I've been in the Colorado mountains for a week, as my husband and I practice working from anywhere in the world. We've begun our days here with a bike ride at an altitude over five thousand feet. 

As I rode today, my breathing was still labored; I thought by today that my body might feel more adjusted. Yet, more than yesterday even, I struggled for breath despite coaching myself to breathe more slowly, more regularly, more evenly. 

My mind wanted to go to that place, screaming to turn back, yelling that I can't make it, taunting that I was being left behind in my husband's tracks. I ascended the first significant climb along our path and stopped for water as I gasped. I allowed my eyes to focus on the mountain vista and remember that I'm new at this. 

I gathered myself and my breathing eased, and it occurred to me in that moment that being at a higher altitude than normal and feeling out of sorts serves as an apt metaphor for anything we attempt to do in this life that requires us to show up differently. To achieve our dreams, to become the next, best version of ourselves, we can feel breathless.

We can feel like turning back.

We can feel like we can't keep up. 

We can feel unsteady and uncomfortable.

And we can rise. We can, day by day, adapt a little more to the space we are stepping into in this life. If we remember to breathe, to trust that we will get to where we want to be, and to continue along the path, we will become what we desire. 

Along the journey, friends, don't forget to look to the horizon for inspiration, and just keep peddling.