I wondered at first how to
describe what a 4,000-mile fitness challenge has to do with memories of Ruben
and with moving on from such a devastating loss. I've noticed that in the brief
time that's passed since I came up with the idea, moments and connections seem
to appear where they were previously absent. Maybe it's a combination of
spending more time outside, communing with friends who work out by my side,
feeling healthy, having time to think, being more present. Whatever it is, I'm
thankful for the inspiration and hopeful for the year that lies ahead because
of it.
This is an anniversary
week -- Saturday marks two years since Ruben left this world. Anniversaries are
tough and there is really no way to avoid the heightened emotions and the
flashbacks that accompany them - some vivid, some foggy, some haunting, many joyous. I'm doing my best to breathe, lean in, and hang on. I feel
surrounded by love and support and am particularly thankful for those rare
moments of complete serenity like I felt Tuesday night.
Tuesday's moment came as a
result of a last-minute decision to take a yoga class. The morning began with a
root canal (awesome, right?) which left me wondering if I would be up for my
trail running class a few hours later. I got a text from a friend telling me
to check out this yoga event, then an email from another friend who said he
couldn't use his ticket to that same event and wanted me to have it. So I
skipped my run, swallowed back some tooth pain, and ended up on the Long Center
circle at sunset with 500 others gathered to practice yoga to live music.
Of course the band
included Justin Vernon, lead singer of Bon Iver. Ruben introduced me to his
music and we saw him together at my first ACL in 2009. His albums were the
soundtracks to our mornings, our dinners, and our at-home massage visits during
hospice. The 2011 Bon Iver show was the last concert we were able to attend
together. Some of his songs were on my favorite yoga teacher's playlists and
often brought me to tears in the middle of class shortly after Ruben died. This
music continues to bring me peace, even when wrought with sadness. And here
Justin Vernon was, standing in front of me.
The venue itself had meaning, too. Ruben took me to my
first opera, La Boheme, on a beautiful Austin night at the Long Center. We got
dressed up for this special date night (we took turns each week surprising each
other with new date night ideas) and decided to walk out onto the circle during
intermission. The city looked as magical as the evening felt. It's also
where we saw Bon Iver for that final concert a month before cancer took its
final toll. 
The clouds on Tuesday made
for a majestic sunset. In one backbend I glanced toward the sky just in time to
see a flock of birds fly overhead. On more than one occasion the teachers
instructed us to embrace the people on either side of us for support so we
could lean back in challenging poses as one, chins tilting to the sky while
balancing carefully, arm in arm. Symbolic of the support I often feel.
After the final rest (shavasana),
we all sat to face the musicians with the city as their backdrop. I held
Ruben's wedding band (worn around my neck on a chain) between my thumb and
forefinger as tears streamed down my face - his presence was overwhelming.
I actually thought at more
than one point earlier that day about how yoga "won't count" toward my mileage and
so maybe I don't have time for it. I had only logged 27 miles the week before and am already feeling the need
to step it up. But deep down I know it's all part of the journey, and that the
universe served up this opportunity on a platter. When I'm open and willing to go where I'm led, I always get
what I need.
Moment after moment of what fills me up and carries me through the
darker days -- that's what I needed most -- and that's exactly what I received.
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