When we were talking about OCR Buddy Beyond Borders last year — dreaming big, imagining what it could become, hoping it would spark something in people — I didn’t realize it would end up sparking something in me.
For the last five years, life wasn’t just heavy or loud or demanding — it was too much. I wasn’t “making it through.” I wasn’t coping. I wasn’t holding it together. I was drowning in responsibilities, noise, pressure, and emotional exhaustion that left no space for me. Basic self‑care didn’t just feel hard — it felt selfish. I didn’t feel worthy of care, movement, rest, or anything that required me to choose myself. Every time I thought about doing something for my own wellbeing, it felt like I was stealing time or energy I didn’t deserve. So I stopped showing up for myself entirely. Not because I didn’t want to — but because I genuinely didn’t believe I was allowed to.
So when we talked about this event last year, about movement, about connection, about building something that stretched across borders, I didn’t know those conversations were planting a seed. I didn’t know they’d become the thing that nudged me toward consistency when everything else felt unstable.
🌍 Racing isn’t accessible for me right now — and that’s okay.
People assume that because I manage OCR Buddy social media, I’m out there racing all the time. But the truth is: Racing isn’t an option for me right now.
Not logistically — the closest OCR race is outside Seattle, which means an Amtrak ride from Portland, a bus ride, and probably two or three Uber rides just to get to the start line. Not economically because that costs more than I make in three months.
And for a long time, that made me feel disconnected from the OCR world. Some of you made comments about how I did’t get this anymore because I didnt race. Like I wasn’t “doing enough.” Like I didn’t belong in the community I was helping lead.
🔥 But then came the steps.
One day. Then another. Then another. Until suddenly I had a streak — and I didn’t want to break it.
Now I’m here, looking at 365 days of hitting 10K steps, and 12 Garmin badges in a row, and it’s emotional in a way I didn’t expect. Because some people have said, “It’s not a big deal,” or “Lots of people do that.”
But they don’t know what the last five years looked like. They don’t know how hard it was to show up for myself at all. They don’t know how many days I had to fight just to choose me.
🌱 Beyond Borders didn’t pressure me — it reminded me I still belong.
We haven’t seen the big sales or huge numbers we hoped for. But we have seen people use Beyond Borders to push themselves. To stay accountable. To stay connected. To keep moving in ways that fit their lives.
And that’s exactly what it did for me too.
It reminded me that movement doesn’t have to look like racing. It reminded me that showing up counts even when the showing up is small. It reminded me that I still belong in this community — even if my version of OCR right now looks like daily steps and Crossfit at home instead of finish lines.
💛 This streak isn’t about racing. It’s about reclaiming myself.
365 days of choosing movement. 365 days of choosing consistency. 365 days of choosing me — even when life was loud, heavy, and demanding. Even when I didn’t feel strong. Even when I didn’t feel like an athlete. Even when I didn’t feel like I belonged.
These aren’t just numbers. They’re proof of healing. Proof of growth. Proof that last year’s conversations planted something real. Proof that I’m not the same person I was five years ago — or even one year ago.
And if you’re in a season where racing isn’t possible — logistically, emotionally, physically — I hope this reminds you that you’re still part of this community. Your movement still matters. Your effort still counts. Your story is still worth telling.
Sometimes the bravest thing you can do is keep going. And sometimes the biggest victories happen far away from any finish line.
