Tag Archives: inspiration

A barre n9ne ‘barre-o-versary’ of a different kind.

One year ago today, I stepped into the studio at barre n9ne, and taught my very first barre n9ne class.

As I stepped into the studio this morning, I couldn’t help but think back…

After teaching my very first class!
After teaching my very first class!

...to stepping into the studio for the first time, an opportunity of a lifetime (unknowingly) ahead of me.

…to experiencing success for the very first time, in my fitness, self image, and learning what it means to go for the touchdown and *not* just the field goal.

…to getting certified in the barre n9ne method, after hours and hours of training, learning, practicing and gaining confidence.colleage 1

…to helping launch the second location of barre n9ne studio, a studio I now call my second ‘home’ (and a mere 5 mins from my true home!).

…to experiencing what Jess and I like to call #everysingletime where no matter what mood, time of day, etc. we ALWAYS feel like a million bucks, like we helped our clients work towards their goals, that we inspired, welcomed, pushed, and enjoyed every.single.minute.

…and to being part of a family and community of clients and instructors that care so damn much about each other, that motivate, support, and truly care for each other. I firmly believe that to achieve that level of community is incredible difficult, it cannot be replicated, it cannot be forced…it just…happens. Naturally.¬†

And, more than anything, after now teaching hundreds of classes, meeting hundreds of clients, and experiencing day in and day out such a passion, I truly feel so blessed to be doing what I am doing. It feels surreal…and one of my biggest blessings, one that I vow to continue to pay forward day in and day out. Because I believe in it, I love it, and I cannot imagine *not* being part of this family.

As we lovingly say…#b94lyf. And to Tanya…thank you. A million times over.

barre5(and check out my new page – all about barre n9ne posts – I loved looking back at these posts!)


File under: I know something you don’t know!

File also under: being vague, but I swear I’ll reveal soon ūüėČ

I posted this on Facebook today: ‘I know something you don’t know…neener, neener!’ #superstitious.¬†

It’s partially why I’ve been all quiet up in here and partially because of the ole writer’s block, in a sense too.

And without (yet) going into detail, this ‘what I know and you don’t’ was just a huge, huge reminder of two things:

never¬†underestimate¬†the people that enter your lives or why…because you truly DO meet every single person for a reason.


believe in God’s will and favor and in time – the right time – it will all start to fall into place.¬†

These two truths spoke loud and clear to M and me this week, as we sat on Monday evening, quietly, watching Joel Osteen speak these very words (similar to these), as we held hands, looked at each other, and just…hoped. Hoped for the goodness we so wanted…but in reverse, hoped that the goodness we wanted was also what HE wanted FOR US…but to have the faith to trust that if it was not what He wanted for us right now, it would not happen and we would need to be okay with that, to trust and know that whatever is meant to be, will be.

Well…it looks like God’s plan is yet again at work, and we feel incredibly blessed at the way our lives are playing out together, where it’s leading us, together, united. I will of course share ‘where’ this is leading us soon, but rather than hamper my thoughts on this and set them aside, I just felt the urge to chronicle them here, while in the moment, and feeling the power of Him, so greatly and powerfully.

140948663309064374_Qw7C5ltl_cI honestly feel as though my connection to God is as strong – if not stronger – than it has ever been. My personal relationship with Him, and something that M and I speak of often these days, despite slightly different views (he being Catholic, me being¬†Protestant/Congregational), it is something we both respect and it is yet another reason I fall in love with M more and more each day…his dedication to living a life of good, and ¬†leading by example, inspires me to be a better me as well. And it makes me even more excited to call him my husband…whenever that may be ūüėČ

Cheers, friends.


A story of sisterhood.

Growing up as a triplet is a unique experience in so many ways. It’s truly so hard to explain to those that are only children or have older or younger siblings, especially because being a triplet is all I have ever known (especially since we don’t have any other siblings).

I think the biggest thing about being a triplet is the role it plays in our lives, from childhood to adulthood in terms of stepping back and ‘who’s on first’ (for lack of a better term).

This may sound pretty obvious, but as triplets, there is an inherent urge to ‘compete’ and ‘be on first’ since there is naturally much less of an ability for that, growing up exactly the same age, doing exactly the same things at exactly the same time.

But there are just times when you need to step back. Take the backseat and let one (or both) of your sisters shine. Be ‘on first.’ ¬†And ultimately, to be the proud sister supporting, quietly, strong. There.


There are two distinct examples of this in recent years. The first one is when my sister Jen had my niece Isabel two years ago. As the first to bring a child into this world, naturally, the focus was on her, and my niece. But as there were some major complications with my niece’s birth and several months of health issues to follow for my sister, life became all hands on deck, supporting her, helping get her back to health and help take care of our beautiful niece. It was honestly a very scary time, my fear that my sister was…well, very ill, was one of the scariest feelings. And I just wanted to take it all away for her and carry some of that physical burden. And then…she recovered. She grew stronger. We banded together and supported.

And from that point forward, seeing my sister flourish as a mother, getting through an extremely difficult and traumatic health experience and stepping into the role of mother has been one of the proudest times for me as a sister. As she experienced something neither Jess or I ever have, and had, for the first time, experienced something completely different than either Jess or I had. She is a shining example of what I hope to ever achieve as a mother one day, the devotion, love, and strength she carries for my niece is incredible.

And while this experience, to this day, signaled the first time we were going through a life experience differently, separately…not the same (as our lives had paralleled in so many ways all the way through life)…the¬†one common factor in all of this?


Stepping back.

Allowing her to ‘be on first’ and supporting her throughout as much as we possibly could. And from that experience onward? I don’t think our bond as sisters could be much stronger than it is now. Even though we are now living our lives differently, in so many ways. We still share the common bond, the sisterhood, the support, and the love that is¬†indescribable.


The second example of this is this weekend. My sister Jess’s first marathon. While I won’t detail anything about the race itself, since she will do that herself and do it plenty more justice than I ever could, watching it all unfold was simply one of the proudest moments for me as a sister. The outpouring of support. Twitter, Facebook, emails, texts, phone calls. Support, support, support.¬†

Preparing to run sherpa their race, I knew this weekend was going to be incredible. A blur. And, honestly? Work. I knew it would take a lot of support, planning and running around to help make this happen for her. To help keep her calm (even with a near-Healthy Bites disaster!!). To make sure she felt ready. To carry her big ass bag of post-race needs as M and I hoofed it miles and miles and more miles to the start, mile 8, mile 15 and mile 26.2 to run sherpa our asses off (and freeze them off too!!). And to allow her to ‘be on first.’¬†

Not once did I feel like I wish I was out there running with her (okay, maybe once, when I realized I could have planned to hop in for a few miles to run alongside her! Hindsight.). Not once did I feel sad that we weren’t sharing this together. (because we were, truthfully!) I just felt pride, joy and happiness. Tweeting out updates left and right. Fielding texts and emails for updates and requests for pictures all morning long….gave me joy. I loved seeing her ‘on first’ and getting all of the support and love that she deserves.

And when she crossed that finish line, I think I may have rivaled how proud they both felt. As tears rolled down my cheeks and I shakily tweeted “Ahhhh there they go! Hand in hand!!!! #teamsutera #finish #runsherpa”, I was happy. Simply happy beyond words. And I still am.


I share this story because it has been a time of reflection for me lately. Thinking about my tendencies as a sister and the shift I have really worked hard at in terms of the comparison trap, the competing for ‘being on first’ that has inherently been a part of our lives our entire lives. I no longer get the urge to want to do what my sisters do simply because they are doing them and I want to do it together. I just find ways to share in their separate joys with them, my way.

For Jen, it was stepping into backup mom role with midnight feedings when she was ill, and taking her to doctor’s appointments (as tough as those appointments could be sometimes, I, to this day, look at them fondly as sister days, where Jen and I grew closer than ever. I am pretty sure she is thinking of the very same appointment I am, as she reads this!). And it is working on being the best aunt I can be, spending time with my niece, learning from her, teaching her. <–I am still really working on this, and finding more time to spend together. It is my vow, sis!

For Jess, it has been finding my role in supporting her training for a marathon. When she first decided she wanted to do a marathon, my first thought was ‘I wish I wanted to run a marathon’ and as much as I tried to want it…I just didn’t. And that was okay. It was a turning point for me in realizing I don’t have to do what either of my sisters does. And writing this down and admitting that I used to feel that way, while hard, feels triumphant.

Because now? I am the proudest sister on the planet, of both of my sisters and their different paths, while I create my own path and life in this world that is truly me and mine.  

I love you sisters, and I am truly thankful for you each and every day. ‚̧

Embracing the current season of my life.

I read Dorry’s blog today and her words spoke to me (again, yet again!) as I struggle (in a good way!) with the words to follow my last post on my engagement (!) to M.

And when I say struggle, I say this because I never quite expected to feel the way I feel once M proposed.

I knew he would.

I knew we would.

And I knew it is what we both wanted.

But what I didn’t know, was how I would react. How I would feel. Besides that elated, happy, can’t-wipe-the-smile-off-my-face feeling, I feel so ready. So so ready. To become a family with M. To be our own unit. To continue our story, wherever it leads us.

And part of that ready feeling? Jump, skipping ahead to the next. To IT. 

To marriage.

Yet there is this ‘gap’ between now and marriage that I don’t want to look past. The here and now. The current season of our lives.¬†

As we enjoy the bliss that we are in, embrace the love that continues to grow, and stop and practice gratitude for finding each other at exactly the right time in our lives (thanks for the unintentional nudge Lindsay!), there is so much in-between to enjoy. Individually, and together.

So this is my reminder. To me. To him. To anyone reading.

Embrace the current season of your life. Even if there is something exciting around the corner. And conversely, even if there isn’t. We only get one chance at this life, let’s do it right.


(and thank you THANK YOU for all of your comments, tweets, texts and blog shout-outs. I have not stopping beaming and being blown away by all the love, happiness and support for us!!). 

11 mental miles.

By now, you’ve probably figured out that I have been quietly tacking on to my ‘virtual sherpa’ miles in support of my sister’s marathon next month. (and while I still refuse to say exactly where I’m going –¬†proverbially¬†and literally (!) speaking, I’ll share my goal when I reach it, mmk?)

So, this morning ended up being our ‘virtual sherpa’ run even though Jess isn’t planning to run her next long run (20 miles (!)) until Saturday (part of the reason for our ‘early’ sherpa’ing? It’s our two year anniversary ¬†– yayyyyy – on Saturday and running 11 miles that morning did not seem to be the most romantic way to start it off, hehe).

11 miles was the plan.

I mapped out our route last night and unlike my sister, who, mentally, finds it easier to tackle longer distances by doing the same route several times (so, a 7 mile loop twice for 14 miles, for example) while for me, that would bore me to tears and also tempt me into stopping early. For me, a long loop the extent of the run just does it for me.

So. Our run took us 11 miles and almost entirely of one continuous route. The only change was one loop to get us to 11. And honestly, that loop played mental mind games with me. As we looped around, my legs were just beat up. (even though I intentionally gave myself a day between runs to let them rest a bit). They felt like I was at mile 9 or 10, not mile 5 and 6. Even M’s legs were tired prematurely.

We kept going and around mile 7, walked some and had some water and fuel (ala Healthy Bites, thank you Lindsay!!). I was SO thirsty for some reason, but only drank a little, given I always side cramp if I am not careful with water consumption. This is where I started to freak out a little. I was just.so.tired. We came up to a spot where we go left, and complete 11 miles, or go right (and a huge ass mofo of a hill, I might add) and shorten our run and go home. If this says anything about this run РI was thisclose to taking the shorter, yet, mofo-hill way. SOclose. 

And then M gave me some tough love. He said ‘look. I’m tired too. I don’t know what’s happening to us today, but we got up this morning to run 11 miles. We are going to run 11 miles.’

Me, using my inside voice: ‘sheesh. I love you too babe.’


So, we kept going. And it was just labor. Torture. I am pretty sure I could not have been more miserable in these final 4 miles than I was (and I might add, not ONE BUNNY the entire run. That should have been a sign this run was going to be miserable!). At the only other super steep mofo-like hill, I just had to walk it. I tried to run, my legs were practically moving backwards (it’s that steep, I swear). So I stopped. And I felt the lump in my throat rising. The panic setting in. And I shed a couple of tears, but tried to hide them. We didn’t speak. Just breathed, held hands.¬†

And we took off once again and somehow, some way, managed to make it all 11 miles. It felt like 20. Truly. They felt almost entirely like dismal, awful, just downright angry miles. (except for the beautiful sunrise we witnessed during the first 3 miles of our run, the only good miles we ran, I do believe!).

So we made it. 11 mental miles. 

And when I head out for that redemption run on Saturday (a shorter one, of course) with M, on our two year anniversary, I’m going to turn those mental miles into happy miles. Channel the last two years. The best years of my life.¬†