Fall down seven times. Stand up eight.

I went skiing for the first time this week. Before Monday my winter sports experience consisted of ice skating and sledding in the Midwest. But my best girl moved out to Denver and demanded I come out so she could introduce me to the mountains. I stuffed all the random winter clothing I had in a duffel and flew out to Colorado.

Pictures don’t really do the mountains justice. No lens can truly capture the way the light reflects off the snow. How blue the sky gets when the clouds are blown away. It’s a juxtaposition of untamed wilderness… and hundreds of people trying to tame it with wooden boards buckled to their feet.

I wasn’t sure how it would go – but people I love really love skiing – so I put on my brave face and went with it. We went to the ski shop the day before and I got fitted for some concrete manacles covered in shiny plastic – ski boots, they called them. I think it’s what the mafia uses when they make you swim with the fishes.

We know I don’t do heights – but I was surprisingly okay with the gondola. Going up the side of the cliff – watching the trees float beneath me – hell, even in the chair lift – was completely serene. We shared a ride with a pair holding a power meeting, discussing marketing and branding opportunities for their snow bound start up – presumably before spending the rest of the morning boarding. Pretty good way to do business, if you ask me.

Learning to ski is not for the proud of spirit. You end up looking – and feeling – like a giant doofus. Not only are you hobbling around in those crazy heavy uncomfortable boots, THEN you finally click into the skis and turn into a human baby giraffe. Let’s put it this way – I fell trying to get on the chairlift. 

My instructor doesn’t believe in bunny hills – so we started on the easiest trail level – a short little trail with a very gradual slope. It was me, La, a few other schmucks, and a gaggle of children fearlessly flinging themselves down the mountain.

Nothing about skiing is intuitive. Not a damn thing. Your feet are suddenly 4 feet longer than normal, and you have to shift your body weight around in order to stop. After receiving patient instruction on the finer points of digging in my upper sides, making pizza instead of French fries, and facing perpendicular to the mountain when stopping or getting up after a fall, I tried it out. And fell. And then took five minutes to get up. And confidently pushed forward a few feet. And then fell again. And then got up again. And made a turn, made another turn (with much glee and excitement) then started hurtling down the hill, freaked out, and (you guessed it) fell over. Again. Wash, rinse, repeat. 45 minutes later, I made it to the end of the first trail – and somehow Lauren hadn’t throttled me.

By the second or third time around, I was starting to get the hang of it. When I let go and let my body take over, for the most part, good things started to happen. By the fourth run I was figuring out muscles – playing with small body weight shifts, using the poles for balance. I made it all the way down, and then fell as soon as I got back in line for the lift. Typical.

The voice inside my brain was freaking out. All these people, in their fancy gear, who’ve been skiing since they could walk, are judging you. They think you’re stupid and inept. They’re laughing at you. And then I ‘d say these things out loud and La would balance them out with a laugh and an affirmation of the opposite. You’re never going to see these people again. Who gives a good goddamn?

I hate being bad at things. I guess most people do, but this is why I don’t go bowling. I suck at it, and get grumpy. So after I took a little break (and Lauren went and did some actual skiing), we (she) decided we should try a bigger trail – with a medium level start and an easy finish.

We took a mega super lift up to the top. And I freaked. It was so much steeper than the little trail I had gotten comfortable with! It was more narrow, there were way more people. But there was only one way back – down. So, slowly, slooooowly, with much cursing, screeching, and general freaking out – we made our way down. There’s not a ton of snow in December, so most of the people out that Monday were locals and ski patrols training for the season. This meant after every fall, we were approached by 2-4 overly zealous patrol people asking if I was okay. Things that get old quick….

But when I was getting it, it felt a little like flying. I marveled at the ease and efficiency of swishing those skis (left one Gordon, right one Rightfoot. Yes, I was talking to my skis.) around. It was worth the fear and the humiliation.

By the end of the day, I nearly understood why people pay a ton of money to strap themselves into uncomfortable equipment to fling themselves down a potentially treacherous snow bank. Almost. Apparently I won’t fully get it for a few more times. It seems like a sneaky ploy to get me to come back.

And now for the analogy…

I feel like I’ve been learning to ski this whole freaking year. I’ve been throwing myself into new situations, feeling awkward and uncomfortable and trying really hard to get it right. At the gym. Just getting around. I thought I would have more friends by now. I thought trying harder would help- and it has. But I'm not there yet. Better than I was, but still gaining speed, freaking out, and landing on my butt.

I need a break. I need to fly a little, to feel the wind on my face. After the ski adventure I counted 13 bruises on my legs. I fell probably over 25 times in the span of 6 hours. But I tasted a little of that freedom, speed, exhilaration, and am willing to get up and try it again.

Maybe I need to switch the trail – and moving to a new neighborhood feels like we did that, in a way. But my hope for 2015 is that these internal bruises heal a little bit. That I get a taste of something exhilarating and exciting – friendship. Community. Flying.

Why I BodyCombat

I didn't choose BodyCombat. It chose me. Rather - I walked into my favorite Zumba class one July evening 3 years ago and found it cancelled. 

But how about I try this other class instead? The person behind the desk asked. I peeked in and saw a tiny woman shouting and throwing punches in front of a crew of several sweaty ladies. It was intriguing, and a little terrifying.

I took a deep breath and timidly found a space in the back of the room. The next 40 minutes were a blur of energy. I hadn't worked this hard since running suicides for JV soccer! What WAS this? Punching? Kicking? I took lots of breaks, dripped water from every pore, and briefly contemplated if I would make it out alive.  Through the haze of high energy music, the instructor's voice rang out: "You can do this! I believe in you! Keep going!" The last song ended with a triumphant punch in the air. I felt simultaneously drained and invincible. I came back the next week. And the week after that.  I couldn't get enough.

BodyCombat is a mixed martial arts cardio fitness class. It combines choreography inspired by karate, boxing, capoiera, kickboxing, Muy Thai, and tae kwan do, with high energy music to burn calories, sculpt muscles, increase stamina and give you a heck of a work out.

 One Combat class will burn anywhere from 500-700 calories. One class will encompass hundreds of kicks and punches, and a core workout equivalent of 1700 crunches. It's nuts. I'm addicted.

My very first solo class!

Last February I was going through some pretty tough personal stuff. Being laid off from my job coupled with a breakup - Combat was one of my only releases- and worth the expense of the gym membership.

 The last bout of air punches to the end of the workout would come and I'd pep myself up: "You are worth it. You're going to get a job. You're going to come out on top. You can do this. It's going to all work out." Or it would be "Screw that interviewer. Screw unemployment. Screw this heartbreak and frustration."

PUNCH PUNCH PUNCH. 

Slowly, I got stronger. Didn't consider passing out during *quite* so many workouts. I learned the songs. Got to know the instructors. Joked about teaching myself someday. 

The joke turned into reality this winter. I braved 20 hours on the Megabus and 16 hours worth of training in Erie, PA. I was the only non-full-time new instructor. It was terrifying. I passed.

Bella Forza's Motto: Strong is our Sexy.

Since moving to Baltimore I've found a great gym with tons of locations (including one a mile away from home!) and amazing instructors. I started teaching on my own this month.

It never gets easier. But I'm consistently getting stronger. The Les Mills programs (oh yeah, there's also weight lifting, yoga, and a plethora of other awesome workouts!) consistently challenge me to go above and beyond what I thought my body was capable of achieving.

I found this great list of what to expect from class here and just had to share - couldn't have said it better myself!

So. What to expect from a BodyCombat class? 

1. Fun and excitement
2. An adrenaline pumped, action-packed class
3. A 4-5 class learning curve on the basic techniques and skills and choreography patterns
4. Some confusion in those first few classes - but just know this will pass once your knowledge base builds - like trying anything new in life!
5. A supportive group of participants who have been exactly where YOU are at some point! And in fact, if it is a NEW RELEASE class, they may actually be nervous about the new moves too. It's ok to laugh through it.
6. To sweat and pant
7. To feel empowered and inspired
8. To get a taste of what it is like to be a fighter (both in mind and spirit)
9. Some aching sore muscles for the couple of days following the class if this type of movement is new for you - that is a good thing because it means your muscles are toning up
10. To become addicted to BODYCOMBAT!

No matter where I am, this workout meets me there. It might seem silly to rhapsodize about 55 minutes of air kicks and punches to EDM and souped up pop music, but I’m not ashamed. I’ve made incredible, lasting friendships and am straight up challenged to grow and be better.

Les Mill’s motto is “one tribe” – thousands of people all over the world participate, but, kinda like the Catholic church – we’re all practicing the same thing, together. There’s strength in unity, and beauty in strength.

Teaching scratches the parts of me that have been itchy for a little bit. It’s part performance (better have your lines memorized!), and part social outreach. I love practicing so much – it’s a little infectious. There’s nothing better than inspiring a group of people into action – to share the joy that I have right along with my team mates, fellow teachers, and class members.

I come back to class again and again - to push myself, for the adrenaline and self confidence, and because it's really fun. You'll never hear me say that about running!

If you're wanting to try it out (and you DEFINITELY should!) click here to find a class near you.

here's a little montage of some of the inspiring instructors I get to work with and learn from at Merritt (with a few cameos from yours truly!) Come join the fight!

Nesting

No, sorry, no babies on the way. But five months in and our little apartment is really starting to feel like home. We did some cleaning on Sunday, and the late afternoon sun coming in through the windows makes the place even more warm and homey. We haven't had many visitors yet - want to take a peek around? 

The apartment is fairly spacious - 1200 sq feet, one bedroom, one bath. We are lucky that the space is so wide - most Baltimore homes are very narrow - anywhere from 11-18 feet wide is the standard. 

But located above the shop means a bit more room - both in the stairwell and in the main living space. Thank goodness!

The living area is divided up with everyone's favorite Expedit shelves. The walls were painted before we arrived, and we kept the red theme going throughout the room with curtains, my reading chair, and other accents. Our office space is on the other side of the bookcase - just enough visual separation, since we both work from home. 

It's been fun playing "yours, mine and ours" with our furniture, artwork, and other knickknacks. We've made great use of trunks and shelving to squeeze every ounce of storage out of the space. It's nice to have empty shelves - room to grow. Look, ma! Everything has a home. 

One empty box - the kitties like to curl up and put themselves away. We got the "K"at Hinge over Memorial Day - Eventually the goal is to rewire and light it up! But for now it looks pretty rad just on its own. 

With the windows open there's always a free show of some sort happening in the public square below. Every day there's something new- we've seen a marriage proposal, playground games, crab fests, musicians and buskers, and plenty of folks just walking around, enjoying the neighborhood. Every evening one or more bars live band music floats through the window. 

The wood ceilings are really unique, and the kitchen skylight brings light deep into the space. It's nice to rely so much on daylight during the summer. 

Art on the wall, bourbon on the bar, Sinatra on the record player. 

The white beadboard accents the red wall, giving it a modern, clean feel. 

We brought as much of Cincinnati as we could with us - and memories of all the people we love. Last time I was in town I picked up this Rookwood Tile for Keith - it's the same tile that is at the stadium; a tribute to our hometown team. 

We took the doors off the kitchen cabinets for a more open feel and easier access. It's nice to be able to easily get what I need as I whirl around the kitchen, creating delicious chaos as I go. The backsplash was already installed (thanks previous renters!), and between the two of us we were able to stock a fairly well equipped kitchen. My most favorite thing right now are the glass storage containers - an heirloom from a family friend who owned a glass factory.

The ceiling of the apartment slopes front to back, and the height in the bedroom is easily 17 or 18 feet. I had to crouch way down just to get this picture! I went back to IKEA not once, not twice, but four separate times to get the white wood Hemnes nightstands - they don't keep many in stock. His and hers lamps bring warmth into the room. Though the front gets rowdy with people on the square, it's amazingly quiet in the back. Most nights I sleep like a baby. 

More Ohio love - my friend Emily made the little pillow for me when I graduated college. Moved from red to orange in the bedroom - I found the comforter (it has LEAVES, not flowers, despite what some people think...) on sale at Target. It's a good compromise- colorful, but not overly feminine. 

This little vignette reminds us why we're here in the first place every time we walk out the door. Keith got a bunch of amazing abstract art from an Art Academy student who worked for him a long time ago, and we've incorporated it as much as we can into the apartment. 

Check out the rest of the pictures below. Hope you can come by for a real visit sometime soon!

Created with flickr slideshow.

Smitten.

Henry demonstrates being upside-down

The last month and a half flipped my world upside down. It's equal parts refreshing and disconcerting. Baltimore is like looking in a distorted mirror at Cincinnati - a concave one (is that the one where things are bigger?)

There's just.. more. More neighborhoods - and more to each neighborhood. I feel paralyzed with indecision, frantically paging through my Yelp bookmarks, each time we decide to go try someplace new. Cincinnati has a finite number of choices, many of them delicious.

Stepping outside my new apartment lands me in the middle of dozens of options within walking distance - never mind where we can go on a bike, bus, or car. What if we choose wrong, and waste money and calories on crappy food? So far there have been more hits than misses, but it's still overwhelming. Privilege problems? Perhaps.

Everyone I talk to echoes many of the same sentiments about Baltimore that I do about Cincinnati. "There's so much to do here! Every weekend there's so many choices! All the neighborhoods are so great! It's so small town - you run into all sorts of people you know!" Nice to know it's not just Cincy.

Making friends as a grown up is hard. Making friends as a grown up in a new city when you work from home is even harder. It's pushed me to become more outgoing - every time I'm out is an opportunity for someone to smile back - for a conversation to begin, and maybe turn into something more. We've met a few people, who are awesome and genuine and fun.

view from our rooftop.

Baltimore is refreshing. There's a lot that needs fixed (as in every city), but so far, it seems... they're doing a lot of things right. Maryland as a whole is focusing on important things to help its citizens. The tax rate is high, but the parks are great, there are bike lanes everywhere, neighborhoods are stabilizing, the've passed progressive policies at the state level (healthcare, gay marriage, raised minimum wage, decriminalized marijuana, universal pre-K to name a few). It's a glimpse into Cincy's future- what it's like to have a truly bustling set of core neighborhoods. (hint: the parking SUCKS.)

it's okay to just. be. still.

It feels wrong to say it... but... it feels good. To be here. to focus on enjoying my little life - planting flowers, making friends, decorating the apartment, living with my guy - instead of tearing myself in two lining the ranks of fighting for tiny victories. The fights back in Cincinnati are important, and are bringing people together - encouraging new people to step up and be heard - giving a sense of purpose and belonging to those in its midst - and it's wonderful to see it continuing on. Without me.

I left my love in good hands. Is it okay that I'm crushing a little on something new?

This season in my life is letting some stillness back in my world. To be okay with a slower pace. To not have all the answers, yet. To renew my sense of wonder, discovery, and even fear. To stretch and grow and see what's inside my overstimulated, Cincinnati-driven little mind. There's a fine line between keeping up with back home and remaining too attached. Like an overprotective mother letting her kid play on the playground by itself, I bite my tongue and work to let go, just a little.

You guys are taking good care of the city. Thanks for that.