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Mother Nature is my first love. Experienced — fitness, wellness, and the great outdoors. Credentialed — respiratory therapy and yoga.

Easy to use products to restore your health.

A girl carrying a resusable water bottle.
Photo by Bluewater Globe on Unsplash

My favorite drink is water, especially from a good well or spring. However, when you’re sweating or need a boost, you need more than plain water.

Don’t worry. Coffee is on the list too. And a few supplements.

The products I use have clean and minimal ingredients and come from trusted sources, with a lot of trial and error. I look for little to no added sugar or artificial ingredients with no side effects like stomach upset or sugar crash. Most of them are powders that mix well in water and take no time to use.

If I can’t find…

The grief when sport and spirit are intertwined.

A girl on a hiking trail, sitting down, holding her legs, sad.
Photo by Andrew Neel on Unsplash

I like solo adventures because it’s the only time I feel free. I intuitively set my pace. I feel the rhythm. My thoughts start to fade away. I smile to myself.

It’s the only chance I have to ignore the voice in my head telling me to slow down and stay on course.

It’s the only time I don’t feel repressed.

I love to adventure with my friends, but I live in prison.

When I’m alone, my pace is smooth. I don’t feel bound.

When my body feels good, I need to flow.

I need that feeling of freedom because…

To hell with cellulite. I just want to keep walking.

Photo by Alexander Krivitskiy on Unsplash

“It’s not vanity to feel you have a right to be beautiful. Women are taught to feel we’re not good enough, that we must live up to someone else’s standards. But my aim is to cherish myself as I am.”

— Elle Macpherson

Young girls become obsessed with abs and sexy legs. To the extreme, they do high-intensity exercise seven days a week, with no goal or structure in mind, only beauty.

Eventually, they burn out, quit, gain an unhealthy amount of weight, and lose self-confidence. Or they’re forced to quit because they’ve injured themselves or made themselves sick. …

She didn’t have one child but twin girls to raise.

A single red rose.
Photo by Timothy Dykes on Unsplash

“You can’t go back and change the beginning, but you can start where you are and change the ending.”

— C.S. Lewis

She didn’t deserve to be repressed or depressed. She was never going to live that way.

She was never going to teach her daughters that mistreatment was acceptable.

My father loved my sister and me, my mother too. He was stuck in a pattern that he wasn’t willing to learn how to break. Darkness consumed him — anger and violence, jealousy and hate. He inherited it. He learned it. He lived it.

He never broke the cycle.


They can’t smell it if you don’t feel it

A woman’s face, the focal point is her eyes, longing for something.
Photo by Marina Vitale on Unsplash

I’m alone a lot. I constantly look over my shoulder, read people, and stay on the defense. I’m able to defend myself. It hurts to imagine being a woman who cannot.

I recently read an article on Medium written by a woman with a disability describing her fear while traveling. How could she defend herself if need be? She encountered several situations that made her uncomfortable — constantly thinking about protecting herself, knowing she was limited in her ability.

She was alone.

Ah. The woman in fear of strange men. It comes with the territory — being a woman makes…

Stop calling us heroes and fix the fundamental problem.

Photo by Charles Chen on Unsplash

I was not a hero when you called me “essential,” I am not a hero now, and I never will be. Neither are my coworkers.

We are healthcare practitioners.

Calling us heroes elicits martyrdom — a display of feigned or exaggerated suffering to obtain sympathy or admiration. I am not a martyr.

And because most of us are not martyrs, being called heroes makes us feel uncomfortable.

We are also not soldiers. We didn’t “sign up for this.”

We are regular people who want to provide for our families and avoid poverty: the American dream.

I worked tirelessly toward a…

Outdoor adventuring doesn’t have to be an extreme feat. How do you get started or keep going?

A woman sitting on a rock in the forest, taking a break from mountain biking.
Photo of the author by her husband, Chuck Morris. Canaan Valley, Moon Rocks, West Virginia.

“I like mountains because they make me feel small. They help me sort out what is important in life.”

— Mark Obmascik

My twin sister and I grew up with a very effective coping mechanism from the time we were born—the forest.

We grew up in the Laurel Highlands of the Appalachian Mountains in southwestern Pennsylvania on the Youghiogheny River — on the border of West Virginia and Maryland.

She lives near our childhood home, and I live in West Virginia. …

Your recovery game must be as good as the game itself.

A woman with a strong back
Photo by Scott Webb on Unsplash

“Moving isn’t important, until you can’t.”

— Gray Cook

At the age of 25, I endured a back injury that forced me to my knees for longer than I ever imagined.

That was thirteen years ago. I have permanent damage to my low back — sacroiliac joint dysfunction.

I crawled in pain. I cried in pain. I screamed in pain. I lost hope.

The ugliest part of my recovery lasted about a decade. It still ebbs and flows.

It destroyed me. It defined me. It has empowered me.

Mostly, it has refined me.

It has educated me and forced me…

What do you mean you have never peed outside?

Photo by Artur Aldyrkhanov on Unsplash

Some years ago, I taught a yoga class and instructed the group to take malasana. I said, “Squat down to a comfortable place, heels up or down, heart open. You know, like you’re peeing in the woods.” We all laughed. One of my regulars, a woman in her fifties, stated, “I’ve never peed outside!” I said, “What! Not even in your yard?” She said, “No, never.” We laughed again.

I was dumbfounded. Curiosity took over my mind!

How has she never been in a position that required popping a squat? Has she never been camping or hiking? Has she never…

No, I won’t sacrifice my health for you

A woman face down crying in bed
Photo by Alex Boyd on Unsplash

It’s hard to imagine the past before I had to build my entire life around avoiding debilitation. Thirteen years ago, I dislocated my left sacroiliac joint. The sacroiliac (SI) joint attaches the pelvis to the lower spine and provides support, stability and helps absorb impact when walking and lifting.

I was 25 years old, working as a raft guide on the Chattooga River in the southeast, U.S.A. I was living in a bungalow, surrounded by friends, and had little responsibility! …

Tara Lynn Morris

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