four legged dalmatian friend, Chester, is 12 years old. Not long after his birthday he started to struggle staying upright. His hind legs just didn't seem to work properly anymore. He would wobble and stumble, and sometimes fall. Two weekends ago, it got worse. He started falling over more; his back end collapsing under him as he walked. He could no longer climb up on to the sofa and his feet would drag along behind him. A few vet visits later, including a consult with a canine neurologist, he was diagnosed with intervertebral disc disease. Basically, he has a number of herniated discs, one of which is causing him some pain and weakness in his hind legs. Surgery to fix the problem is full of risk, and would be hard on his body. Bed rest has therefore been prescribed. Our full of beans dog must stay inactive for at least 4 weeks so that the discs can heal.

Despite the stress of this situation, I am constantly amazed at Chester's tenacity and resilience. He has not lost his sparkle. He is as happy, go lucky as he has ever been. His light still shines extraordinarily brightly. Prior to his mandated bed rest, Chester bounced around the house despite the fact his body didn't really allow him to do so. He tried to get up on the sofa, even though he didn't have the strength. He will not be deterred. He falls over, but gets right back up again. He wobbles, but keeps moving forward. He has just adapted, or maybe just accepted, that his mobility is what it is, and it isn't going to stop him from being a dog. His exuberance is unbounded and it's humbling to see.

His energy and love for life doesn't allow him to accept limits. This is, of course, good and bad, especially when inactivity is critical for his healing. His worldview is not shaped by his new limits and he is just refusing to be different. He has every reason to be sad, or frustrated about this sudden change in mobility, but he just isn't. We have much to learn from our black and white spotted tail wagger.

Around the same time as Chester's illness, I developed another running related injury - a possible stress fracture in the lateral malleolus. I am currently in a boot and there is no running for me. I like to think, however inconvenient the timing, it is a sympathetic injury experienced in solidarity with my best pal. However, I have responded differently to it than Chester has to his change in ability. My issue is temporary, Chester's may not be. And yet, he continues unfazed. I, on the other hand, feel down that I can't run and had to miss a race. 

I want to be like Chester; I want to adapt and continue onwards. I have a new set of circumstances, and that is just the way it is until it isn't anymore. So be it. I think we all have much to learn from our canine friends, and this is probably not new information for the dog lovers out there. Resilience for, and management of, change can be taken in stride if we allow ourselves to respond that way. As runners and triathletes, we can get so hung up on our goals that any impediment or barrier we face can derail our spirit completely. Instead, we should embrace the new circumstance and develop a solution that keeps us moving forward. There is a lesson for me in Chester's response to his new circumstance, and I am trying hard to internalize it. I think we would all be better if we could channel some of Chester's energy right now; keep moving forward and fighting, in spite of the challenges presented.

Chester investigating my new ankle brace/boot

Find your inner tortoise and be happy

For my run today, I decided to listen to a Ted Radio Hour podcast on Happiness. We are close to the start of a new year, like so many of you, I pretty much feel this way about 2016:


via GIPHY

and it was a blue bird day; 50 degrees in late December. The weather helped lift my mood. Perfect running weather.  

As with all things podcast, I am usually hearing insightful comments, quotes, or thought provoking questions every few minutes. When running, these sources of inspiration and intellectual engagement help pass the time, and send my mind into overdrive. Where my mind goes, my legs follow and sure enough, I find my Zone 2 run is hovering more around Zone 4. I have so many thoughts that I wish I could write them down while running. This may prove complicated and perhaps somewhere in that wish is a new generation of gadgets for creative runners. 

Back to the Happiness podcast. Among the many synapses firing from this hour of insight, two things struck me, well three actually. The first is that we move too fast. Our culture promotes doing more with less time, and thus, happiness passes us by because we are too preoccupied with doing rather than being. Second, we have too much stuff. We don't live simply enough and over the course of our lives, accrue a great deal of useless things. None of this stuff contributes to our happiness. The happiness we yield from it, is often momentary or is because the thing is associated with a happy memory. It is not the thing itself that makes us happy. Third, a quote: "it is not happiness that makes us grateful, it's gratefulness that makes us happy" (Brother David Steidl-Rast). I want to talk briefly about gratefulness and happiness and then about our fixation on speed because I see them as connected. I will save "stuff" for another post because there is much to say on that topic. 

Being grateful, according to Steidl-Rast whose Ted Talk was featured in this podcast, is connected to recognizing that every moment we experience is a gift and an opportunity. We have no idea how many more moments will be given to us, how many more opportunities, so we should be grateful for every one. With that gratefulness comes happiness. Steidl-Rast is not saying we should be grateful for everything, because I am not grateful for violence, hate, war and bigotry. What he is saying is that we should avail ourselves of every opportunity given to us, and in so doing, we find happiness. Moments, he argues, are the most valuable things we can be given.

Now to our preoccupation with speed. I am currently contemplating my desire to continue chasing the elusive Boston Marathon qualification time by running yet another marathon in 2017. I had thought that my most recent marathon would be the finale in this story. If I didn't make the cut off, I would release myself from the self-inflicted goal of seeking a qualification time. However, that is not how the post-marathon thinking has played out for me. Which, in hindsight, I should have easily predicted. Runners do have, after all, pretty bad short term memories.

Qualifying for Boston is about getting faster, and with getting faster, comes work. Lots of miles, lots of speed work, and lots of time spent running. The drive to get faster is relentless. And, I am not sure how healthy it is. The qualification bar for women is far easier than it is for men, and yet, for many of us, not reaching it feels like a badge of shame. It reminds me of fairground rides I couldn't go on when I was a kid because I wasn't tall enough. Failing to reach my BQ time evokes the same feelings of inadequacy as standing against the makeshift ruler to determine whether my height met their safety standard. At the fairground ride, I would stand on my tip toes, hoping those extra centimeters would make a difference. This time, it's minutes and seconds and not feet and inches that determine my entry into the club. It is a point of pride for many, many runners to qualify for Boston, and they wear their Boston jackets and shirts like it's their nation's flag. I don't begrudge them that, and yet, it advertises a club to many of us that we can't be a member of. It separates them from us. The fast from the slow. For some of us, no matter how hard we train, those qualifying times are not attainable, like those extra inches elude many of us who just don't grow that tall. 

Speed. My pursuit of it over all else is present in running and in life. According to one of the TED talkers in this podcast, Carl Honore: "We're so marinated in the culture of speed that we almost fail to notice the toll it takes on every aspect of our lives - on our health, our work, our relationships and our community." As these sentiments from the podcast bounced around my brain, and ideas started shooting off in all directions, my pace quickened. My mind and my legs were turning over at a pace far greater than was helpful. I thought about my work, and how my days are not as full as they used to be in different jobs. I crave to be busier. Why? Why can't I enjoy the slower more relaxed pace of my new environment? It is an entire frame shift for me to slow down at work and slow down in running (despite how often I tell my athletes to slow down). According to Honore, U.S. culture makes slowing down a behavior that is shamed or discouraged. He states:

"slow is a dirty word in our culture. It's a byword for lazy, slacker, for being somebody who gives up. You know, he's a bit slow. It's actually synonymous with being stupid. I think there's a kind of metaphysical dimension that speed becomes a way of walling ourselves off from the bigger, deeper questions. We fill our heads with distraction, with busyness so that we don't have to ask - am I well? Am I happy? Are my children growing up right?"

The amount of times I have heard fellow athletes offer up "I'm slow" prior to a run or other workout as if naming it up front anesthetizes them from their embarrassment. They don't profess to be good or fast and just want others around them to know that. What does "slow" really mean when a vast majority of people don't even choose to exercise in any way? Why do we tell ourselves and others we are "slow" or "not as fast" as someone else? We say this self-deprecating statement in fun, but it reveals an underlying sense of shame about our level of ability. 

Faster isn't necessarily better. Running in Zone 4 for every run, work or life activity won't actually make you faster or more efficient, it will just wear you out. U.S. culture promotes Zone 4 all the time for everything with the prestige associated with a BQ time, 40 hour work weeks, minimal PTO, and lack of health and wellness benefits. Is it any wonder many of us struggle with the meaning of happiness when we don't ever give ourselves enough time to really think about it. To be in the moment, and accept each moment as an opportunity, is what we miss. How many more moments will we all get? As Honore says, it's time for us to get "in touch with [our] inner tortoise[s]." Live our lives rather than racing through them.


Quote and information taken from NPR podcast Ted Radio Hour, "Is There a Secret to Happiness?" http://www.npr.org/programs/ted-radio-hour/267185371/simply-happy (2/14/2104) 

Is there a thing as too much traveling?

The latter half of 2016 has involved a lot of work related travel for me. A short trip every week or so on average. My travel has largely been in state and has involved a lot of driving. I started this post on a plane home from a pseudo work-related trip to Atlanta and I remember being really ready to be home. After my Atlanta trip, I traveled for work again the following week and then again a week and a half after that. It is now December, and I have just returned from Sacramento and running the California International Marathon. At this point in 2016, I am pretty much over the traveling, a phrase I never thought I would say.

In general, I think that traveling is important, actually critical for each of us. When we travel and experience and engage with different people, environments, and cultures, we are all the better for it. There is so much to see and do, and so many people to meet and learn from. I have often romanticized traveling for work; wishing for one of those jobs that takes me all over the world on the company dime. While I am not giving up the dream of finding a job that offers me this perk, I am less inclined to believe it would be as fun as I had previously thought. My traveling has reminded me of the George Clooney movie, Up in The Air (2009), where he reaches some magical status with United Airlines because he travels all the time. He has his carry on packing strategy nailed down and knows U.S. airports like the back of his hand. Ultimately though, the story is about loneliness. He lacks connection to others because he is never “home,” whatever home actually means to his character.

The morning before flying back from Atlanta, I went on a long run. A great way to explore a new city and see it comprehensively. I signed up with an Atlanta running meet up group for part of it and got to meet 10 or so Atlanta runners. One of these runners shared that she was headed to Mexico City the next day. She was asked whether she could make this trip on a Thursday, 4 days before she would be required to leave. She talked about it like “ugh, I have to go to Mexico City tomorrow.” I am running alongside and thinking how freaking awesome is that? But now, as I reflect back on my in-state travel schedule these last few months, I understand where she is coming from. I am tired and the idea of flying to Mexico City exhausts me. Her company is a US/Danish owned company and she has traveled to Denmark and other locations fairly frequently. Perhaps like me, she is sick of it. Perhaps this “on the go” work schedule diminishes her capacity to find connection with others as she is never around long enough to build more than fleeting relationships. Of course, that is speculation on my part as she and I did not talk about that.

To be able to travel is itself a privilege, whether you are doing it for work or pleasure. Articulating a struggle with traveling is not to say I don't also recognize the tension between opportunity and fatigue. Being on the go, living out of a suitcase, infrequently eating at home and never feeling quite settled is draining. Whatever we do in our work, the more we do it, the less exciting it gets. At some point, the novelty wears off and it just becomes your life. When things become normal they cease to be as captivating and can often teeter over into feeling like a chore.

I didn’t plan well with my flight home from Atlanta and I didn’t bring headphones or a book. I remember being annoyed at myself for not more effectively planning ahead. I had booked a later flight and had zero recollection why I did that when I could easily have taken an earlier one. In a desperate attempt to maintain some level of alertness, I ordered two sugary and caffeinated drinks. Sadly, they did nothing for the overall fatigue my body felt being on the move all the time. At the time of this flight home, I was also at the height of marathon training (the long run I completed was 20 miles) and I just felt wiped out. My co-traveler and I had lamented about how ready we were to be home, to see our loved ones, and our pups. We craved sleeping in our own bed, eating our own food, and reconnecting with stability.

When I took my current position, I knew there would be travel. It seemed so cool at first to be traveling here, there, and everywhere and I was excited. Now however, I am rethinking much about my initial “Yes! Traveling for work is NO problem,” because I think it kind of is. My travel schedule is nothing like the runner I met in Atlanta or the fictional character in George Clooney’s film, but it still takes a toll and it is lonely. Even when meeting new people or traveling with colleagues, you are sometimes adrift in a new place, eating alone, wishing you could share it with friends or family. Have I hit my travel for work limit? Maybe. I know I am happier now that my flurry of trips is complete.

I guess the message in all this is to take care of yourselves. What may at first seem like a fantastic opportunity doesn't preclude the fact that it might get old or that it might get difficult. Take opportunity, certainly, but be thoughtful about it. Shiny, new things don't stay shiny forever. If you love to travel, and traveling is part of your work, the risk is that travel becomes synonymous with work and thus loses its shine.

Hang On

A couple of weekends ago, I broke through a running ceiling that had been hovering over my head for years: breaking 8 minutes per mile in a half marathon. I ran a 7:57 pace overall and a personal best by 4 ½ minutes. It felt great. Well, after the race it felt great, during, not so much. This race was more of a test of my mental stamina than it was of my physical abilities. I have run 8 minute miles over and over again in training. It is a pace I can absolutely sustain, and can go faster over shorter distances. But the half marathon distance has always been a block. It is the race distance I have completed the most and I know the distance well. Yet, despite practice, knowledge, and desire, I have always ended up on the wrong side of 8 minutes for every half marathon.

Two years ago, when I ran the same half, I managed an 8:19 pace (still a PB at the time). I could’ve gone faster physically but I didn’t believe I could – a culmination of injury memory and self-doubt. My inner dialogue was a back and forth of “I can”/”I can’t,” a tug of war between two arguing siblings. In disagreements, the loudest and/or most persistent voice often wins out. I distinctly remember early on in that race, saying to myself: “I can’t sustain this pace.” My 8:19 average was perhaps a self-fulfilling prophecy.

At this most recent race, I arrived resolved. At the start line, I noted the pacer for a 1:45 half marathon and stuck closely by until the last three miles. The sibling rivalry between “I can” and “I can’t” was still present, knocking on the door, the “I can’t” vying for my undivided attention. I am stronger than I was two years ago and I knew I could’ve run faster two years ago. My mind worked harder than my legs in this race. The miles ticked by, and with them, a 10 mile PR (sub 80 minutes!) and the realization I might actually achieve my goal. With 5k to go, I stepped up the pace. The last mile was hard. It undulates comparative to the rest of the race, meaning you really have to dig deeply to get through it. There was another woman, who had also stuck diligently to the 1:45 pace group leader for 10 miles. In the last mile, she pulled slightly ahead of me but waved me forward to join her side by side. “Come on” she said, “you can do it.” At that point, I didn’t think I could do it, my resolve was crumbling. The “I can’t” was beginning to take over as the stress began to increase. I tried really hard to shut the negative messages out by repeating “you can do it, you can do it” over and over and over to myself, focusing on her encouragement and on my coach’s advice to just “hang on.” My last mile ended up being a 7:33 (my fastest mile) and the oh-so-important “point one,” was a 6:30 average. I crossed the line in 1:44:29, a massive PR and with one smashed 8 minute ceiling.

What holds us back is often the stories we tell ourselves or that our culture and environment teach us. Finding ways to push back against those narratives, and write new ones for ourselves, is central to overcoming barriers in your training (or work, life, etc.) that can habitually stall you. Some people are great at this, others less so. I think I fit into the latter category but continue to try – this most recent “win” has certainly helped. As I prepare for my “A” race this September, my fourth half-iron distance triathlon, I have to remember this as I start my run. We get to write our own stories in these moments. We get to “hang on” if we choose to do so.

Bike to Work Day Blues

The topic of this blog post was decided Wednesday morning on Colorado's "Bike to Work Day" when a fellow rider careened into me after trying to pass a pedestrian on a blind corner.

I support people cycling. I want people to get outside, particularly in this beautiful state, instead of sitting indoors, or sitting in a car sipping on soda. Finding ways to engage in activity that works for you is important not only for your health but also for your soul. Up until this Wednesday, I was a massive supporter of Colorado's annual Bike to Work day. It's fun, there are lots of folks out and about, local bike shops set up aid stations with food and drink so you can stop along the way and grab breakfast and meet new people. It's so much fun, until it isn't.

Wednesday was not fun for me. It was downright painful. At the time I was pretty calm, probably from the shock of being hit and bleeding from the head, but now I am finding I am actually pretty angry. I am angry less because the other rider should not have tried to pass a pedestrian as he came down the slope and around the corner into the underpass, but more because he never once said he was sorry. He hung around a little after calling his wife to come get him, and mumbled some concern for me and my head but never acknowledged that it was his fault or that he should have been paying more attention.

I still find myself wanting to afford him some benefit of the doubt: he was shaken up, he had injured his hand, he wasn't thinking straight. All very possible and natural reactions to an accident. Yet, even with all that, was it that hard for him to sputter out an apology? I even gave him a band aid from my back pack. He left, before the paramedics got to me, and went with his wife to an ER. I am saddened by the complete lack of responsibility exhibited by him. Numerous people I have told about what happened, as I inevitably have to do once they see my black, blue, red and purple eye, repeat the refrain: "Bike to work day is the last day you should bike to work." Even the triage nurse asked upon my arrival at the ER "Bike to work day?" with a small chuckle. The running joke is that most of the bikers who participate in bike to work day have not ridden since the previous one and so the day is best avoided. It is perplexing to me that something that was intended to motivate folks to find alternate ways to get to work that do not put a strain on the environment and help you get healthier in the process, has such a negative reputation among cyclists and medical professionals.

I won't be biking to work for a little while until I heal and I definitely won't be biking on Bike to Work Day 2017. I know this is one incident, and this one accident causer's response may not be representative of everyone who causes an accident. I know that this shouldn't deter me from engaging in the event but it has. It has changed how I view it and has been very difficult to manage.

I stick to bike paths because I believe(d) them to be safer. I always call out "on your left" when I am passing someone and try to be a considerate and thoughtful bike commuter when I do it. But much like driving, I clearly cannot assume that everyone else has that same perspective. I therefore now see Bike to Work Day as dangerous. Encouraging that many inexperienced or aggressive cyclists out on the bike paths and roads at the same time without any real oversight is problematic. My accident was obviously not the first that occurred on this day, nor will it be the last, and there is zero accountability for the person who caused my injuries. Clearly the day has a less than rosy reputation among many and now I see why.

The other compounding piece of this worth noting, is that many of the bike paths are poorly maintained, narrow, and leave little room, if any, for cyclists to maneuver out of the way of those inexperienced or aggressive riders. The Bear Creek Trail, where my accident happened, is one such bike path. It runs all the way to Morrison, but many sections of it are extremely narrow, with broken concrete, bumps and pot holes, sharp 90 degree turns and low visibility for passing. I think you can tell which city or district you are in by how much money they have invested in maintaining the bike path. Some parts of it are wonderful, other parts, not so much.

Fixing these issues is possible and that will have a real impact on people's safety cycling to work. However, the root of my anger over this whole accident is the person's attitude. How do you fix an unapologetic accident causer and hold people accountable for their actions when there is no oversight? A cheery message about the virtues of Bike to Work Day and a free t-shirt do not erase the problems of encouraging 10 times the number of people on bike paths (and roads--don't even get me started on that) ill equipped to safely transport one cyclist.

I didn't get a t-shirt or an apology. Just a black eye, 4 stitches, a bruised leg, and a huge medical bill.

The 5am Project

Since my last blog post about the need and desire to run in the morning, I have had moderate success. It's been a little under 4 weeks and I have been working at getting up at 5am or thereabouts so that I can get all my workouts done before the work day (or really, the heat right now) drags me down. My partner, whose idea the 5am Project was, has had less success. He downloaded an alarm app that is supposed to ease him to wake up but it didn't really work that well. He just generally sleeps through it.

Our attempts are also impacted by our senior dog who nearly always needs to go outside in the middle of the night. He stands by the door and whimpers, the kind of pathetic whimper that breaks your heart. I have never been able to sleep through it. My other dog, rarely needs to pee at night but will of course get up and bounce around outside while our other dog does his business. Continuously broken sleep is not conducive to early morning exercise plans. Nor are Mondays. Early on in this process, I found myself falling asleep at work. This, was of course not the intended outcome of this plan. The blame for my daytime tiredness does not rest solely at the feet of the 5am Project. It is compounded by not having a window, fresh air, or a standing desk in my new office. All things I was used to in my previous job. I had no idea that not having those elements in the workplace would have such an impact on my energy levels. I have seen a noticeable decline in my energy levels throughout the day. Combined with the earlier than usual mornings, midday nap time began knocking loudly on my door.

However, I have persevered with my plan. Last week, as the temperatures rose, I was deeply thankful I pushed through the snooze button and got my runs done early. I completed one after an open water swim and the other two I forced myself to get up, stay up, and go out. I still have not figured out a way to get up and run immediately, and take about 60 minutes acclimation time before heading out the door. But, I am heading out the door and in the right direction. It feels good to be done for the day before 9am; I feel so accomplished. I knew I would and this is one of the primary reasons coaches and runners alike argue athletes should workout in the morning.

I don't have any profound wisdom to share from this journey so far, other than to say it has been hard. When I know I am going to get up early, I stress about getting to bed earlier, and then have trouble falling asleep, my desire to hear my alarm clock infiltrates my dreams as anxiety. I infrequently sleep through an alarm, so there is rationally no reason to think I would start to do so now, yet the fear is there and I let it win sometimes. When it wins, my nights are fragmented dream/wake states that leave me feeling groggy and un-rested when the sun comes up. I know, or at least hope, I will find my rhythm and over time will adjust. I encourage you to try this too. I know it can be done by folks who have kids and folks who do not. I have read enough success stories to know that people with wide and varying commitments can pull this off. It is just a case of being thoughtful and efficient with the time you have and making choices that support the lifestyle change. Alarms, dogs, heat and any number of things can derail your plans. They may even appear to be conspiring against you, as though your inner night owl is throwing road block after road block your way in defiance of your new early night, early to rise routine. The key is not to let the set backs derail all plans, present and future. One poor night's sleep should not lead us each to the conclusion that morning running or exercise isn't worth the effort. When faced with a 6am 60 degree run vs a 6pm 90 degree run, I think the choice is pretty clear.

Morning Running

For the longest time, I have wanted to be a morning person. More specifically, I have wanted to be a morning runner. I absolutely see the benefits of running in the morning:

1. You get your run done, and so as you fatigue from working all day, the workout isn't hanging over your head, glaring at you from its perch at 5pm.

2. It sets you up for the day. Running in the morning feels good. You accomplish something before 8am and it can put a pep in your step for the rest of the day.

3. Depending on where you run, it is beautiful - particularly if you see the sunrise.

4. It is cooler. This is very relevant right now as we edge into the summer months in Colorado.

And yet, despite these wonderfully compelling benefits, I have yet to maintain any kind of morning rhythm with running. I can get up early to swim and I have managed it with cycling, if I head downstairs to ride on my trainer indoors or if I am cycling to work. In both cases, I feel good, sometimes even great, after achieving an athletic goal that early. I know I will feel the same way with running as on the rare occasions I have run before work, I have felt awesome and accomplished.

I am not a "just get up and run" kind of runner. I need to eat something, and running 8 miles on coffee alone does not cut it. If I need to eat something, then I need to give myself time to digest said food before heading out for my run. That's at least 45 mins that I need before heading out the door, by which time I can usually convince myself to stay in bed. Then there is the stiffness I feel in the morning, and shaking that out into some kind of rhythm takes a fair number of miles. This adds more time to the run, which inevitably I never have because I snoozed too many times. And so I persuade myself that I won't have time anyway, and I might as well just stay in bed. You can see the cycle of excuses and justifications I can give for why morning runs don't work for me (unless it's a race, and then miraculously I can manage it).

In an effort to curb my morning snooze routine and the "I'll just do it later" voice in my head, I have read numerous articles from running gurus to personal blogs about tips to get up and out the door early. I have tried:

- laying my running clothes out at night
- getting my breakfast out and ready to reduce prep time
- determining a route the night before
- setting the alarm 15 minutes earlier so that I have time to snooze
- going to bed earlier
- gradually setting my alarm clock 5 minutes earlier over a period of several days so that I gently and incrementally get to the time I need

Yeah, even with these efforts, I have had minimal success. So what am I missing? I don't agree that some folks just aren't morning people, because I think it is all about shifting your lifestyle and making different choices over time (caveat: sleep disorders and other physical issues will factor in to one's capacity to rise early). I have clearly demonstrated I can get my butt out of bed for other forms of exercise and to race, and when I go to bed early, I am getting a good 7-8 hours of sleep. I am thinking it really is about my attitude and mental fortitude and perhaps, a socially constructed dislike of mornings. What did mornings ever do to me? 

Since tenacity is something I have been told I possess, I am going to try this whole morning running again, this time with feeling. And to reference my previous blog post, I am going to try and act "as if" I am a morning runner. I don't run every day but I do something most days, and I am going to endeavor to get all workouts done before 8am in the next month and report back in July as to how it went and what I learned. I will call it the "5am Project" and David, my partner in running and life is going to do it with me (actually it was his idea). Misery loves company, right? Although, this is going to be great, not miserable. Absolutely great! Positive attitude. Check. Got it. #icandothis...?

Wish us luck!