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To celebrate the 1yr anniversary of my spinal fusion surgery, I decided to see if I could ‘run’ 1 mile very slowly—something my surgeon said was an unlikely possibility. Running, he urged, is one thing best considered permanently retired.

Perhaps he’s right. But I believe in possibility—bullheaded, I need to find out for myself. To set up for success (and avoid recklessness), I prepared for this moment by rigorously devoting the last 130 days to relearning proper posture, and by rebuilding my strength, mobility, stability, and flexibility—all while being careful to not cause undue compression on my lower spine.

By dint of inhabiting the patient and plodding tortoise as my precious spirit animal, by the time my 1-year surgery birthday rolled around, I believed myself prepared to test whether a return to running might be even remotely possible.

To ‘run’ this science experiment, I recruited my little brother from Down Under to our shared DUMBO laboratory, because @dan_churchill is positively one of the most positive and encouraging people I’m privileged to know.

The goal was simple. Run a single mile. As slowly as possible.

Success. Not because I completed the mile (I knew I could), but because I woke up the next am w/o pain, which is a joy & a relief.

Nonetheless, the significance is symbolic. It doesn’t mean my relationship with running will be what it once was. It won’t. No problem. I don’t need nor even wantthat. What I do want is new relationship with running, a different affair with my favorite aerobic activity. One that isn’t about being hard, but instead about joy. About service. About connection & community.

Today I’m hopeful, a tortoise telling myself that it’s not about fast, it’s about moving forward slowly without the hare giving me care.

I say this because my surgery taught me the value of slowing down. How the answers I seek are only available when I am—which means doubling down on being present.

Transformation is the prize for moving forward undeterred—knowing all the while that life isn’t a race. It’s an experience to be shared not a competition to win.

Thx for the memories Dan & @colebradley25 for the brilliant 📸‼️

✌🏼🐢 ❤️ -r

To celebrate the 1yr anniversary of my spinal fusion surgery, I decided to see if I could ‘run’ 1 mile very slowly—something my surgeon said was an unlikely possibility. Running, he urged, is one thing best considered permanently retired.

Perhaps he’s right. But I believe in possibility—bullheaded, I need to find out for myself. To set up for success (and avoid recklessness), I prepared for this moment by rigorously devoting the last 130 days to relearning proper posture, and by rebuilding my strength, mobility, stability, and flexibility—all while being careful to not cause undue compression on my lower spine.

By dint of inhabiting the patient and plodding tortoise as my precious spirit animal, by the time my 1-year surgery birthday rolled around, I believed myself prepared to test whether a return to running might be even remotely possible.

To ‘run’ this science experiment, I recruited my little brother from Down Under to our shared DUMBO laboratory, because @dan_churchill is positively one of the most positive and encouraging people I’m privileged to know.

The goal was simple. Run a single mile. As slowly as possible.

Success. Not because I completed the mile (I knew I could), but because I woke up the next am w/o pain, which is a joy & a relief.

Nonetheless, the significance is symbolic. It doesn’t mean my relationship with running will be what it once was. It won’t. No problem. I don’t need nor even wantthat. What I do want is new relationship with running, a different affair with my favorite aerobic activity. One that isn’t about being hard, but instead about joy. About service. About connection & community.

Today I’m hopeful, a tortoise telling myself that it’s not about fast, it’s about moving forward slowly without the hare giving me care.

I say this because my surgery taught me the value of slowing down. How the answers I seek are only available when I am—which means doubling down on being present.

Transformation is the prize for moving forward undeterred—knowing all the while that life isn’t a race. It’s an experience to be shared not a competition to win.

Thx for the memories Dan & @colebradley25 for the brilliant 📸‼️

✌🏼🐢 ❤️ -r

To celebrate the 1yr anniversary of my spinal fusion surgery, I decided to see if I could ‘run’ 1 mile very slowly—something my surgeon said was an unlikely possibility. Running, he urged, is one thing best considered permanently retired.

Perhaps he’s right. But I believe in possibility—bullheaded, I need to find out for myself. To set up for success (and avoid recklessness), I prepared for this moment by rigorously devoting the last 130 days to relearning proper posture, and by rebuilding my strength, mobility, stability, and flexibility—all while being careful to not cause undue compression on my lower spine.

By dint of inhabiting the patient and plodding tortoise as my precious spirit animal, by the time my 1-year surgery birthday rolled around, I believed myself prepared to test whether a return to running might be even remotely possible.

To ‘run’ this science experiment, I recruited my little brother from Down Under to our shared DUMBO laboratory, because @dan_churchill is positively one of the most positive and encouraging people I’m privileged to know.

The goal was simple. Run a single mile. As slowly as possible.

Success. Not because I completed the mile (I knew I could), but because I woke up the next am w/o pain, which is a joy & a relief.

Nonetheless, the significance is symbolic. It doesn’t mean my relationship with running will be what it once was. It won’t. No problem. I don’t need nor even wantthat. What I do want is new relationship with running, a different affair with my favorite aerobic activity. One that isn’t about being hard, but instead about joy. About service. About connection & community.

Today I’m hopeful, a tortoise telling myself that it’s not about fast, it’s about moving forward slowly without the hare giving me care.

I say this because my surgery taught me the value of slowing down. How the answers I seek are only available when I am—which means doubling down on being present.

Transformation is the prize for moving forward undeterred—knowing all the while that life isn’t a race. It’s an experience to be shared not a competition to win.

Thx for the memories Dan & @colebradley25 for the brilliant 📸‼️

✌🏼🐢 ❤️ -r

To celebrate the 1yr anniversary of my spinal fusion surgery, I decided to see if I could ‘run’ 1 mile very slowly—something my surgeon said was an unlikely possibility. Running, he urged, is one thing best considered permanently retired.

Perhaps he’s right. But I believe in possibility—bullheaded, I need to find out for myself. To set up for success (and avoid recklessness), I prepared for this moment by rigorously devoting the last 130 days to relearning proper posture, and by rebuilding my strength, mobility, stability, and flexibility—all while being careful to not cause undue compression on my lower spine.

By dint of inhabiting the patient and plodding tortoise as my precious spirit animal, by the time my 1-year surgery birthday rolled around, I believed myself prepared to test whether a return to running might be even remotely possible.

To ‘run’ this science experiment, I recruited my little brother from Down Under to our shared DUMBO laboratory, because @dan_churchill is positively one of the most positive and encouraging people I’m privileged to know.

The goal was simple. Run a single mile. As slowly as possible.

Success. Not because I completed the mile (I knew I could), but because I woke up the next am w/o pain, which is a joy & a relief.

Nonetheless, the significance is symbolic. It doesn’t mean my relationship with running will be what it once was. It won’t. No problem. I don’t need nor even wantthat. What I do want is new relationship with running, a different affair with my favorite aerobic activity. One that isn’t about being hard, but instead about joy. About service. About connection & community.

Today I’m hopeful, a tortoise telling myself that it’s not about fast, it’s about moving forward slowly without the hare giving me care.

I say this because my surgery taught me the value of slowing down. How the answers I seek are only available when I am—which means doubling down on being present.

Transformation is the prize for moving forward undeterred—knowing all the while that life isn’t a race. It’s an experience to be shared not a competition to win.

Thx for the memories Dan & @colebradley25 for the brilliant 📸‼️

✌🏼🐢 ❤️ -r

To celebrate the 1yr anniversary of my spinal fusion surgery, I decided to see if I could ‘run’ 1 mile very slowly—something my surgeon said was an unlikely possibility. Running, he urged, is one thing best considered permanently retired.

Perhaps he’s right. But I believe in possibility—bullheaded, I need to find out for myself. To set up for success (and avoid recklessness), I prepared for this moment by rigorously devoting the last 130 days to relearning proper posture, and by rebuilding my strength, mobility, stability, and flexibility—all while being careful to not cause undue compression on my lower spine.

By dint of inhabiting the patient and plodding tortoise as my precious spirit animal, by the time my 1-year surgery birthday rolled around, I believed myself prepared to test whether a return to running might be even remotely possible.

To ‘run’ this science experiment, I recruited my little brother from Down Under to our shared DUMBO laboratory, because @dan_churchill is positively one of the most positive and encouraging people I’m privileged to know.

The goal was simple. Run a single mile. As slowly as possible.

Success. Not because I completed the mile (I knew I could), but because I woke up the next am w/o pain, which is a joy & a relief.

Nonetheless, the significance is symbolic. It doesn’t mean my relationship with running will be what it once was. It won’t. No problem. I don’t need nor even wantthat. What I do want is new relationship with running, a different affair with my favorite aerobic activity. One that isn’t about being hard, but instead about joy. About service. About connection & community.

Today I’m hopeful, a tortoise telling myself that it’s not about fast, it’s about moving forward slowly without the hare giving me care.

I say this because my surgery taught me the value of slowing down. How the answers I seek are only available when I am—which means doubling down on being present.

Transformation is the prize for moving forward undeterred—knowing all the while that life isn’t a race. It’s an experience to be shared not a competition to win.

Thx for the memories Dan & @colebradley25 for the brilliant 📸‼️

✌🏼🐢 ❤️ -r

To celebrate the 1yr anniversary of my spinal fusion surgery, I decided to see if I could ‘run’ 1 mile very slowly—something my surgeon said was an unlikely possibility. Running, he urged, is one thing best considered permanently retired.

Perhaps he’s right. But I believe in possibility—bullheaded, I need to find out for myself. To set up for success (and avoid recklessness), I prepared for this moment by rigorously devoting the last 130 days to relearning proper posture, and by rebuilding my strength, mobility, stability, and flexibility—all while being careful to not cause undue compression on my lower spine.

By dint of inhabiting the patient and plodding tortoise as my precious spirit animal, by the time my 1-year surgery birthday rolled around, I believed myself prepared to test whether a return to running might be even remotely possible.

To ‘run’ this science experiment, I recruited my little brother from Down Under to our shared DUMBO laboratory, because @dan_churchill is positively one of the most positive and encouraging people I’m privileged to know.

The goal was simple. Run a single mile. As slowly as possible.

Success. Not because I completed the mile (I knew I could), but because I woke up the next am w/o pain, which is a joy & a relief.

Nonetheless, the significance is symbolic. It doesn’t mean my relationship with running will be what it once was. It won’t. No problem. I don’t need nor even wantthat. What I do want is new relationship with running, a different affair with my favorite aerobic activity. One that isn’t about being hard, but instead about joy. About service. About connection & community.

Today I’m hopeful, a tortoise telling myself that it’s not about fast, it’s about moving forward slowly without the hare giving me care.

I say this because my surgery taught me the value of slowing down. How the answers I seek are only available when I am—which means doubling down on being present.

Transformation is the prize for moving forward undeterred—knowing all the while that life isn’t a race. It’s an experience to be shared not a competition to win.

Thx for the memories Dan & @colebradley25 for the brilliant 📸‼️

✌🏼🐢 ❤️ -r

To celebrate the 1yr anniversary of my spinal fusion surgery, I decided to see if I could ‘run’ 1 mile very slowly—something my surgeon said was an unlikely possibility. Running, he urged, is one thing best considered permanently retired.

Perhaps he’s right. But I believe in possibility—bullheaded, I need to find out for myself. To set up for success (and avoid recklessness), I prepared for this moment by rigorously devoting the last 130 days to relearning proper posture, and by rebuilding my strength, mobility, stability, and flexibility—all while being careful to not cause undue compression on my lower spine.

By dint of inhabiting the patient and plodding tortoise as my precious spirit animal, by the time my 1-year surgery birthday rolled around, I believed myself prepared to test whether a return to running might be even remotely possible.

To ‘run’ this science experiment, I recruited my little brother from Down Under to our shared DUMBO laboratory, because @dan_churchill is positively one of the most positive and encouraging people I’m privileged to know.

The goal was simple. Run a single mile. As slowly as possible.

Success. Not because I completed the mile (I knew I could), but because I woke up the next am w/o pain, which is a joy & a relief.

Nonetheless, the significance is symbolic. It doesn’t mean my relationship with running will be what it once was. It won’t. No problem. I don’t need nor even wantthat. What I do want is new relationship with running, a different affair with my favorite aerobic activity. One that isn’t about being hard, but instead about joy. About service. About connection & community.

Today I’m hopeful, a tortoise telling myself that it’s not about fast, it’s about moving forward slowly without the hare giving me care.

I say this because my surgery taught me the value of slowing down. How the answers I seek are only available when I am—which means doubling down on being present.

Transformation is the prize for moving forward undeterred—knowing all the while that life isn’t a race. It’s an experience to be shared not a competition to win.

Thx for the memories Dan & @colebradley25 for the brilliant 📸‼️

✌🏼🐢 ❤️ -r

To celebrate the 1yr anniversary of my spinal fusion surgery, I decided to see if I could ‘run’ 1 mile very slowly—something my surgeon said was an unlikely possibility. Running, he urged, is one thing best considered permanently retired.

Perhaps he’s right. But I believe in possibility—bullheaded, I need to find out for myself. To set up for success (and avoid recklessness), I prepared for this moment by rigorously devoting the last 130 days to relearning proper posture, and by rebuilding my strength, mobility, stability, and flexibility—all while being careful to not cause undue compression on my lower spine.

By dint of inhabiting the patient and plodding tortoise as my precious spirit animal, by the time my 1-year surgery birthday rolled around, I believed myself prepared to test whether a return to running might be even remotely possible.

To ‘run’ this science experiment, I recruited my little brother from Down Under to our shared DUMBO laboratory, because @dan_churchill is positively one of the most positive and encouraging people I’m privileged to know.

The goal was simple. Run a single mile. As slowly as possible.

Success. Not because I completed the mile (I knew I could), but because I woke up the next am w/o pain, which is a joy & a relief.

Nonetheless, the significance is symbolic. It doesn’t mean my relationship with running will be what it once was. It won’t. No problem. I don’t need nor even wantthat. What I do want is new relationship with running, a different affair with my favorite aerobic activity. One that isn’t about being hard, but instead about joy. About service. About connection & community.

Today I’m hopeful, a tortoise telling myself that it’s not about fast, it’s about moving forward slowly without the hare giving me care.

I say this because my surgery taught me the value of slowing down. How the answers I seek are only available when I am—which means doubling down on being present.

Transformation is the prize for moving forward undeterred—knowing all the while that life isn’t a race. It’s an experience to be shared not a competition to win.

Thx for the memories Dan & @colebradley25 for the brilliant 📸‼️

✌🏼🐢 ❤️ -r

To celebrate the 1yr anniversary of my spinal fusion surgery, I decided to see if I could ‘run’ 1 mile very slowly—something my surgeon said was an unlikely possibility. Running, he urged, is one thing best considered permanently retired.

Perhaps he’s right. But I believe in possibility—bullheaded, I need to find out for myself. To set up for success (and avoid recklessness), I prepared for this moment by rigorously devoting the last 130 days to relearning proper posture, and by rebuilding my strength, mobility, stability, and flexibility—all while being careful to not cause undue compression on my lower spine.

By dint of inhabiting the patient and plodding tortoise as my precious spirit animal, by the time my 1-year surgery birthday rolled around, I believed myself prepared to test whether a return to running might be even remotely possible.

To ‘run’ this science experiment, I recruited my little brother from Down Under to our shared DUMBO laboratory, because @dan_churchill is positively one of the most positive and encouraging people I’m privileged to know.

The goal was simple. Run a single mile. As slowly as possible.

Success. Not because I completed the mile (I knew I could), but because I woke up the next am w/o pain, which is a joy & a relief.

Nonetheless, the significance is symbolic. It doesn’t mean my relationship with running will be what it once was. It won’t. No problem. I don’t need nor even wantthat. What I do want is new relationship with running, a different affair with my favorite aerobic activity. One that isn’t about being hard, but instead about joy. About service. About connection & community.

Today I’m hopeful, a tortoise telling myself that it’s not about fast, it’s about moving forward slowly without the hare giving me care.

I say this because my surgery taught me the value of slowing down. How the answers I seek are only available when I am—which means doubling down on being present.

Transformation is the prize for moving forward undeterred—knowing all the while that life isn’t a race. It’s an experience to be shared not a competition to win.

Thx for the memories Dan & @colebradley25 for the brilliant 📸‼️

✌🏼🐢 ❤️ -r

To celebrate the 1yr anniversary of my spinal fusion surgery, I decided to see if I could ‘run’ 1 mile very slowly—something my surgeon said was an unlikely possibility. Running, he urged, is one thing best considered permanently retired.

Perhaps he’s right. But I believe in possibility—bullheaded, I need to find out for myself. To set up for success (and avoid recklessness), I prepared for this moment by rigorously devoting the last 130 days to relearning proper posture, and by rebuilding my strength, mobility, stability, and flexibility—all while being careful to not cause undue compression on my lower spine.

By dint of inhabiting the patient and plodding tortoise as my precious spirit animal, by the time my 1-year surgery birthday rolled around, I believed myself prepared to test whether a return to running might be even remotely possible.

To ‘run’ this science experiment, I recruited my little brother from Down Under to our shared DUMBO laboratory, because @dan_churchill is positively one of the most positive and encouraging people I’m privileged to know.

The goal was simple. Run a single mile. As slowly as possible.

Success. Not because I completed the mile (I knew I could), but because I woke up the next am w/o pain, which is a joy & a relief.

Nonetheless, the significance is symbolic. It doesn’t mean my relationship with running will be what it once was. It won’t. No problem. I don’t need nor even wantthat. What I do want is new relationship with running, a different affair with my favorite aerobic activity. One that isn’t about being hard, but instead about joy. About service. About connection & community.

Today I’m hopeful, a tortoise telling myself that it’s not about fast, it’s about moving forward slowly without the hare giving me care.

I say this because my surgery taught me the value of slowing down. How the answers I seek are only available when I am—which means doubling down on being present.

Transformation is the prize for moving forward undeterred—knowing all the while that life isn’t a race. It’s an experience to be shared not a competition to win.

Thx for the memories Dan & @colebradley25 for the brilliant 📸‼️

✌🏼🐢 ❤️ -r

To celebrate the 1yr anniversary of my spinal fusion surgery, I decided to see if I could ‘run’ 1 mile very slowly—something my surgeon said was an unlikely possibility. Running, he urged, is one thing best considered permanently retired.

Perhaps he’s right. But I believe in possibility—bullheaded, I need to find out for myself. To set up for success (and avoid recklessness), I prepared for this moment by rigorously devoting the last 130 days to relearning proper posture, and by rebuilding my strength, mobility, stability, and flexibility—all while being careful to not cause undue compression on my lower spine.

By dint of inhabiting the patient and plodding tortoise as my precious spirit animal, by the time my 1-year surgery birthday rolled around, I believed myself prepared to test whether a return to running might be even remotely possible.

To ‘run’ this science experiment, I recruited my little brother from Down Under to our shared DUMBO laboratory, because @dan_churchill is positively one of the most positive and encouraging people I’m privileged to know.

The goal was simple. Run a single mile. As slowly as possible.

Success. Not because I completed the mile (I knew I could), but because I woke up the next am w/o pain, which is a joy & a relief.

Nonetheless, the significance is symbolic. It doesn’t mean my relationship with running will be what it once was. It won’t. No problem. I don’t need nor even wantthat. What I do want is new relationship with running, a different affair with my favorite aerobic activity. One that isn’t about being hard, but instead about joy. About service. About connection & community.

Today I’m hopeful, a tortoise telling myself that it’s not about fast, it’s about moving forward slowly without the hare giving me care.

I say this because my surgery taught me the value of slowing down. How the answers I seek are only available when I am—which means doubling down on being present.

Transformation is the prize for moving forward undeterred—knowing all the while that life isn’t a race. It’s an experience to be shared not a competition to win.

Thx for the memories Dan & @colebradley25 for the brilliant 📸‼️

✌🏼🐢 ❤️ -r

To celebrate the 1yr anniversary of my spinal fusion surgery, I decided to see if I could ‘run’ 1 mile very slowly—something my surgeon said was an unlikely possibility. Running, he urged, is one thing best considered permanently retired.

Perhaps he’s right. But I believe in possibility—bullheaded, I need to find out for myself. To set up for success (and avoid recklessness), I prepared for this moment by rigorously devoting the last 130 days to relearning proper posture, and by rebuilding my strength, mobility, stability, and flexibility—all while being careful to not cause undue compression on my lower spine.

By dint of inhabiting the patient and plodding tortoise as my precious spirit animal, by the time my 1-year surgery birthday rolled around, I believed myself prepared to test whether a return to running might be even remotely possible.

To ‘run’ this science experiment, I recruited my little brother from Down Under to our shared DUMBO laboratory, because @dan_churchill is positively one of the most positive and encouraging people I’m privileged to know.

The goal was simple. Run a single mile. As slowly as possible.

Success. Not because I completed the mile (I knew I could), but because I woke up the next am w/o pain, which is a joy & a relief.

Nonetheless, the significance is symbolic. It doesn’t mean my relationship with running will be what it once was. It won’t. No problem. I don’t need nor even wantthat. What I do want is new relationship with running, a different affair with my favorite aerobic activity. One that isn’t about being hard, but instead about joy. About service. About connection & community.

Today I’m hopeful, a tortoise telling myself that it’s not about fast, it’s about moving forward slowly without the hare giving me care.

I say this because my surgery taught me the value of slowing down. How the answers I seek are only available when I am—which means doubling down on being present.

Transformation is the prize for moving forward undeterred—knowing all the while that life isn’t a race. It’s an experience to be shared not a competition to win.

Thx for the memories Dan & @colebradley25 for the brilliant 📸‼️

✌🏼🐢 ❤️ -r

To celebrate the 1yr anniversary of my spinal fusion surgery, I decided to see if I could ‘run’ 1 mile very slowly—something my surgeon said was an unlikely possibility. Running, he urged, is one thing best considered permanently retired.

Perhaps he’s right. But I believe in possibility—bullheaded, I need to find out for myself. To set up for success (and avoid recklessness), I prepared for this moment by rigorously devoting the last 130 days to relearning proper posture, and by rebuilding my strength, mobility, stability, and flexibility—all while being careful to not cause undue compression on my lower spine.

By dint of inhabiting the patient and plodding tortoise as my precious spirit animal, by the time my 1-year surgery birthday rolled around, I believed myself prepared to test whether a return to running might be even remotely possible.

To ‘run’ this science experiment, I recruited my little brother from Down Under to our shared DUMBO laboratory, because @dan_churchill is positively one of the most positive and encouraging people I’m privileged to know.

The goal was simple. Run a single mile. As slowly as possible.

Success. Not because I completed the mile (I knew I could), but because I woke up the next am w/o pain, which is a joy & a relief.

Nonetheless, the significance is symbolic. It doesn’t mean my relationship with running will be what it once was. It won’t. No problem. I don’t need nor even wantthat. What I do want is new relationship with running, a different affair with my favorite aerobic activity. One that isn’t about being hard, but instead about joy. About service. About connection & community.

Today I’m hopeful, a tortoise telling myself that it’s not about fast, it’s about moving forward slowly without the hare giving me care.

I say this because my surgery taught me the value of slowing down. How the answers I seek are only available when I am—which means doubling down on being present.

Transformation is the prize for moving forward undeterred—knowing all the while that life isn’t a race. It’s an experience to be shared not a competition to win.

Thx for the memories Dan & @colebradley25 for the brilliant 📸‼️

✌🏼🐢 ❤️ -r

To celebrate the 1yr anniversary of my spinal fusion surgery, I decided to see if I could ‘run’ 1 mile very slowly—something my surgeon said was an unlikely possibility. Running, he urged, is one thing best considered permanently retired.

Perhaps he’s right. But I believe in possibility—bullheaded, I need to find out for myself. To set up for success (and avoid recklessness), I prepared for this moment by rigorously devoting the last 130 days to relearning proper posture, and by rebuilding my strength, mobility, stability, and flexibility—all while being careful to not cause undue compression on my lower spine.

By dint of inhabiting the patient and plodding tortoise as my precious spirit animal, by the time my 1-year surgery birthday rolled around, I believed myself prepared to test whether a return to running might be even remotely possible.

To ‘run’ this science experiment, I recruited my little brother from Down Under to our shared DUMBO laboratory, because @dan_churchill is positively one of the most positive and encouraging people I’m privileged to know.

The goal was simple. Run a single mile. As slowly as possible.

Success. Not because I completed the mile (I knew I could), but because I woke up the next am w/o pain, which is a joy & a relief.

Nonetheless, the significance is symbolic. It doesn’t mean my relationship with running will be what it once was. It won’t. No problem. I don’t need nor even wantthat. What I do want is new relationship with running, a different affair with my favorite aerobic activity. One that isn’t about being hard, but instead about joy. About service. About connection & community.

Today I’m hopeful, a tortoise telling myself that it’s not about fast, it’s about moving forward slowly without the hare giving me care.

I say this because my surgery taught me the value of slowing down. How the answers I seek are only available when I am—which means doubling down on being present.

Transformation is the prize for moving forward undeterred—knowing all the while that life isn’t a race. It’s an experience to be shared not a competition to win.

Thx for the memories Dan & @colebradley25 for the brilliant 📸‼️

✌🏼🐢 ❤️ -r

To celebrate the 1yr anniversary of my spinal fusion surgery, I decided to see if I could ‘run’ 1 mile very slowly—something my surgeon said was an unlikely possibility. Running, he urged, is one thing best considered permanently retired.

Perhaps he’s right. But I believe in possibility—bullheaded, I need to find out for myself. To set up for success (and avoid recklessness), I prepared for this moment by rigorously devoting the last 130 days to relearning proper posture, and by rebuilding my strength, mobility, stability, and flexibility—all while being careful to not cause undue compression on my lower spine.

By dint of inhabiting the patient and plodding tortoise as my precious spirit animal, by the time my 1-year surgery birthday rolled around, I believed myself prepared to test whether a return to running might be even remotely possible.

To ‘run’ this science experiment, I recruited my little brother from Down Under to our shared DUMBO laboratory, because @dan_churchill is positively one of the most positive and encouraging people I’m privileged to know.

The goal was simple. Run a single mile. As slowly as possible.

Success. Not because I completed the mile (I knew I could), but because I woke up the next am w/o pain, which is a joy & a relief.

Nonetheless, the significance is symbolic. It doesn’t mean my relationship with running will be what it once was. It won’t. No problem. I don’t need nor even wantthat. What I do want is new relationship with running, a different affair with my favorite aerobic activity. One that isn’t about being hard, but instead about joy. About service. About connection & community.

Today I’m hopeful, a tortoise telling myself that it’s not about fast, it’s about moving forward slowly without the hare giving me care.

I say this because my surgery taught me the value of slowing down. How the answers I seek are only available when I am—which means doubling down on being present.

Transformation is the prize for moving forward undeterred—knowing all the while that life isn’t a race. It’s an experience to be shared not a competition to win.

Thx for the memories Dan & @colebradley25 for the brilliant 📸‼️

✌🏼🐢 ❤️ -r

To celebrate the 1yr anniversary of my spinal fusion surgery, I decided to see if I could ‘run’ 1 mile very slowly—something my surgeon said was an unlikely possibility. Running, he urged, is one thing best considered permanently retired.

Perhaps he’s right. But I believe in possibility—bullheaded, I need to find out for myself. To set up for success (and avoid recklessness), I prepared for this moment by rigorously devoting the last 130 days to relearning proper posture, and by rebuilding my strength, mobility, stability, and flexibility—all while being careful to not cause undue compression on my lower spine.

By dint of inhabiting the patient and plodding tortoise as my precious spirit animal, by the time my 1-year surgery birthday rolled around, I believed myself prepared to test whether a return to running might be even remotely possible.

To ‘run’ this science experiment, I recruited my little brother from Down Under to our shared DUMBO laboratory, because @dan_churchill is positively one of the most positive and encouraging people I’m privileged to know.

The goal was simple. Run a single mile. As slowly as possible.

Success. Not because I completed the mile (I knew I could), but because I woke up the next am w/o pain, which is a joy & a relief.

Nonetheless, the significance is symbolic. It doesn’t mean my relationship with running will be what it once was. It won’t. No problem. I don’t need nor even wantthat. What I do want is new relationship with running, a different affair with my favorite aerobic activity. One that isn’t about being hard, but instead about joy. About service. About connection & community.

Today I’m hopeful, a tortoise telling myself that it’s not about fast, it’s about moving forward slowly without the hare giving me care.

I say this because my surgery taught me the value of slowing down. How the answers I seek are only available when I am—which means doubling down on being present.

Transformation is the prize for moving forward undeterred—knowing all the while that life isn’t a race. It’s an experience to be shared not a competition to win.

Thx for the memories Dan & @colebradley25 for the brilliant 📸‼️

✌🏼🐢 ❤️ -r

To celebrate the 1yr anniversary of my spinal fusion surgery, I decided to see if I could ‘run’ 1 mile very slowly—something my surgeon said was an unlikely possibility. Running, he urged, is one thing best considered permanently retired.

Perhaps he’s right. But I believe in possibility—bullheaded, I need to find out for myself. To set up for success (and avoid recklessness), I prepared for this moment by rigorously devoting the last 130 days to relearning proper posture, and by rebuilding my strength, mobility, stability, and flexibility—all while being careful to not cause undue compression on my lower spine.

By dint of inhabiting the patient and plodding tortoise as my precious spirit animal, by the time my 1-year surgery birthday rolled around, I believed myself prepared to test whether a return to running might be even remotely possible.

To ‘run’ this science experiment, I recruited my little brother from Down Under to our shared DUMBO laboratory, because @dan_churchill is positively one of the most positive and encouraging people I’m privileged to know.

The goal was simple. Run a single mile. As slowly as possible.

Success. Not because I completed the mile (I knew I could), but because I woke up the next am w/o pain, which is a joy & a relief.

Nonetheless, the significance is symbolic. It doesn’t mean my relationship with running will be what it once was. It won’t. No problem. I don’t need nor even wantthat. What I do want is new relationship with running, a different affair with my favorite aerobic activity. One that isn’t about being hard, but instead about joy. About service. About connection & community.

Today I’m hopeful, a tortoise telling myself that it’s not about fast, it’s about moving forward slowly without the hare giving me care.

I say this because my surgery taught me the value of slowing down. How the answers I seek are only available when I am—which means doubling down on being present.

Transformation is the prize for moving forward undeterred—knowing all the while that life isn’t a race. It’s an experience to be shared not a competition to win.

Thx for the memories Dan & @colebradley25 for the brilliant 📸‼️

✌🏼🐢 ❤️ -r

To celebrate the 1yr anniversary of my spinal fusion surgery, I decided to see if I could ‘run’ 1 mile very slowly—something my surgeon said was an unlikely possibility. Running, he urged, is one thing best considered permanently retired.

Perhaps he’s right. But I believe in possibility—bullheaded, I need to find out for myself. To set up for success (and avoid recklessness), I prepared for this moment by rigorously devoting the last 130 days to relearning proper posture, and by rebuilding my strength, mobility, stability, and flexibility—all while being careful to not cause undue compression on my lower spine.

By dint of inhabiting the patient and plodding tortoise as my precious spirit animal, by the time my 1-year surgery birthday rolled around, I believed myself prepared to test whether a return to running might be even remotely possible.

To ‘run’ this science experiment, I recruited my little brother from Down Under to our shared DUMBO laboratory, because @dan_churchill is positively one of the most positive and encouraging people I’m privileged to know.

The goal was simple. Run a single mile. As slowly as possible.

Success. Not because I completed the mile (I knew I could), but because I woke up the next am w/o pain, which is a joy & a relief.

Nonetheless, the significance is symbolic. It doesn’t mean my relationship with running will be what it once was. It won’t. No problem. I don’t need nor even wantthat. What I do want is new relationship with running, a different affair with my favorite aerobic activity. One that isn’t about being hard, but instead about joy. About service. About connection & community.

Today I’m hopeful, a tortoise telling myself that it’s not about fast, it’s about moving forward slowly without the hare giving me care.

I say this because my surgery taught me the value of slowing down. How the answers I seek are only available when I am—which means doubling down on being present.

Transformation is the prize for moving forward undeterred—knowing all the while that life isn’t a race. It’s an experience to be shared not a competition to win.

Thx for the memories Dan & @colebradley25 for the brilliant 📸‼️

✌🏼🐢 ❤️ -r

BOREDOM!

Follow: @drchatterjee X @richroll and head to Episode 412 of Dr. Chatterjee’s ‘Feel Better, Live More’ podcast.

On this week’s SPECIAL mindset compilation episode, we hear from the inspirational author and podcast host, @richroll. During our conversation, Rich talks about the importance of having time alone with our thoughts and why we need discomfort in order to grow.

He also shares his thoughts about technology and the lack of downtime in our modern world, as well as why we struggle with boredom and how we can find creative ways to entertain ourselves.

Leave a YES below if you’ll be listening to this one👇🏾

You can find episode 412 of my ‘Feel Better, Live More’ podcast by clicking on the link in the @drchatterjee bio above or by searching for ‘Dr Chatterjee Mindset Compilation’ in Apple Podcasts, Spotify, YouTube, or enjoy wherever you get your podcasts.

#drchatterjee #richroll #feelbetterlivemore

Today marks the 4-year anniversary of this viral tweet, which—according to Instagram’s terms of service—requires me to now share it as a Reel😂

Joke aside, if you are stuck or struggling, expand your timeline, embrace a more patient, long view, and double down on the things that make you feel alive. In time, you just might amaze yourself.

Now on the cusp of 56, I still feel like I’m just getting started. And a life that once felt empty is now one that wakes me up every day enthusiastic about possibility and infused with purpose.

I believe in this possibility for you—so stop waiting. Stop asking for permission. And get into action.

✌🏼🌱 -Rich

I did iboga therapy. And I’ve been sitting with my experience for a while now.

This week, my wife Julie (@srimati) helps me finally share it, because what followed was the most confrontational experience of my life. And the most meaningful.

Streaming in all the pod places + YouTube. As always, link is in my bio.

NEW today on the pod: ultrarunner Andy Glaze (@amglaze).

By 16, he was strung out on crystal meth. Three decades later, he's logged 100-mile weeks for over 320 weeks straight.

And he's still figuring out how to live with what running can't fix.

Listen now on the Rich Roll Podcast, or watch it all go down on YouTube.

Andy Glaze (@amglaze) is known as the smiling ultrarunner.

But the smile is not the story.

Excited to share this one with you all. Streaming tomorrow in all the pod places✌️

Andy Glaze (@amglaze) is known as the smiling ultrarunner.

But the smile is not the story.

Excited to share this one with you all. Streaming tomorrow in all the pod places✌️

Andy Glaze (@amglaze) is known as the smiling ultrarunner.

But the smile is not the story.

Excited to share this one with you all. Streaming tomorrow in all the pod places✌️

Andy Glaze (@amglaze) is known as the smiling ultrarunner.

But the smile is not the story.

Excited to share this one with you all. Streaming tomorrow in all the pod places✌️

Protect your momentum.

Extracted from my last solo episode “Pay Now, Love It Later”

Listen on all podcast platforms + YouTube.

Protect your momentum.

Extracted from my last solo episode “Pay Now, Love It Later”

Listen on all podcast platforms + YouTube.

Protect your momentum.

Extracted from my last solo episode “Pay Now, Love It Later”

Listen on all podcast platforms + YouTube.

Good morning. Good to be back home. Good to get up early. Good to feel good from the other day. Good to feel grateful. Good to be alive. Have a great day.
✌🏼🌱🐢 -r

NYC 📸 by @colebradley25

Good morning. Good to be back home. Good to get up early. Good to feel good from the other day. Good to feel grateful. Good to be alive. Have a great day.
✌🏼🌱🐢 -r

NYC 📸 by @colebradley25

Good morning. Good to be back home. Good to get up early. Good to feel good from the other day. Good to feel grateful. Good to be alive. Have a great day.
✌🏼🌱🐢 -r

NYC 📸 by @colebradley25

Good morning. Good to be back home. Good to get up early. Good to feel good from the other day. Good to feel grateful. Good to be alive. Have a great day.
✌🏼🌱🐢 -r

NYC 📸 by @colebradley25

Good morning. Good to be back home. Good to get up early. Good to feel good from the other day. Good to feel grateful. Good to be alive. Have a great day.
✌🏼🌱🐢 -r

NYC 📸 by @colebradley25

Good morning. Good to be back home. Good to get up early. Good to feel good from the other day. Good to feel grateful. Good to be alive. Have a great day.
✌🏼🌱🐢 -r

NYC 📸 by @colebradley25

Good morning. Good to be back home. Good to get up early. Good to feel good from the other day. Good to feel grateful. Good to be alive. Have a great day.
✌🏼🌱🐢 -r

NYC 📸 by @colebradley25

Good morning. Good to be back home. Good to get up early. Good to feel good from the other day. Good to feel grateful. Good to be alive. Have a great day.
✌🏼🌱🐢 -r

NYC 📸 by @colebradley25

Good morning. Good to be back home. Good to get up early. Good to feel good from the other day. Good to feel grateful. Good to be alive. Have a great day.
✌🏼🌱🐢 -r

NYC 📸 by @colebradley25

Good morning. Good to be back home. Good to get up early. Good to feel good from the other day. Good to feel grateful. Good to be alive. Have a great day.
✌🏼🌱🐢 -r

NYC 📸 by @colebradley25

Good morning. Good to be back home. Good to get up early. Good to feel good from the other day. Good to feel grateful. Good to be alive. Have a great day.
✌🏼🌱🐢 -r

NYC 📸 by @colebradley25

There is always more right with us than wrong. We just have to be willing to look.

Today on the pod, Dr. Paul Conti returns to flip the script on modern psychiatry and ask a more generative question: what's going right?

Watch it on YouTube and listen everywhere you find your podcasts.

Last thing: I've got 5 copies of Paul's new book "What's Going Right" looking for good homes. Giveaway link is in my bio.

Women’s performance has been understudied, underfunded, and misunderstood for too long, and @drstacysims is doing something about it. We had the privilege of joining her and @richroll at his podcast studio for a live conversation covering the science behind how women train, recover, and thrive across every phase of life.

The day started with a morning hike, moved into an outdoor yoga class, and was fueled by a menu featuring Momentous products.

We were grateful to be surrounded by partners and people who are just as invested in this conversation as we are.

The full podcast is live now on YouTube. Link in bio.

How can we not only live longer, but live better? Rich Roll shares how he uses WHOOP as a tool to stay consistent for a longer, stronger life.

Three words that rearrange how you live if you let them: Mood. Follows. Action.

Solo riff on the podcast this week.

Now available on YT and everywhere you listen to the Rich Roll pod. Link in my bio.