Remember that show with Joel McHale and Alison Brie?

Have you ever been through a thing in life that made you subtract rather than add? Re-evaluate what (and who) is most important? And maybe even gave you a tad more thinking time than you're used to?

Have you ever been through a thing in life that made you subtract rather than add? Re-evaluate what (and who) is most important? And maybe even gave you a tad more thinking time than you're used to?

I certainly have. And it's something I now affectionately refer to as “the pandemic.” Or sometimes “the blip,” for my fellow Marvel nerds.

Fracturing/spraining my ankle last year was also like that. I couldn't run with my friends, I couldn't go do workouts for awhile, my body had to slow down. It took longer to do things in boot and with crutches. I felt a bit more isolated. Except for working with my patients at that time. You all were awesome, watching me hobble around the table and all.

The main un-blip-like difference: I was all on my own and the rest of the world was continuing on at its freakishly fast pace. (Read more in this article I wrote about injuries and how they stink up your life).

For me, the pandemic was a time when I stopped running around all over town teaching at gyms and yoga studios, visiting family and seeing friends, in addition to treating patients and running a clinic.

Since I have one of those in-person jobs, I had to quickly pivot. I created videos and programs, did live talks on Facebook, discovered that I enjoy writing, and kept my distance from crowds for the sake of my most immunocompromised patients.

I really leaned into the solo time.

But here's what was really weird. It was the first time in my adult life that I wasn't frequenting, working at, or teaching in a gym (or 3).

What an interesting experiment, I thought, to see what it's like to just go work with my patients, and run on the trails, sometimes with friends. And that's it. (Besides hitting up the store every 2-3 weeks).

It was interesting. I learned that less really is more.

Except I missed that gym community. One where I'd see familiar faces, share a few laughs. Be around others working out boosting my energy for working out. It made the whole experience that much more delightful. Even bumping into “Sally.” (Oh, Sally, she's just being Sally).

Communities are like that, right? They are uplifting. It's nice connecting with people. At least if you're a don't-mind-being-around-people-person like me.

But I didn't realize how much my solo-time-strengthening was deconditioning my socializing muscles. I'm a pretty sociable person, if I do say so myself, and post-blip was perhaps the most uncomfortable I'd felt in group settings since maybe 7th grade, when I couldn't tell if people liked me or were just trying to be nice.

Anyway, I found that subtracting certain things opened a door for certain unknown other things to show up.

I focused up on my business ownership skills.

I took really good care of the patients right in front of me.

And I found community in other ways: doubling down on running with a few close friends more often; forming a following in those weekly live talks I was doing; finding new friendships with fellow Trail Sisters; and even connecting with people through facebook and instagram.

Community is important to us as humans. It's in our nature.

That's part of why I'm making a point to hit up people's (yours, if you want) inbox more often. I'd like to be part of your community. Even if we don't see each other in person all the time, even if you're off my table and so much better now, even if we live far away from each other, maybe I can be part of your health community, or your body awareness community. Or we can share jokes about tv shows (remember that one with Joel McHale called.. wait for it.. Community?), like that new one, GLOW, where Alison Brie (who was also in Community) tears up the rink 80s-leotard-style as a wrestler, or argue about Bhakti Chai being the all-time best milky beverage around (it totally is).

As a clinician and solo-prenuer, I'd like to have you in my community. One that's genuine. That makes you want to heal up and strut your stuff. And I'd love to know what I can do to support you wherever I can. With my numchuck clinical skills, or my entertaining analogies (or is it metaphors?).

Through these emails and other things I write or create, I aim to not bug you, or crowd your already crowded inbox, or annoy you with my injuries are like poo references. My aim is to inspire, educate, and empower. And mainly connect.

I believe the human body is one whole connected entity. And just like it, we all thrive when we realize we, too, are all connected.

Sign up and get my emails here.

Is there anything you'd like to see from me specifically? Anything you'd like to know more about? Anything you're struggling with right now?

Have I ever sparked an interest in something- body, health, or otherwise- that makes you think, hmmm I'd love to know more about this? Anything I could create that would be of great help to smooth out your life?

I am here to hear about it.

And thanks to you for being here too. I appreciate you.

xo,

Lara

PS. Read Just like a big pile of poo, injuries stink

PPS. Have friends, colleagues, or family members join the community here

PPPS. Check out my website updates before my designer fixes all the stuff I messed up. I've been wrestling with the back end lately (oh you, not my back end, silly)