Fitness & Mental health

Autumn has beautifully swept over me. I do like changes, and the wind with its sudden grey skies reminds me of introspective times, being cozy at home, meditating, going to bed early. Unexpectedly, I’ve welcomed this season with elegance. Normally, this is the time when I prepare myself for the “war” called winter. And if you are a fan of the cold season, please try to stand in my shoes: I am a Latina, used to steady sunny days, Christmas celebrations shared with family and friends, and a carousel of music that lasts about three months. For me, this cold and harsh time of year has always been painful, sometimes even tearing me apart. Over the years, I’ve developed what I call the “quality” of running away from discomfort or at least choosing the kind of discomfort I’m willing to endure. I’ve always been proud of my ability to face and push through tough situations, but in truth, I often forgot how many times I simply changed the scenario altogether to clear obstacles. Most of the time...

  The other day, I had to take a little more than ten days off from the gym due to a small but annoying lower back injury. Just to be clear, since I started in the fitness world, I had never taken more than a week off because “may consistency be my anthem” is my way. Surprisingly, the week went by just fine. In fact, it gave me the space to reflect on certain behaviors and addictions I had been carrying on my back for pretty much all my life. I managed to sit in that gap and truly contemplate how addicted we are to things, even the healthy ones. We often judge a child who throws a tantrum because they didn’t get their lollipop, but don’t we also, in our own contained (and sometimes very uncontained) ways, crave attention, validation, or the feeling of being better and looking good? Even when that craving takes the form of sports, it’s still a kind of addiction. The only difference is that this particular “drug” is socially approved endorsed by society and some  health org...

My first true wake-up call came in 1996, when I was just 21. A broken heart had thrown me into a spiral of panic attacks and depression, and I suddenly had no choice but to search for a way to heal myself. People often said that “difficult times make you stronger” or that “everything happens for a reason.” At the time, it sounded like a logical explanation (or maybe just a way to make sense of what felt unbearable) but today I see it very differently. My healing journey began with acupuncture. During one of my sessions, my practitioner suggested I try Zen meditation at a small center tucked away in the mountains of Mérida, Venezuela, in a place called El Valle . At that point, I was desperate and willing to try anything. So I went. I sat. I practiced. I stayed. I learned discipline. It wasn’t easy, but over the course of eight months, little by little, I began to free myself from what I once believed was the root of my suffering. Slowly, I started to reconnect with myself and find my ...