Comebacks are made of a bunch of little things done right.

I have to keep reminding myself of that. It’s the two minutes I set aside each day to do my ankle strengthening exercises. It’s the 30 minutes I spend each night dipping my ankle in and out of icy and hot water. It’s all of the things I know I can’t do that I don’t do.

I want to run. Desperately. I’m 11 weeks out from a half marathon, a half marathon I signed up for thinking I would come home with a PR. Now I’m questioning if I will even make it to the start line.

But all of the small things add up. I can’t run right now, but I can spend all of the time I would have spent running getting my strength back and helping the healing process. I can’t squat or snatch or clean right now, but that doesn’t mean I can’t get stronger or that I can’t lift.

The last time I was injured I was so focused on all of the things I couldn’t do that I was blindsided by all of the new things I could do. Just like last time, I am focusing on different muscles than I normally do and I am working hard to build a solid, healthy foundation so when my ankle is ready, the rest of my body will be prepared to run again too.

Frustration is still around every corner. I still cry about not being able to do what I want. I worry about how long this injury is taking to heal and about what lasting effects I might have in the future. But each thing I do right gives me a little more hope.

The worst is over. Now it’s just about staying focused and working on the little things.

Most of us claim we want to slow down. We want to take our time. We want to enjoy our coffee in the morning and not chug it like we’re doing keg stands.

And yet we never do it. We walk even faster to get to the office a few minutes sooner. We rush through conversations with our friends and family so we can move on to the next thing. We microwave frozen meals so we can sit in front of the TV while we scroll Instagram.

I’m just as guilty as the rest. I walk like I’m training for the speed walking olympic team. Always. I get annoyed when slow people drive in front of me. I’m addicted to crossing things off my to-do list – the faster the better.

Taking it slow is worth it.

When I was traveling it seemed like time stretched on forever. Only part of that was from the weird hours I was keeping thanks to the jet lag. I savored each moment. I strolled. I took the time to look around and absorb what I was seeing. My to do list for each day went something like this: eat a delicious breakfast, sit and sip on a cafe con leche, walk around for a bit, eat a delicious lunch, sit and sip on some sangria, walk around and see some things, eat again, sit and read or talk or do whatever else seems relaxing, go to bed.

Nothing was rushed. Nothing needed to be done. I was there for the experience, and I never stressed about making it to one place or another by a certain time (if anything, it was a struggle to make it to dinner late enough).

I’m still working on not rushing in my every day life. There is a time and a place for it, don’t get me wrong. There are occasions at work where time is of the essence – no diddle–daddling allowed. But that doesn’t mean every moment needs to be rushed – the whole day lost in a haze of running. I don’t have to speed through my workout or hurry through dinner.

My weekends are typically one long race toward finishing an unrealistic to-do list. Do I need to wash the baseboards, go to five different places, do all of the laundry, and finish up everything I didn’t get to that week? Definitely not.

Instead, I have been trying to not think of what I’m doing next. If I’m reading, that’s all I’m thinking about. I don’t constantly line up activities or tasks. I take the time to sit and just be. This weekend I moseyed about the farmer’s market, savored every sip of a mocha (with whipped cream!), and sat in a coffee shop to write and just be.

And time stretched on. The day wasn’t a blur or an exercise of endurance.

I enjoyed it. I relaxed.

The weekends are getting easier. I still struggle to sit back and not stress over traffic. Work isn’t exactly a leisurely experience. Dinners still aren’t slowed down as much as they probably should be. Too many things are likely added to my to-do list every day.

But it’s a start.

I’d like to think I’m handling this injury better than my last.

Which is funny given my propensity to lose my mind the minute anyone suggests I can’t run, jump, or do anything fun.

It’s almost easier that this injury has been visually pronounced (my bruise turned a nice shade of green just in time for Halloween. It didn’t hurt that I walked like Frankenstein’s monster) and the pain is violent and consuming.

There’s no ignoring this one.

The good: I didn’t break any bones. The bad: I’m out for 4-6 weeks. The ugly: … well my ankle.

After x-rays and WAY too many doctors painfully poking and prodding my already grotesque, swollen lump of an ankle (MUST you push so hard? I mean really!), I had “sprained ankle” stamped across my chart and I was sent on my merry way.

I finally started PT, which means I now spend 30 minutes or so a day doing weird exercises that seem like a test of patience more than a way of getting back to the things I love. Like going down stairs without pain.

This time there’s no groveling. There’s no trying to run or pushing through nagging pain. I’ve never been so in touch with my painful reality. I’m out for the count.

It doesn’t matter that I was in great shape. It doesn’t matter I had just pulled off a massive 7-minute PR on a difficult course. It doesn’t matter that I have a half in February. It doesn’t matter that I love to run in the rain and it happens to be raining.

On Wed. 10/28 at exactly 12:30ish p.m. I massively sprained my ankle.

Those are the facts. That’s my reality.

I’m out for now, but you damn well better believe I am going to do all of the weird exercises and I am going to fight back and return to running stronger and hungrier than ever before.

Now, can you please pass the ice cream?

Life-changing. Inspiring.

It took me a while to get on the Big Magic wagon, and by the time I did I had been flooded with everyone else’s opinions on it. And despite my best efforts, my expectations might have been set a bit high.

Big Magic didn’t change my life forever. I’m not quitting my job tomorrow to pursue creative writing or to make art. 

What it did do is make me feel better about not quite knowing what I want out of my life. It made me realize that following an inkling of curiosity is good enough, I don’t need a deep burning passion that slights everything on fire except for The One thing I should be doing with my life.

And it did inspire me. It reminded me that it’s good to write, even if it’s total shit and no one ever reads it (and I wish I never read it). Getting the words out is progress. Researching weird things is progress. Figuring out what I want to do by realizing what I don’t want to be doing in any moment is progress.

Big Magic reminded me that often people who do have the creative jobs I’ve considered, like a magazine editor or writer, also feel like their work is dictated by someone else. They also struggle to find that creative spark, the energy that seems to come from within and outside of us at the same time. They too have to find an outlet, find something that is for them. Somewhere to let that inner voice free.

So for now I’m going to be content with not knowing. I’m going to let myself explore my own writing without worrying about how to turn it into a career or even something that could pay a single bill. Elizabeth Gilbert made a huge point that expecting your creative endeavor to support you financially is unfair, and it often suffocates your creativity and the joy you experience when making something.

I’d rather write because not writing is painful. I would rather “waste time” writing things that no one will ever see than hunt for freelance project after freelance project that I don’t love. I’d rather keep my day job (for now) while I explore my other possibilities.

Despite its allure (there is something to be said about the encouragement of large groups) I am not participating in NaNoWriMo this year. Instead I decided to do a November writing challenge that is a little more feasible and approachable.

I am writing for 30 minutes every day this month.

Whether it’s a random list of things on my mind, a blog post, journaling, a short story, a poem, all of the words I know in other languages, it doesn’t really matter. I am going to sit down for 30 minutes every day and write uninterrupted. I won’t cruise the internet. I won’t give up after five minutes… or forget to do it all together.

Why did I choose 30 minutes? Because 15 didn’t seem like enough and an hour isn’t reasonable for my life right now.

While I’m hoping that I get some good writing and enjoyment out of the challenge, my real motivation is creating a habit of writing. I read Big Magic this weekend, and it made me realize that I spend a lot of time writing for other people. I write in their voices, about their topics, in their style. I would like to yet again carve out time where I explore the things that interest me, and write because it’s something I love.

Some days it’s easy. Others I feel like I don’t have enough words to fill 30 minutes (going off of four days of data, it’s about 50/50 so far). I’m hoping by the end it will be easier to find what I’m trying to say.

So here’s to day four! Still going strong!

Want to join me? Here’s some great motivation from Leo Babauta’s blog, Zen Habits on why you should write every day.

Last night I lay awake thinking about all of the decisions I had to make. Should I hire a running coach? Do I want to jump into another big trip? What do I really want in a gym? Should I return that shirt? What am I going to wear the rest of the week?

It dawned on me that I was starting to stress myself out. Over mostly trivial things that have been weighing on my mind for days or weeks.

And I’m not the only one. A recent article in The Guardian decried the amount of choice we face daily. From 28 different ketchups on the grocery store shelf to retirement plans, there are too many options. We frequently end up paralyzed, and when we do make a decision, we are much less satisfied with it than if we had hardly any choice at all according to the article.

I’m a fan of “keeping my options open” and “seeing what’s out there,” but at some point there are too many things out there.

I wonder how much time we spend in the grocery store staring at ketchup trying to just choose one. Or which gas station to go to. What to have for lunch. What to read next. Or what we really want.

Decision fatigue is real. From a self-designed uniform to President Obama not choosing what he wears or eats, we are willing to go to extremes to try to avoid it. I constantly joke at work that I suffer from decision fatigue in the afternoons, but it’s painfully true.

So how am I going to fix it? Stop overthinking things. Sometimes a decision is better than no decision. I am also going to make a conscious effort to not re-assess my decisions. Once it’s made, it’s done. Mornings when no one else is in the office is when I do my best thinking and decision making. I’m fresh and ready to go, which means I need to take advantage of this time to make big decisions, not to decide what I want to eat or what I should read next. I have also been cutting the clutter out of my life so I’m not sorting through clothes that don’t fit when I’m trying to decide what to wear. Or food I don’t like or isn’t good for me.

Every choice I can cut out is one less thing to stress about and one more decision I have brain power for later.

Hands down one of my favorite things about vacation is the time I have to read! Exploring and seeing new things were definitely a priority for most of my trip, but I was beyond excited to load up my Kindle (a luxury for me, since I usually borrow books from the library) and tear through books. I was gone for 15 days, so naturally I brought four books (five would have been better).

The Life-Changing Magic of Tidying Up by Marie Kondo: Reading this on the plane from San Francisco to Madrid was equal parts inspiration and frustration. I had packed a small backpack of things that brought me joy for the trip, which meant I could clearly follow these rules. I also couldn’t wait to try my hand at yet another attempt to reduce the amount of things I own. Which leads us to frustration. Turns out being on a plane without access to my closet when I was ready to organize is not a good idea. The whole trip I had pent up organization motivation that was mostly obliterated by jet-lag when I got home. Overall, not a life-changer for me and I think Marie and I likely disagree on quite a few things, but I’m glad I read it and it will factor in to how I think about my possessions.

The Martian by Andy Weir: I devoured this book. By far the best book I read on the trip. Bonus, it will always remind me of taking the train from Barcelona to Valencia. Read it if you haven’t already!

Creativity, Inc.: Overcoming the Unseen Forces That Stand in the Way of True Inspiration by Ed Catmull: This was one of those cases where expectations completely alter your experience. I went into this book expecting inspiration for fostering personal creativity. Instead I discovered it was about leading a team or a company in a creative pursuit. Don’t get me wrong, it was fascinating and I loved the stories about the challenges Pixar has faced, but I was slightly disappointed that it wasn’t 100 percent applicable to me right now (turns out I don’t manage an incredible animation studio… or… well anyone). It did however change the way I thought about how I liked to be managed and what I look for in a company.

The Girl in the Spider’s Web by David Lagercrantz: I got on the plane for my eight hour flight from Madrid to Toronto about a fifth of the way through the book. When I landed in Toronto it was over and I couldn’t stop thinking about it. It doesn’t matter that Stieg Larsson didn’t write this book – the characters felt the same and the plot took off like Larsson was in charge. A real toss up if you should read this or The Martian first.

We tried to fit as much into our two weeks in Spain as possible. We flew in (and out) of Madrid, and traveled to four cities (loosely termed here) throughout our stay. We had a total of 15 days which we divided up into three nights in Madrid, three nights in Barcelona, two nights in Valencia, five nights in Menorca, and our final night back in Madrid. We purposefully planned it this way so we could sight-see as much as possible in the first half of our trip, and finish up with time lounging on the island.

Madrid

We flew from San Francisco to Toronto then ran to our flight from Toronto to Madrid. I did not know that it would be so much faster flying to Spain than coming home (more than two hours faster), so I was pleasantly surprised on the way there (and sad on the way home).

Goodbye San Francisco!

We stayed at Airbnbs for most of our trip, and the studio we stayed at in Madrid was by far our favorite. We were close to almost everything, and we spent our first full day (after horrific, all sorts of messed up attempts of sleep) on a self-guided walking tour. It was incredible! We saw something like four plazas, two incredible, historic churches, walked through a famous market, ate churros con chocolate for lunch (you heard me), and even toured a palace. 

The Royal Palace of Madrid was one of my favorite parts of the city. We toured the inside (which they don’t really let you take pictures of, so you will just have to trust me it was fascinating), and despite the jet-lag, I had a blast. It was mind blowing for me (stupid American tourist here) that people had lived (and definitely died) in this palace. Fancy, important events are still held there (which for the life of me I cannot stop calling the “castle” because why would royalty live anywhere other than a castle? It’s absurd.), and a great deal of it is still used.

The city was beautiful, although I wasn’t prepared for the general grime. Despite knowing what San Francisco looks liked, I didn’t expect the large amounts of graffiti and general dirtiness that we encountered throughout the cities. 

Some other highlights of Madrid were a Flamenco show (with tasty sangria included!) and a gorgeous run through the Parque del Retiro (more on that soon).

Barcelona

We took a speed train from Madrid to Barcelona, which took about three hours and was worth every penny. I started announcing that I loved Barcelona as soon as we stepped out of the Metro station into the warm, humid air to views of a stunning statue of Christopher Columbus. The Airbnb we stayed at was about a five minute walk from La Rambla and the harbor.

The view from our apartment

The only bummer was that we accidentally booked our stay in Barcelona during a huge festival, so everything was incredibly packed. Although it also meant that we got to see a bunch of things we wouldn’t have otherwise. It did start to clear out throughout our stay, but the beginning was overwhelming with entire streets and plazas closed off for dancing, parades of giant dolls, music, human pyramids, and other festivities.

Click to explore the full panorama.

One of the highlights was the Park Güell, an enormously popular work of Gaudí. We spent an entire morning exploring the grounds and the crazy architecture.

Walking the streets around where we stayed was a blast, but we also had a great time exploring the rest of the city via the metro. Although our trip to Montserrat might have been my hands down favorite of this portion of the trip (a full post on that soon). 

Barcelona, I miss your delicious vegetarian food, killer mojitos, and humid air.

Valencia

To be totally honest, we went to Valencia because I had seen a photo of the Oceanogràfic aquarium and I decided I had to see it. We ended up having a blast in Valencia, even though the aquarium didn’t meet my expectations (The Monterey Bay Aquarium has set my standards quite high). My favorite thing in the city ended up being the incredible Jardí del Túria, which I explored on a run (full post on that soon).

Menorca

The island was just what we were looking for. After more than a week of intense sight-seeing and traveling, we were ready to sit back and relax (preferably on a warm beach). The beaches were stunning, the people were kind, and we loved making ourselves dinner every night in our Airbnb.

The view from our house.

Sunset from our roof.

There were bronze age ruins right outside (okay, like half a kilometer) where we stayed, so we took a short little hike/stroll out to see them.

The weather wasn’t quite as warm and I had hoped, but we were still able to swim in the ocean one day (huge highlight for me. I froze, but I loved it!). I wore my long sleeve, UPF rash guard in the water and hid in the shade the entire time we were at the beach – meanwhile women sunbathed topless and the men traipse around in itsy bitsy bathing suits.

From reading on the beach to exploring new places to making a fool of myself in Spanish, the trip was a blast. I can’t wait to discover where I will go next.