Healing & Legacy

Truth, Duty, Honor: Celebrating VWIL and the Legacy of Dr. Brenda Bryant

For me, the Virginia Women’s Institute for Leadership is one of those experiences.

When I arrived at Mary Baldwin and became part of VWIL, I knew I was joining something unusual. What I could not fully appreciate then was that I was becoming part of a history that was still being written.

Founded in 1995, the Virginia Women’s Institute for Leadership was created to develop women as leaders through academics, physical training, discipline, service, military training, and leadership education. Today, VWIL remains the only all-female corps of cadets in the United States.

Caption: The early years of the Virginia Women’s Institute for Leadership. Photo courtesy of Mary Baldwin University.

But programs like VWIL are not built by institutions alone.

They are built by people.

They are built by the people who believe in an idea before anyone knows whether it will succeed. They are built by the people willing to establish traditions where none existed before. And they are built by the people who invest themselves in the young women who will eventually carry those traditions forward.

One of the most important of those people was Dr. Brenda Bryant.

More Than an Advisor

Dr. Brenda L. Bryant, founding director of the Virginia Women’s Institute for Leadership. Photo courtesy of Mary Baldwin University

When I think about Dr. Brenda Bryant, I don’t simply remember an administrator or the founding director of VWIL.

I remember a mentor.

I remember a sounding board.

And I remember someone whose presence in my life did not simply end when my time as a cadet ended.

Caption: Dr. Brenda Bryant holding my second-born child during one of our visits to her office. Our relationship continued beyond my years as a VWIL cadet—a reminder that her mentorship often extended far beyond graduation. Photo from my personal collection.

I continued to visit Dr. Bryant after my years as a cadet. One of the photographs I treasure is of her holding my second-born child during one of those visits to her office.

Looking at that photograph now reminds me that the relationships formed through VWIL were never confined to formations, classrooms, or the years we spent at Mary Baldwin. For some of us, those relationships followed us into the next chapters of our lives.

Dr. Bryant was someone you could sit down with when you were facing a difficult question or struggling to figure out what to do next.

She would listen.

She would talk through the situation with you.

She would offer guidance.

But she didn’t necessarily give you the answer.

Instead, she would remind you to use the tools you had collected along the way.

Looking back, I understand how important that lesson was.

She wasn’t trying to create women who would always need someone else to tell them what to do. She was helping us learn how to trust what we had been taught, examine the situation in front of us, and make decisions for ourselves.

That is leadership.

She saw the individual woman underneath the uniform.

She listened.

She challenged us.

She advised us.

And she trusted that we were capable of finding our way.

Leadership was not simply something Dr. Bryant taught.

She practiced it.

She showed up.

The Heart and Soul of VWIL

Dr. Bryant once described the cadets themselves as the “heart and soul of the program.”

Those words still resonate.

Because VWIL has always been more than uniforms, formations, inspections, parades, physical training, and military traditions.

Those things are part of it.

But they are not the whole story.

VWIL Corps of Cadets during the 2015 Change of Command parade. Photo courtesy of Mary Baldwin University.

VWIL is about discovering what happens when you are tired and still have responsibilities.

It is about learning that leadership does not always mean being the loudest person in the room.

It is learning how to lead and how to follow.

It is accountability.

It is service.

It is sisterhood.

And sometimes it is learning to stop, look at everything you have experienced and everything you have been taught, and ask yourself:

What tools do I already have to handle this?

The words Truth, Duty, Honor become more than words when you spend years being challenged to live according to them.

More Than a Uniform

When you are a cadet, it can be difficult to see beyond the immediate experience.

There is always another responsibility.

Another formation.

Another class.

Another challenge.

Another standard you are expected to meet.

But eventually, you graduate.

You take off the uniform.

And life presents challenges that no training manual could have predicted.

There is no advisor standing beside you.

There is no handbook telling you exactly what to do.

There isn’t always an obvious right answer.

Those are the moments when you discover what your education truly gave you.

You reach into that collection of tools you have gathered throughout your life and decide which one the situation requires.

More than two decades after my own time as a cadet, I still carry some of those tools with me.

And I still carry Dr. Bryant’s lesson with me.

Watching the Legacy Continue

Perhaps one of the most meaningful things about VWIL for me today is realizing that its story did not end when my class graduated.

We became part of its foundation.

Other women came behind us.

And then other women came behind them.

Today, I have the extraordinary experience of watching my own daughter walk the same campus and become part of the same Corps of Cadets that helped shape me.

Present-day VWIL Corps of Cadets: The legacy continues. Today’s VWIL Corps of Cadets carries forward a tradition of leadership, service, discipline, and sisterhood. Photo from my personal collection

There is something difficult to put into words about watching the next generation step into a tradition you once carried yourself.

The uniforms change.

The cadets change.

The world changes.

But the responsibility to develop women who understand leadership, service, integrity, courage, and accountability continues.

My daughter is having her own VWIL experience.

She is facing her own challenges.

She is developing her own understanding of leadership.

And she is collecting her own tools along the way.

That is legacy.

nULL Induction Parade 2026- Current VWIL Staff

Remembering Dr. Brenda Bryant

Dr. Bryant died in 2012 after battling breast cancer, but her presence remains intertwined with the story of VWIL.

The Brenda Bryant Memorial 5K Run/Walk gives alumni, cadets, families, friends, and community members an opportunity to come together and honor her life and legacy while supporting the next generation of VWIL cadets through the Brenda Bryant Memorial Scholarship.

We will run.

We will walk.

We will remember.

But more importantly, we will continue.

Because perhaps the greatest tribute we can give someone who dedicated so much of herself to developing leaders is to make sure the work continues long after she is gone.

The Women Who Carry It Forward

VWIL began in 1995.

More than three decades later, the Corps is still here.

Caption: VWIL’s Change of Command parade symbolizes both transition and continuity as one generation of cadet leaders passes responsibility to the next. Photo courtesy of Mary Baldwin University.

Generations of women have marched across Mary Baldwin’s campus.

They have completed Wilderness.

They have endured early mornings.

They have pushed through physical training.

They have learned to lead their peers and to be accountable to one another.

They have served their communities.

They have graduated, commissioned into the military, entered civilian careers, raised families, built organizations, and carried pieces of VWIL into communities around the world.

We are no longer simply cadets standing in formation.

We are alumnae.

We are mothers.

We are military officers and veterans.

We are professionals, educators, public servants, advocates, entrepreneurs, community leaders, and so much more.

And now some of us have the privilege of watching our daughters become cadets themselves.

They did not simply create a four-year college program.

They created something capable of surviving beyond them.

They created a legacy.

Truth. Duty. Honor.

Leaders of VWIL, past and present: (bottom row, l-r) The late Brig. Gen. Michael Bissell served as the first commandant of VWIL, and the late Brenda Bryant served as the first program director. (top row, l-r) Brig. Gen. Terry Djuric is the current commandant of cadets, and Command Sergeant Major Gerald Johnson was the second senior enlisted advisor. Photo courtesy of Mary Baldwin University.

When I think about VWIL now, I don’t think only about what happened during my years at Mary Baldwin.

I think about the women who came before me.

I think about the women who stood beside me.

I think about the women who came after us.

And now, I think about my daughter and the young women standing in formation today.

We are separated by years, experiences, and generations, but we belong to the same story.

Dr. Brenda Bryant helped write the opening chapters of that story.

Those of us who had the privilege of knowing her carry pieces of her with us—in lessons, conversations, moments of encouragement, and in that quiet reminder to use the tools we have collected along the way.

Today’s cadets are now writing their own chapter.

Someday, they will take off their uniforms too.

They will step into careers, families, communities, and lives that will present challenges none of us can predict.

And when those moments come, I hope they remember what generations of VWIL women have learned:

You may not have all the answers.

You may not know exactly what comes next.

But somewhere along the journey, you have been collecting tools.

Trust yourself enough to use them.

That is why preserving VWIL matters.

That is why remembering Dr. Brenda Bryant matters.

And that is why, when we gather for the Brenda Bryant Memorial 5K, we are celebrating far more than a race.

We are honoring a woman.

We are celebrating a Corps.

We are preserving a legacy.

And we are reminding the next generation of VWIL women that the story is now theirs to carry forward.

Truth. Duty. Honor.

Health & Fitness

Training for the Richmond Half Marathon: Learning when to rest

Training for a half marathon has a way of teaching you things that have very little to do with running.

This week, my lesson has been about rest—and I haven’t particularly enjoyed it.

As I continue training for the Richmond Half Marathon, an old injury started acting up again. I tried to pay attention to what my body was telling me, and eventually I went to see my family doctor. After evaluating what was going on, she recommended that I take some time away from training to allow my body to rest. She also recommended medication to help manage the pain and muscle discomfort I’ve been experiencing.

So, for now, the running shoes are taking a break.

And apparently, I am supposed to be okay with that.

When Rest Doesn’t Feel Productive

I am not very good at taking breaks from a training schedule.

There’s something satisfying about looking at a plan and completing each workout as scheduled. Run. Check. Strength training. Check. Long run. Check.

Resting because my body needs it feels different.

There’s no mileage to record. No pace to analyze. No little accomplishment waiting for me at the end of the workout.

And I’ve been restless.

Part of me wants to get back out there because I have a race I’m preparing for and goals I want to accomplish. But I’m also trying to change the way I think about productivity.

Sometimes doing more isn’t the productive choice.

Sometimes the productive choice is stopping.

Listening to My Body—and My Doctor

One of the things I’m learning through this training cycle is that there is a difference between discomfort that comes with challenging myself and pain that deserves my attention.

This time, my body was asking me to listen.

And my doctor was asking me to do the same thing.

So I am.

The time away from running has actually been helping. The pain and discomfort have had an opportunity to settle, which is a pretty good reminder that perhaps my body knew what it was talking about.

That doesn’t mean I’ve suddenly become good at sitting still.

I haven’t.

Finding Other Ways to Move

Since running isn’t currently on the schedule, I’ve been finding gentler ways to occupy myself while I wait for my doctor’s recommended rest period to end.

I’ve been stretching.

I’ve been working on small projects in the garden.

I’ve been moving when it feels appropriate without turning every bit of movement into a workout.

And maybe that’s part of the lesson too.

My garden doesn’t grow faster because I stand over it demanding that it hurry up.

Some things need time.

Apparently, runners do too.

Rest Is Still Part of the Training

I’m trying to remind myself that taking some time off doesn’t erase the work I’ve already done.

A few missed runs don’t suddenly mean that I’m no longer training for the Richmond Half Marathon.

Right now, rest is the training.

The goal isn’t simply to make it through every workout on my training calendar. The goal is to arrive at the starting line healthy enough to run—and hopefully enjoy—the race I’ve been preparing for.

If slowing down for a little while gives me a better chance of doing that, then slowing down isn’t failure.

It’s strategy.

And perhaps it’s growth.

There was a time when I probably would have been much more tempted to push through the pain because stopping felt like weakness. I’m learning to see things differently now.

Caring for my body isn’t something I do instead of pursuing my goals.

It’s part of how I pursue them.

Waiting for the Next Run

I’m still restless.

I’m still thinking about running.

And yes, I’m already looking forward to putting my shoes back on.

But for now, I’m stretching, tending to my garden, following my doctor’s recommendations, and giving my body the time it’s asking for.

The Richmond Half Marathon is still ahead of me.

My training hasn’t ended.

It has simply entered a quieter phase.

And maybe this week isn’t about learning how far I can run.

Maybe it’s about learning when not to.

— Lulu

Come Grow With Me 🌱

Haven Harvest Living is about building a life rooted in purpose—through food, gardening, movement, books, and reflection.

Follow along as I continue my journey toward the Richmond Half Marathon and learn what it means to move, rest, and grow with intention.

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Health & Fitness · Health & Fitness

Running for Someone You Will Never Meet

The Fallen Heroes 5 Miler | July 4, 2026

Some races are about chasing a personal record.

Some are about checking another finish line off a training plan.

This race has never been either of those for me.

Every Fourth of July, I lace up my shoes knowing that someone else’s story will be running beside me.

This year, I ran in memory of Corporal Orville Gerena, a Marine from Virginia Beach who made the ultimate sacrifice on February 6, 2006, during Operation Iraqi Freedom.

When I pinned his name to my race bib, he stopped being just another name in a history book.

For five miles, he became the reason I kept moving.


This year’s race was brutally hot.

There were moments when every runner around me was feeling the weight of the Virginia summer. Sweat soaked our shirts before the first mile was over, and the sun showed no mercy.

But somehow, complaining about the heat felt small.

The men and women we were honoring endured hardships most of us will never fully understand.

Running five miles in uncomfortable weather suddenly didn’t seem like much at all.

More Than a Race

One of my favorite moments each year is walking beneath the enormous American flag suspended between two fire trucks.

It is impossible to stand underneath it without feeling something.

Not politics.

Not division.

Just gratitude.

Gratitude for people willing to serve something larger than themselves.

As I crossed beneath that flag, I couldn’t help but think about all of the families whose Fourth of July celebrations forever changed because someone they loved never came home.

Freedom has always had a cost.

This race reminds me not to forget who paid it.

The Finish Line

Crossing the finish line felt different this year.

I wasn’t celebrating a fast time.

I wasn’t celebrating a personal best.

I was simply thankful.

Thankful that I had the health to run.

Thankful that communities continue to gather to remember those who served.

Thankful that one more name—Corporal Orville Gerena—was spoken, remembered, and honored.

Because remembrance matters.

People are only truly forgotten when no one remembers their stories.

Why I’ll Keep Coming Back

There are many races on my calendar each year.

Some challenge my endurance.

Some help me train for bigger goals.

But this one reminds me why I started running in the first place.

Running isn’t always about competing.

Sometimes it’s about carrying someone else’s memory forward, one mile at a time.

As I continue working toward my goal of running 65 half marathons by the age of 65, I hope I never lose sight of races like this—races that remind me that every step can have a purpose beyond myself.

Thank you, Corporal Gerena.

And thank you to every service member who made the ultimate sacrifice.

You are remembered.

Health & Fitness

Healing Isn’t Always About Recovery—Sometimes It’s About Discovery

For a long time, I thought healing meant getting back to who I was before the trauma.

I thought the goal was to recover the version of myself that existed before the disappointments, betrayals, losses, and difficult experiences that shaped my life.

But lately, I’ve been wondering if healing is something entirely different.

What if healing isn’t about returning to who we were?

What if healing is about discovering who we have been all along?

A few days ago, I had a realization while talking with my children. They helped me see something I had never fully understood.

I have spent years believing there was something wrong with me.

Years believing I wasn’t enough.

Years focusing on my flaws, mistakes, and shortcomings.

Yet the people who know me best saw something very different.

They saw beauty where I saw imperfections.

They saw strength where I saw weakness.

They saw resilience where I saw brokenness.

And it made me wonder how many of us are carrying stories about ourselves that are no longer true.

Trauma has a way of changing the lens through which we view our lives.

It can convince us that we are less capable than we really are.

Less lovable than we really are.

Less worthy than we really are.

The trauma happened.

The pain was real.

But the story we tell ourselves because of the trauma isn’t always accurate.

Healing has taught me that growth doesn’t always look dramatic.

Sometimes it looks like taking a walk when you’d rather stay in bed.

Sometimes it looks like going for a run even when your pace is slower than you’d like.

Sometimes it looks like planting a garden and trusting that something beautiful can grow from the soil.

Sometimes it looks like setting a boundary.

Sometimes it looks like asking for help.

And sometimes it looks like finally seeing yourself through kinder eyes.

The truth is that I am still healing.

I suspect I always will be.

But I no longer see healing as a process of fixing a broken person.

I see it as a process of uncovering the person who has been there all along beneath the fear, the pain, and the self-doubt.

That person is stronger than she realized.

More capable than she believed.

And perhaps even more beautiful than she allowed herself to see.

Maybe that’s what healing really is.

Not becoming someone new.

But finally meeting yourself.

As we recognize PTSD Awareness Month, I hope we can expand the conversation beyond symptoms and diagnoses. Trauma affects real people—people who are raising families, going to work, building gardens, pursuing dreams, and quietly carrying burdens that others may never see.

Healing is possible. Recovery is possible. And sometimes the most important discovery is realizing that you were never as broken as trauma led you to believe.

Reflection Question

Have you ever discovered that something you believed about yourself wasn’t actually true?

I’d love to hear your thoughts in the comments.

Trauma has a way of changing the lens through which we view our lives.

PTSD is often misunderstood as something that only affects combat veterans, but trauma can result from many different experiences, including childhood adversity, domestic violence, neglect, medical trauma, accidents, or the loss of a loved one.

One of the most common trauma responses is hypervigilance—the feeling that you must constantly scan for danger even when you are safe. Another is the tendency to see yourself through the lens of survival rather than through the lens of your strengths.

Trauma changes the brain and the body. It can affect sleep, relationships, self-esteem, and even physical health. These responses are not signs of weakness. They are signs that your nervous system learned to protect you.

The good news is that healing is possible.

Healing may involve therapy, supportive relationships, movement, mindfulness practices, healthy boundaries, and learning to extend compassion toward yourself.

There is no “right” timeline for healing. Your pace is the right pace.

Health & Fitness · Health & Fitness

Marine Corps Historic Half: Progress Over Perfection

There’s something humbling about lining up at the starting line of the Marine Corps Historic Half knowing that the weather may test you just as much as the distance itself.

This year’s race was warmer than expected, and I knew early on that trying to force the pace I originally planned for would have probably ended badly. Instead of fighting my body, I listened to it. I adjusted my pace, focused on consistency, and reminded myself that endurance is just as much mental as it is physical.

And honestly? That decision paid off.

I finished the race more than 10 minutes faster than I did last year.

That improvement means a lot to me because it wasn’t about suddenly becoming an elite runner overnight. It came from months of small decisions:

  • showing up even when I was tired,
  • training after long shifts,
  • learning how to recover properly,
  • and being willing to adapt instead of quitting.

Two things that genuinely helped me this training season were Strava and Runna. Strava helped me stay accountable and track my progress over time, while Runna gave me more structure and helped me train with intention instead of just running aimlessly.

One of the biggest lessons I’m learning as a runner is that every race day requires flexibility. You can train for months, but weather, stress, sleep, nutrition, and life itself will still influence performance. The goal is not perfection. The goal is learning how to adapt without giving up.

Some miles felt strong.
Some miles felt long.
Some hills still humbled me.

But I kept going.

Crossing that finish line reminded me how important it is to celebrate progress, even when the journey doesn’t look flawless. Last year’s version of me would be proud of how far I’ve come physically and mentally.

Running has become more than exercise for me. It has become proof that growth happens slowly, quietly, and often long before anyone else can see it.

And this race reminded me that I’m stronger than I think.


What Helped Me Most This Training Cycle

  • Structured training plans
  • Slowing down on recovery days
  • Adjusting for weather conditions
  • Staying consistent instead of chasing perfection
  • Listening to my body instead of my ego
  • Fueling and hydrating better before long runs
  • Remembering that progress is still progress, even if the run doesn’t feel “perfect”

Final Thoughts

If you’re training for a race right now, especially as a beginner or someone returning to running, give yourself grace.

Every mile counts.
Every slow run counts.
Every decision to keep showing up counts.

You do not have to run perfectly to grow.

And sometimes the biggest victory is simply becoming stronger than you were the year before.

Health & Fitness · Health & Fitness

Running Toward 65: Taking Control of My Health

This Isn’t Just About Running

I got into running before the age of 10, and for a long time, it was just a part of who I was. Over the years, I stepped away from it more than once—sometimes because of injuries, and other times because life, especially motherhood, demanded more of me. Running slowly became something I used to do… instead of something I returned to. But as my children got older, I started to feel this quiet pull. Like something in me was asking me to come back to it. To lace up my shoes again. To reconnect with what once felt natural.

I was never the fastest runner, and honestly, that was never the point. I ran because it was something I could control.
Because it gave me space. Because, for a little while, the focus could just be on me and what I needed. Then everything shifted.

Two years ago, my mother passed away from a preventable medical condition at the age of 65. That loss changed how I look at my health—and my future. What made it even harder to ignore was the pattern. My maternal grandmother also passed away at 65. She was the youngest in her generation. Just like my mother. And just like me. That realization stayed with me. And I knew I didn’t want that to be my story.

I want to outlive them both. I want something different. And the only way that happens is by taking control of my health. So, at the end of 2025, I made the decision to start running again—consistently this time. Around Christmas, the idea came to me:

65 half marathons.

Not all at once, and not rushed, but over time and with intention, I plan to run at least two half marathons a year—knowing realistically I may need to average closer to three to reach my goal of 65 before my 65th birthday. This journey isn’t about running for the sake of running; it’s about making a decision and understanding that it will be challenging at times. I’m choosing to share this because I want to encourage anyone who finds themselves thinking about their mortality or facing health challenges. Life will always bring obstacles, but when we learn to look at them through a different lens, those same challenges can lead us to something meaningful—maybe even something joyful


Just Showing Up

These days, my routine is pretty simple. I follow my training plan on Runna, I lace up my shoes, and I go. Some days feel strong.
Some days feel slow. Some days, I don’t feel like going at all. And on those days, I’ve learned something important. I don’t have to be perfect. I just have to show up. And when my body needs rest? I take it. Because I’m not trying to burn out or get injured trying to prove something. I’m trying to build something that lasts.


Changing the Direction

At some point, this stopped being about “just getting in shape.” It became something deeper. Health doesn’t just happen. It’s built on the small decisions. In the habits we keep. In the moments we choose to show up—even when we don’t feel like it. Running has become one of those habits. Not because it’s always easy. But because it creates space—for clarity, for strength, and for something that feels like peace.


Finding Something I Didn’t Expect

I didn’t expect to enjoy this. That’s probably the most surprising part. Running has given me a kind of stillness I didn’t know I needed. There’s something about being out there, moving forward—even when things feel heavy—that shifts something mentally. It clears space. And in that space, I’ve found something that feels a lot like joy. Another part of this journey that I didn’t expect was the sense of community. I joined two local running groups, and through them, I’ve met some really great people—people who understand the effort it takes just to show up. On the days when my motivation is low, that sense of community makes a difference. It helps keep me accountable. It reminds me that I’m not doing this alone. And that’s something I’m truly grateful for.


Thinking About the Future

I’m in my early 40s now. And I think about the future a little differently. I’m not just thinking about getting through the day or the week. I’m thinking about being here long enough—and healthy enough—to really live. To show up for my children.
To be present in their lives. And maybe one day, to meet my grandchildren. That matters to me.


Learning to Listen

One thing running is teaching me is how to listen to my body. Don’t ignore pain. I learned that the hard way and was sidelined for several years. Running is going to hurt, and it is good to know which pain to take seriously and which one to listen to. Don’t push past everything; sometimes rest is exactly what you need. Because rest is part of the work, too, learning this concept has helped my running so much more than before. And choosing not to get injured? That’s part of the discipline.


The Story I’m Writing Now

This isn’t about being the fastest runner. Or having the perfect training schedule. Or doing everything right. This is about showing up for myself in a way I didn’t before, about choosing health. About choosing longevity. About choosing something different. One run at a time. I have tried out different running apps over the years to help create a safe and realistic training schedule. I downloaded the Runna app in May of 2025, and I used it to train for the Blue and Gray Half Marathon in December 2025. I felt strong and ready for that. Sticking with the running schedule my team of trainers created really helped me feel strong and confident to complete that race.


Let’s Talk

If you’ve been thinking about taking control of your health…Start where you are. Start small- by either getting a gym membership, joining local fitness clubs in your area, and setting small goals that can be expanded as you grow on your health journey. It is not about perfection; it is about taking control of your health and learning about what works for you. Running works for me because it allows me to be out in nature. You don’t need perfect timing or perfect conditions; there will never be a perfect time or season to take charge of your life and health. If you decide to start today, then go for it.

Health & Fitness · Health & Fitness

Back in Training: Lessons I’m learning the hard way.

I’m officially back in full training mode for the historic marine corps half marathon and let me tell you… I’ve already learned a few lessons the hard way.

This past week has been a mix of progress, setbacks, and a whole lot of reflection.

Lesson #1: Hydration Is Not Optional

A few days ago, I’m pretty sure I overlooked my hydration.

And my body made sure I paid for it.

I ended up violently throwing up and dealing with intense cold chills shortly after. It was honestly scary—and a clear reminder that hydration isn’t something I can afford to play around with, especially while training at this level.

That experience alone forced me to slow down and reassess.

Lesson #2: Preparation Changes Everything

Yesterday, I went on a practice “race day” run.

This time, I came prepared.

I made hydration a priority beforehand, and I could feel the difference immediately. My energy was better, my body felt more stable, and I didn’t hit that same wall.

I also had my music playlist ready—and that helped more than I expected. It kept me from starting too fast and helped me stay in a steady rhythm with my pacing and breathing.

Sometimes it’s the small things that make the biggest difference.

Lesson #3: The Wrong Gear Will Humble You Quickly

What I didn’t account for?

My socks.

I wore the wrong pair, and by the time I finished my run and got home, I realized I had developed painful, bloody blisters.

That was another tough lesson.

Because no matter how mentally prepared you are, the wrong gear can completely throw you off.

Where I Am Now

Right now, I’m focused on figuring out how to properly treat these blisters while still staying on track with my training schedule.

Because stopping completely isn’t the goal—but pushing through pain the wrong way isn’t smart either.

It’s about finding that balance.

Final Thoughts

If there’s one thing I’m learning in this season, it’s this:

Preparation matters.

Listening to your body matters.

And every mistake is a lesson—if you’re willing to learn from it.

This journey isn’t perfect… but I’m committed to it.

Health & Fitness · Health & Fitness

Listening to Your Body: When Slowing Down Is the Real Strength

For many years, I believed strength meant pushing through discomfort.

Run the extra mile.

Drink the extra cup of coffee.

Stay busy.

Ignore the little warning signs.

Like many people balancing work, family, and personal goals, I convinced myself that slowing down meant falling behind.

But the body has a way of getting our attention.

Recently, I experienced persistent chest discomfort that forced me to pause and really listen to what my body was trying to tell me. It wasn’t easy. As someone who enjoys running, gardening, cooking, and staying active with my kids, the idea of stepping back—even temporarily—felt frustrating.

But sometimes the strongest thing we can do is stop and pay attention.

Your Body Is Always Communicating

Our bodies are constantly sending signals:

Fatigue Digestive issues Muscle soreness Headaches Shortness of breath

Too often we silence those signals with caffeine, stress, or sheer determination.

But ignoring them doesn’t make them disappear.

It only delays the moment when our body demands rest.

Wellness Isn’t Just About Exercise

When people think about health and fitness, they often focus on workouts.

But real wellness is much broader.

It includes:

What we eat How we manage stress The quality of our sleep Our emotional wellbeing How well we listen to our body

For me, this has meant making small adjustments—watching my diet more closely, reducing certain triggers, and being more intentional about rest.

None of these things feel dramatic, but together they create balance.

Strength Looks Different Than We Think

Strength is not always pushing harder.

Sometimes strength looks like:

Skipping a workout to recover Drinking water instead of another cup of coffee Scheduling a doctor’s appointment instead of ignoring symptoms Taking a quiet walk instead of an intense run

It’s about respecting the body that carries us through life.

The Long Game

Health and fitness is not a short race. It’s a lifelong journey.

I still plan to run.

I still plan to garden.

I still plan to cook nourishing meals for my family.

But I’m learning that caring for my body today is what allows me to keep doing those things tomorrow.

And that might be the most important fitness lesson of all.

Feedback : Have you ever had a moment when your body forced you to slow down and listen?

Health & Fitness · Health & Fitness

When Plans Change: Training Smarter, Not Harder

January didn’t unfold the way I expected — and honestly, that feels like a theme I’m learning to accept more gracefully.

I was scheduled to run a 5K earlier this winter, but the race was first rescheduled to the first weekend in February and then eventually cancelled altogether due to severe weather and safety concerns. Between extremely low temperatures and icy roads, outdoor running became less about discipline and more about risk — and that’s not a tradeoff I’m willing to make.

So instead, I’ve found myself back on the treadmill at my local gym.


The Treadmill Reality

I’ll be honest: I’m not a big fan of treadmill running.

I love the rhythm of running outdoors — fresh air, changing scenery, the way your body naturally adjusts to the terrain. The treadmill feels repetitive, controlled, and mentally harder for me, even when the miles are shorter.

But right now, it’s the safest option.

And this season is teaching me that safe training is smart training, even when it’s not my favorite.


Learning to Adjust the Plan

With races being postponed or cancelled, I’ve had to step back and look at my race calendar more realistically. Instead of forcing a rigid plan, I’m giving myself permission to adjust.

My goals for this year include:

  • 2 half marathons (Marine Corps Historic Half-Marathon) and Blue & Grey Half Marathon
  • 1 full marathon (Richmond Marathon-Maybe)
  • Army 10-Miler
  • 1 ten-kilometer race– Local race
  • A 5-mile race– 4th of July
  • Possibly 6 (5K) races– Father’s Legacy Race, St. Patty’s Day Race, Fight Against Autism, Go for Bo, and 2 more TBD races.

Altogether, I’m aiming for around 12 races this calendar year — but with flexibility built in.

Because life is unpredictable. Weather changes. Schedules shift. Bodies need rest. And none of that means failure.


Training With Flexibility (And Grace)

This season has reminded me that growth isn’t always about pushing harder — sometimes it’s about adjusting smarter.

Running on the treadmill isn’t ideal for me, but it keeps me moving. Rearranging my race schedule doesn’t mean I’ve lost momentum — it means I’m protecting my health and longevity as a runner.

I’m learning to:

  • listen to my body
  • prioritize safety over stubbornness
  • adapt my goals instead of abandoning them
  • and stay committed without being rigid

That balance matters — not just in running, but in life.


Moving Forward

I still love running. I still love the goals. I still love the feeling of progress.

But I’m also learning to leave space for reality.

This year isn’t about perfection — it’s about consistency, flexibility, and showing up in ways that make sense for the season I’m in. Whether that means icy sidewalks, cancelled races, or treadmill miles, I’m choosing to keep going — thoughtfully.

One run at a time.

Where I get my Running Supplies

Health & Fitness · Health & Fitness

62 Miles for a Cause: My January Movement Challenge with the American Cancer Society

January often comes with pressure to overhaul everything at once—our bodies, our habits, our lives.
This year, I’m choosing something more intentional.

For the month of January, I’m completing a 62-mile movement challenge in support of the American Cancer Society. My goal is to raise $500 to help fund cancer research, patient support, and prevention efforts. If you’d like to support the cause, you can donate here: https://gofund.me/7926ab0e7

This challenge isn’t about speed or perfection. It’s about purpose.

Why 62 Miles Matters to Me

Sixty-two miles, spread across a month, is both a physical and emotional commitment. Some days those miles will be run. Other days they’ll be walked. What matters is showing up consistently and honoring what my body can do on any given day.

Cancer has touched too many lives to feel distant or theoretical. Supporting the American Cancer Society feels like a way to turn movement into meaning—one mile at a time.

How I’m Approaching This Challenge

I’m keeping this challenge sustainable and compassionate. That means:

  • Breaking the miles up across the month
  • Mixing running, walking, and strength training
  • Listening closely to my body and resting when needed
  • Letting progress be measured in effort, not pace

Some days will feel strong.
Some days will feel slow.
Both still count toward the 62 miles.

Movement as Gratitude, Not Punishment

For a long time, exercise felt tied to guilt or pressure. This challenge has helped me shift that mindset.

Each mile is an act of gratitude.
Each step is a reminder that movement can be a privilege.
Each workout supports something bigger than me.

That perspective changes everything.

Why the $500 Goal Matters

The $500 fundraising goal isn’t just a number. It represents:

  • Research that saves lives
  • Support for individuals and families navigating cancer
  • Education and prevention efforts that create long-term impact

Every donation—no matter the size—helps push that work forward.
If you’d like to support my challenge and help me reach my $500 goal, you can donate here: https://gofund.me/7926ab0e7

An Invitation

If you’re moving your body this month, you’re already doing something powerful. If you’re looking for a way to pair movement with purpose, I invite you to support this challenge. Alternatively, find one that aligns with your own “why.”

Your movement doesn’t have to look like mine to matter.

Closing

January doesn’t have to be about becoming someone new.
Sometimes, it’s about showing up as you are and choosing intention over pressure.

This month, I’m moving 62 miles with purpose—for awareness, for hope, and for the people who need it most.