The past 14 months have been full of personal records and setbacks. Injuries have knocked me down more than I would like to count. I spent months not able to do the things I love to the fullest. I had to sit on the sidelines and watch as my friends, family, and coworkers chased after amazing goals.

I’m tried of watching everyone else do the things I want to be doing. I can’t change the fact that I got tendonitis almost a year ago. I can’t rewind the past 14 months and miraculously heal my ankles forever.

But I can let it all go.

I can smile when someone else does something amazing and revel in it with them. I can appreciate how much hard work it took and how amazing the accomplishment is.

It’s painful to accept that it’s not your time. It’s not my time to be running 20 miles a week or repping out double unders like nobody’s business. It’s not my time to train for a new distance or get faster than ever. It’s not my time to do a lot of things, and I need to let them all go.

My recent smack to the head has shown me just how important it is to listen to my body and take everything it gives me with gratitude. Yes, there are so many things that I want to be doing that I just can’t. But there are also so many things that I can do that I am incredibly thankful for.

Instead of thinking about the months I couldn’t run, the nagging pain in my ankles, and what often feels like a lack of progress, when I really look back on 2014, it was a damn good year.

I PRed my half marathon time… twice.

I improved my olympic lifts and hit massive weight goals.

I did things that I thought were impossible (hello bar muscle-ups).

I explored past loves.

I started a new job and made new friends.

I made big life changes and took on challenges in stride.

2014 is over. I’m letting go of the past year of hurt, of disappointment, of never being satisfied. This year I’m focusing on all of the amazing things I am going to do (and have done).

I hate forced rest days. They drive me crazy. All I think about the entire time is the activity I had scheduled for the day and how great I would feel if I could just go along as planned.

But life doesn’t work that way.

Last week I got a mild concussion playing Ultimate Frisbee with my coworkers, and in the blink of an eye (or rather a painful smash of heads) I was sentenced to the couch for an unknown amount of time.

I was finally feeling like I was making progress. I was about to add in a third run into my week and my ankles were feeling pretty good. My PT was going well, and I had recovered from a PTT flair up within a few days (great news for someone who is struggling with fairly chronic tendonitis at this point). I was smashing PRs on my lifts and in general really enjoying my training.

While being forced to rest hasn’t made me the happiest of all people, it’s really the unknown that’s bothering me the most. Concussions are tricky to pin down and even harder to figure out when you are ready to come back. I was told to not exercise until the headaches are gone, and even then I can only move forward from brisk walking to something more fun if my head doesn’t protest. So far three days later and I haven’t made it past brisk walking.

My head looks fine. I feel energetic. And yet something small in my head is protesting rather loudly. For once I can’t just push through the discomfort and live my life the way I want. This time I have to actually listen. Take off the running shoes and put my feet up. I might just be here for a while.

It’s safe to say that 2014 didn’t go anything like I expected to. And I truly am thankful for that.

I spent three months seriously injured and another six months or so trying to hack my way through it. Tendonitis is a constant game of ‘can I, can’t I,’ and I like to think that every flare-up is just more information on what I should do differently in the future. Sometimes you just have to test your boundaries, right?

Being injured on and off for so long has been heart breaking and spirit crushing, but a lot of great things have come of it. I dug into my weaknesses, discovered what I need to change about the way I run and train, and ignited new passions. I never would have set aside so much time to explore olympic lifting or hit pie in the sky goals like a bar muscle up. I learned that even while injured my body is capable of amazing things – even if they aren’t the specific things I had imagined. On top of all of that I had two great races that I feel good about and had a blast running.

I didn’t get the 400 miles I had wanted, but I unintentionally came absurdly close. Once I got injured I stopped really paying attention to my total miles. It was too depressing to not see the numbers move at all for months at a time. I finished the year with 395.63, and I honestly don’t regret not tallying that sooner so I could squeeze in that last 4.37 miles (but if I do it today it still counts right?!?).

When I was staring down a new year at the end of last December, no part of me saw myself spending months injured or leaving the magazine industry. While I haven’t totally left (yet another thing I’m thankful for, freelancing), I work full time at a startup. My life is so different, but I know I’m where I’m supposed to be right now. I’m surrounded by amazing people who are passionate about what they do, and I’m seriously learning something new every day.

I’ve learned a lot about myself this year and challenged some of the things I used to think were inherently true, and I want to keep that going in 2015.

Instead of pledging a certain amount of miles or goal weights for my lifts (I would be lying if I didn’t have some figures in mind), I’m making this year about taking risks and following my gut. I’m going to seek out more adventures and still let myself get lost in a book for full weekends.

I’m starting 2015 with the mindset that I’m building a foundation for 2016. This is the year I slowly build my milage, attack my weaknesses, and prepare my body for whatever adventure I decided to embark on. It’s also the year I push my own boundaries outside of fitness and let myself just live.

I started doing CrossFit because I wanted to be able to throw around a barbell like the people I saw doing the WODs at my gym. There was something about it that I just couldn’t tear myself away from.

Confession:

The most terrifying part of starting CrossFit was learning the olympic lifts.

But they’re also what brought me back each time.

It took me a full year for the movements to feel natural, and by then I couldn’t get enough. There isn’t a feeling in the world like tossing your body weight over your head like it’s no big deal. Or listening to the sound of a heavy barbell hitting the ground after a solid lift. Or clawing your way out of a heavy clean. Or not being able to walk the day after heavy squats.

It's so nice to be back with the barbell crew @inrc_ @zeroatlas @sarammarston

A photo posted by Mandy Ferreira (@treading_lightly) on Jan 1, 2015 at 9:00pm PST

I decided it was time to really get into the grit of lifting. I hadn’t done any particular strength programs or followed any cycles on my own in the past, but I signed up for the barbell club at my gym. For a month I worked on technique and improved every single lift we worked on. By the end of the month the PRs were rolling in.

I was addicted.

I'm sad Barbell Club is over, but I'm super happy to finally be past where I was pre-injury. Thanks @inrc_ and @zeroatlas for a great month! #crossfit #crossfitgirls #likeagirl #BadDecisions #StopStealingMyWheights

A photo posted by Mandy Ferreira (@treading_lightly) on Nov 11, 2014 at 8:25am PST

I got my own lifting shoes. I researched strength progressions to do on my own outside of lifting with the group. I religiously listened to Barbell Shrugged and loaded my Instagram with amazing lifters.

Even better – I went back to CrossFit stronger and way more confident with my lifts. Weights that had felt really heavy seemed to fly off the floor a little easier.

These just might be my favorite shoes – not because they look great with every outfit (we all know they do), but because of how I feel in them. Powerful. Badass. In control. Happy. Unstoppable.

There’s something about running in the rain that makes me incredibly happy. It’s a weird combination of letting your inner child jump in puddles and being a total badass for having a complete disregard for the weather.

I’ve always loved the rain. As much as I love to sit inside with a cup of tea and watch it fall outside, there’s nothing like putting on my running shoes, ditching the music and the watch, and going out to play.

While people panicked like the armageddon was approaching with this recent storm, I had a blast.

Here’s my official PSA: Californians, it’s just a little water. You’ll be okay.

I have a glaring track record with injuries. They all start the same way. I feel amazing. Unstoppable! And then I push too hard and I am completely stopped by an intense, slow-healing form of tendonitis. I’ve done it again and again, and yet I clearly haven’t learned.

The week after the Nike Women’s Half I felt great. My legs felt strong and I was flying high on a great race. I wanted to run further, faster, more often. I started planning how I would up my mileage this winter and all of the great speed workouts I would do. I was so ready to go.

Except that I wasn’t. I forgot the most important part of training – rest. I pushed too hard, too soon after my race and I aggravated the injury I spent four months battling this year already.

Now every step is a reminder of how big of an idiot I am. Instead of doing all of the amazing running I had imagined in my mind, I’m back to doing what feels like endless PT exercises and wanting to cry every time I see someone else running (how dare they run when I have to rest. I want to run!).

Every step is a very real, painful reminder that I need to rest and take care of myself. I don’t have time for denial or trying to push through. (I wish I would have realized that before I played Ultimate Frisbee with my coworkers for an hour. Ouch.) I am going to do all of my exercises. I will rest and treat my ankles and feet with care. I will do contrast baths and hours of mobility work to break up all of the tight, irritated tissue in my calves, ankles, and feet.

But most importantly, I will stop doing this to myself. I will learn to hold back when I want to push 12 times as hard. I will get my legs strong and ready for all of the running I am desperately dreaming about. I will accept where I’m at when I finally get to run again, and I will ease back into everything when my body is ready.

My coworker and I have a bet. Whoever breaks and eats Halloween candy first owes the other person coffee (we know, we know, one vice for another).

The whole thing started a few weeks ago when the candy bowl appeared in the hallway at work. Out of nowhere. Just BAM, sugar-filled temptation. We turned avoiding the bowl into a competition out of mutual understanding of how enticing the candy could be (and the desire to win. always.).

While we have joked around (someone put candy on my desk to get me to crack first), it’s been easy this year. When I’ve tried to avoid Halloween candy in the past, it’s been a constant struggle for me. This time around I don’t have any candy lurking around my house, and I know I can make it through the whole month – I did it last year. Every day I don’t eat a piece I get more power to say no and the candy seems less enticing.

I’ve spent the past two years or so consciously limiting my sugar intake. I read Year of No Sugar and watched Fed Up. I’m acutely aware of what sugar does to the body and how it messes with the brain. And most powerfully, I know how I feel after I overload on sugar.

I won’t give in this year. Not tonight. Not for the rest of 2014.

This is a candy free zone.

I spent the entire year thinking about running the Nike Women’s SF Half again after running it for my first half last year. I knew it would be my goal race for 2014. When I couldn’t run while I was injured I flip flopped between stressing over not being able to run at all and imagining myself finishing it. I spent months focusing on this one race and making it across the finish line.

After getting extremely dehydrated at my last half in August (and being fairly convinced I was dying), I was nervous I would make a complete mess of this race too. I was fairly conservative with my pacing on the way out and I approached every hill carefully to make sure I didn’t burn myself out by trying to charge up them.

Mentally it’s easier for me to not know when a hill is coming or how long it will last.I honestly didn’t spend too much time looking at the course map before the race. I didn’t realize that this year’s new course had a lot of hills. On Friday one of my coworkers told me he was going to be cheering with November Project SF at the brutal hill at mile 10. (Wait, what hill!?! How long?!?) Throughout the race (and even in the corral before it started) I heard people whining about how hard the hill at mile 10 was going to be, but I couldn’t wait. I knew there would be a huge crew, and I was 100 percent confident that their cheers and my sheer determination would get me up the hill. I actually motivated myself during the race by thinking about how great seeing them all would be.

When I finally made up most what I’m now calling The Hill From Hell, I gave Josh the sweatiest, most disgusting hug, and instead of telling me I was gross, he ran to the top with me. By the time he left me at the top of the hill (with another very moist hug, sorry Josh!), I was feeling recharged and ready to put the last three miles behind me. I let gravity do the hard work and did my best to fly downhill without fighting it.

At this point I was pretty sure I was going to finish feeling better than last time. I still felt strong, my legs were still working, and I didn’t feel like I was going to vomit or collapse at any moment. The course started to be filled with more people cheering, and I tried to focus on all their energy instead of how tired my legs were. (Big thank you to everyone who came out and cheered, especially the people who called me out by name and gave me some much needed energy on the last mile.)

I don’t think I have ever felt so good crossing the finish line. I had an actual finishing kick that made me feel like I was flying (even though I’m pretty sure I looked like I wasn’t even moving to everyone else). I felt strong and proud of how I had raced. I was exhausted, but not sick (a huge accomplishment if you ask me).

Throughout most the race I had a huge smile on my face. I laughed multiple times per mile, and I never once regretted being out there. The spectators were amazing, the volunteers were irreplaceable, and the other runners were pure motivation for me. I love how positive the entire race is. It’s an amazing feeling to be running with so many other women who are out there to challenge themselves and have fun. I’m happy with how I ran SF.