I spent this past weekend running the famed Cherry Blossom 10 Miler, through the monuments and mayhem of Washington DC. I was lucky to get this bib because the event is done only by lottery, and it sells out almost immediately. But, I got the bib because a keynote speaker manager who follows me on Instagram saw this post I casually dropped after running the Tokyo Marathon last month and invited me to a complimentary bib. And, it was one of those “remember this moment” kind of runs. Somewhere around mile eight, it hit me: I never imagined this life. Not the races. Not the medals. Not the six World Major Marathons. Hell, I didn’t even run a single mile until I was 39. Read that again: People always assume that I've been an athlete my whole life. But the truth is: I was anything but an athlete for most of my life. And, if you've ever dreamed of changing your relationship with your body, I'm here to tell you that if I can do it, you can too. It took me six weeks, a whole lot of gasping, and every curse word I know to actually run that first mile. And when I finally crossed that (very slow, very sweaty) one-mile finish line, I didn’t think, “I could run a marathon someday!” I thought, “Huh. Maybe I could do a 5K.” "If I manage to string three of those horrible, slow, painful miles together, maybe I could do a 5K." (Not "run" but "do." That was it. Because that was as far as I could see from where I stood.) But then I did the 5K. Then a 10K. Somewhere along the way, I stopped saying, “I’m trying to become a runner,” and I started saying, “I’m an athlete.” Which, yes, is hilarious considering my trainer once looked me dead in the eye and said: “You are the least athletic athlete I’ve ever met.” Everyone says, "If you can dream it, you can do it!" But I think that's malarkey. I didn't dream that I could run a marathon. Pfft. I get tired even driving a marathon. I ran a mile, so I dreamed of being able to run three. It's like when you climb a mountain. From the bottom, you point to the top and say, "I want to go there." But, halfway up, you look out over the vista, and what do you see? The view is entirely different than imagined. There are other mountains that you couldn’t see before: bigger mountains... mountains you wish, nay, you NEED to climb. If you limit your dreams to your current view, you’ll never dream big enough. You don’t need a master plan. You need a first step. Because here's what I know to be true this week: The work is what reveals the dream. Not the other way around. So if you're sitting there thinking, “I don’t even know what’s possible for me…” Want to be an athlete? Run the mile. You don’t need a vision board. Let’s go. Limitless just turned SIX!I wrote Limitless sitting at my kitchen table, wondering if anyone would care. Spoiler alert: they did. Six years later it landed on the Washington Post bestseller list and was named by Robin Roberts as one of Good Morning America’s Favorite Books of the Year. It’s helped people all over the world stop chasing other people’s dreams and start building lives that actually feel like their own. But more than the stats, here’s what matters to me: This book gave language to a feeling so many of us couldn’t name— That success isn’t success when it’s built on someone else’s expectations. That checking all the boxes doesn’t mean you’re on the right path. Limitless introduced the idea of consonance—that sweet spot where what you do matches who you are. When people find that alignment? They go from stuck to unstoppable. And I get to witness that every single week. Wonderhell just turned TWO!Two years ago, Wonderhell was born—not from the mountaintop, but from the mess. After the success of Limitless, I found myself overwhelmed—not with failure, but with possibility. That whiplash of “OMG, what’s next?” collided with “Can I even handle what’s next?” And suddenly I was living in a space that was exciting, uncomfortable, and filled with pressure. That space? Yes. Yes it is. Wonderhell became a framework for understanding that success isn’t the end—it’s the beginning. |