It was 12 degrees that Saturday morning when I went out for a morning run while visiting my parents - stepping outside only to realize I forgot ear warmers. I asked my mom if I could borrow hers.
As we opened to closet door my eye caught a carabineer with a vibrant wave-like mountain climbing harness peaking off the shelf. I curiously asked my mom about it.
"That was your childhood leash"
Much of my life, she explained, the leash was necessary for my safety. To keep me from running off course, out of control, to harness my energy.
Picking up my cadence down our gravel, icy road -- quickly dropping the ear warmers as my body temp rose -- just as my dad took this photo of me as I passed him driving back from the trash site. (how sweet that was to see him)
I reflected on how good it feels to be free. How good it feels to run wild.
Untethered.
And so. I ran fast,
and I ran far.
On the road, which I don't do much these days.
But it reminded me why I run.
I winded through the once quiet gravel country roads I drove at 4:30a on the way to swim practice each morning for my childhood. The roads now inundated with speeding DC-escapists speeding past me.
I ran past the farmhouse coffee shop I once learned the art of pour overs and soulful conversations as I was a barista during the winter of 2015 while recovering my double hip surgery and needed something to do during break when my team was at FL training trip.
I ran past the neighborhood of the sweet kids I taught to swim.
Breezing past the homes where I piloted my business ideas out of college - getting kids to pack their own lunches and take ownership of their health, and interest in cooking.
I reflected on most of life how I channeled the leashed energy of little Amanda into activities. Many activities.
That morning, I was simply trying to keep balanced on icy roads.
To stay moving forward and not slip out from under me.
Afterall, it's only through motion, being intentional with each footing, and finding your breath that you do so. I discovered - on the road that morning - most my life I've just been trying to do the same.
My thoughts picking up with my pace as the road flattened out across a horizon of white fields of grazing horses.
For as long as I can remember it has felt like I was juggling many balls.
Right now: A ball for managing my role in innovation/marketing/sustainability at Spira, the community managing ball, the author ball, the coaching ball, the athlete ball, the consultant ball, the just being-a-decent-and-present human-being ball. And each ball is never a tenuous toss in the air but a full-throttle throw. I've only known full throttle.
Those white blanket fields of blinding, reflective snow that required I squint most of the run, reminded me that I'm not 10 different balls but rather one jumbo connected, momentous, flowing energetic snowball.
Each step forward, growing as I pick up speed downhill. Gathering pieces of myself. Nothing can stop the snow balling momentum.
It's how I've explained the start of this year feeling inside my body.
Rather than juggling 10 balls in the air, it's felt like one concerted, connected, aligned action - where all my effort is going into moving the life-snowball forward as one, meaningful mission. Where ALL I am shows up as the same person to each - no separate snowballs, no different hats, no different ways - just Amanda. And that I am seen the same across them. That how I am appreciated as a consultant is no different than as an athlete.
My capacity isn't stolen by the varying activities, it only provides a different form of energy that mutually supports the way I arrive with a refreshed presence to each.
It's why I love to run just as much as I do to bike and to swim and to lift and to hike and do yoga. Oh the draw of being a multisport athlete - specializing in not specializing. Each discipline's experience and focus enhanced by the shift toward the other. I'm a life triathlete too.
They all mutually support each other.
That's the thing about whole-self nourishment. When I get into the kitchen I'm fueled by each meditative texture of an ingredient, the experimentation and linking of combinations with the flavors exposed to my tongue as much as the company of others and the sustenance from each bite.
The conversation had with a farmer reminds me of our basic needs and connects me to mentoring and how this same mindset in the pool is no different than at the office and I'm reminded how be a better leader at Spira and ways to move the needle on company direction, and then I think about the community I hope to elevate and the writer I want to be and all the threads of my metaphoric mindsets across each discipline.
It all plays this beautiful dance where one ingredient takes center stage while the other marinates in the background. The rice quietly simmers while I focus on the stirring the vegetables. The dish cooks in the oven while the sauce is being prepped. The simultaneous activities can be done in concert.
Far too long I believed it would be easier to specialize. So did many others.
“You need to be more focused”
How satisfying it would be when someone asks me what I do to just say "I'm a ___."
I recently learned of the term “mulitpotentialate”. Popularized by Emilie Wapnick in her 2015 TED talk, Why Some of Us Don’t have One True Calling. She poses the question:
“"where did we learn the to assign the meaning of wrong or abnormal to doing many things"“
For as long as I can remember, my ability to focus on many things with a heightened level of attention had been equated to and blamed on my ADHD, thus discouraged as a form of treatment for my inability to only do one thing. Multipotentialites are driven to find meaning, purpose and passion in a myriad of things, which will always bring diverse perspectives to the table. Because of this - I am never as focused as when I am working on multiple ideas at a once - finding constant idea synthesis, inspiration, patterns and comparisons across dimensions.
The leash never worked.
Running wild. It's a reminder of our limitless. The full spectrum of experiences calling.
And with motion, intentional steps across the ice - we can stay moving forward, aligned, in the direction with boundless energy.
Here is the thing about energy: it is neither created nor destroyed - it is converted. The more connections made, the more energy translates and builds on itself - like a snowball. When you take action toward an aligned direction, it multiplies. For far too long I viewed my creativity and output as finite. Like a battery that drains with each task of the day. I got that one all wrong. When moving in the right direction, it feeds, it builds… not takes.
And it starts with running down the road, trying to keep upright and not to slip on ice. Running free towards the direction(s) you feel called to go.