Kicking the Door Down

breathe in breathe out move on

I love this. I think I really need this bracelet. Yes, now I’m convinced it would help a great deal.

There is a small possibility it would clash with my dragon tattoo.

I mean, let’s face it, I’ve never found zen by sitting cross legged doing yogic inhalation. For me, “Breathe in, Breathe out, Move on” takes on a different meaning, and I suspect it ain’t what Jimmy’s talkin’ ’bout Willis!

My zen is heart pumping air gasping, all out sprint leaping over the yawning chasm, landing with one toe barely catching the edge, my hand reaching for all its worth at a barely out of grasp tree limb, but gaining foothold, yanking myself up in just enough time to sprint forward, scale a wall of stones and land in fighter’s stance, ready to kick down whatever door might be waiting there.

This is where I’d normally interject something like, “I’m a Ginger–what did you expect?!” But, if anything, my fire is what owns my hair color, not the other way around.


So it’s not going to be a surprise to y’all when my version of healing and starting over has nothing to do with deep meditation, light, and love.

Nope. Quite the opposite.

It’s a weekly kick ass combination of COMBAT workouts, Sprints, Stairs, and Legs From Hell. People accuse me of being addicted to pain, but honestly? I don’t notice any.

Someone also once snarked “Angry Much Red?”, but the energy that channels itself through these workouts isn’t that. Far from it actually.

It’s Freedom, and Elation, which is followed by a measured point of utter stillness, then……ROAR.

Just no other way to describe it and it really does my body good.

Yep–Ginger gotta get back up and get her Fire on so….

Time to fan those flames my friends.


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