The finish line was at the top of a set of stairs, about two stories high. As I approached the first step, I expected my legs to feel like rubber after running 10 rigorous miles of tails. Instead, to my absolute joy and surprise, my strong, muscled legs carried me effortlessly up the stairs. Thank you cable box step ups at the gym!
Ten miles of trail running. Ten months after my death.
Of course, spoiler alert: I came back.
This run was simply another chapter in Celeste 2.0's resurrection and another opportunity to do life better.
Less regrets.
Ten miles. It may not sound like a big deal to everyone, but it was to me. Another step—literally—in recognizing how fortunate I am to still be here and able to do these things.
I have friends and family members who have passed away, some far too young.
For reasons I will never understand, I got another chance.
I get another chance.
What I can do is remind myself to celebrate everything. Not with parties and streamers, necessarily, but with personal, internal cheering. Celebrating what this body can do.
I made a full recovery from the cardiac arrest caused by my SCAD. That means I can continue to make choices about how I live my life. That's what I want people to understand.
Think about how incredible the body is. Mine fought to save itself in the days before I even knew what was happening. And then, once the tissue blocking my artery was cleared, my heart and body did the remarkable work of healing itself.
I was blessed. I was lucky.
But I also came away with a renewed understanding of how important it is to take care of ourselves. Not because we can predict the future or control everything that happens, but because caring for our bodies gives us the best opportunity to preserve our independence and our choices.
Health span vs lifespan.
Quality of life vs Duration.
Choices about how we want to live until our final day on this planet.
Nope, I'm not pretending I can foresee the future. But I believe that if I keep showing up each day to do hard things, embrace discomfort, plan, train, and practice—with a focus on progress rather than perfection—I can help prolong my independence and preserve my ability to make choices and do fun stuff.
And I intend to keep doing plenty of fun stuff!
My Personal Athlete Guidelines
Here's what that looks like for me as an athlete.
Every morning, I start with 5–10 minutes of myofascial release to maintain mobility, followed by 4–5 minutes of a yoga flow I've created for myself. Then I'm ready to begin my day.
My weekly fitness goals include:
Strength training: 4 sessions
Swimming: 2 miles
Biking: 50 miles
Running: 10–15 miles
Osteo jumps: 2 minutes, 4 times per week, to support bone density
These aren't about chasing perfection or checking off boxes just for the sake of doing so. I truly enjoy doing these activities, showing up, staying strong, maintaining mobility, and continuing to build a body that I can trust, feel safe in, and allows me to live my life of choices.
Ten miles up a trail. Two stories of stairs. Legs that still have the strength to carry me.
I'm celebrating all of it.
Because I know what it’s like to almost lose the opportunity to do any of it.
And I do intend to aim for progress not perfection with gratitude.
What’s your Personal Podium?