It’s been one long year. I know I said that (and we all said that) about 2020. And yet, rounding out year two of this pandemic has been overwhelming, disappointing, confusing, exhausting and all 83 of the other emotions and experiences Brené Brown writes about in her latest book, Atlas of the Heart. Damn straight I’m reading that right now--and I highly recommend that you do too to make meaning of this cluster of a year.

And yet still, I feel hopeful. Optimistic. Grateful for so many things in my life and work.

One way I find my way back to hope is to review my year and take an inventory of my moments of pride. Moments I’ve shown up for my people and my work, despite all the obstacles.

Of course, there are moments I could have done better. There always will be. I’m human after all. Yet focusing on these moments sends me spinning, rather than building momentum along my path.

So, here I am. Documenting my top five list of what I did well. And you can do the same as a reminder of all you’re capable of accomplishing...and being.

1. After four years of coordinating care for my Uncle Ray who struggled with Parkinson’s for over 25 years, I helped guide him through his last days listening to his favorite jazz tunes, hearing the words from people who loved him and receiving the best care possible to ease the transition.

2. Even with the experience and memories of my own fraught Bat Mitzvah that was just one year after I lost both my parents in a car accident, I supported, loved and cheered on my daughter through her Bat Mitzvah milestone. It was also complex with covid restrictions--and yet in some ways the intimacy and the sole focus on the ceremony made it even more meaningful.

3. I experimented with and launched new, lower cost ways of working with women to broaden my impact and serve more women whose careers suffered the most during the pandemic. It was out of my comfort zone to talk about what I do and sell my programs at this scale--and yet at the end of it were women getting new opportunities, claiming their worth, making more money and believing in the possibilities that were out there for them.

4. I created a podcast! A dream of mine for the past seven years. Yay!

5. I lived and parented another year in a pandemic, making hundreds of risk assessments every day, setting boundaries and sticking with them even when others didn’t like my lines. I advocated for my lines, worked hard to keep my family safe and jumped to get them vaccinated as early as possible.

I encourage you to make some time for this end end-of-year reflection and I’d love to hear more about your top moments of pride from 2021. Feel free to send me a note about what’s carrying you through the endlessness of this pandemic.

Today, I turn 41. While every year is a milestone to celebrate (in my case bejeweled with birthday tiara), I’d like to take a moment to recognize that whatever was in the “Turning 40 Kool-Aid”, I want more!

The months leading up to my 40th birthday last year were intense. I learned that my close friend, Dave, at 42 was diagnosed with ALS. My grandmother who raised me—after my parents died in a car accident when I was 11— had a stroke and was declining. And then there was the pink elephant that was out there for me to choose to see or not see. My parents never made it to 40. Here I was having this moment they would never have.

It became clear to me that there was only one sensible response to this 40th birthday introspection. Sign up for a marathon!

Having been running regularly for under a year, I decided this was my way to kick 40’s ass. I trained for five months with some of the most inspiring people I’ve ever met. People who believe they can do anything and with the incredible support they provide each other—they can. I was lucky to become one of them.

When I crossed that finish line in Central Park last November with my family screaming my name, I was overwhelmed by the thought, “What else can I do?” And that’s how I lived every day of my 40th year. I stepped outside of my “great on paper” career to ask, what’s next? I took risks like trusting a career path to which I've always been drawn and launching my business—because I believed in myself. I started my coaching practice so I can help support others on their journeys, take their risks, run their marathons and kick their “whatever age” in the ass.

Now that I’m a year older, I vow to call on the muscle memory of 40—as the fuel I’ll need to get through the tough times still to come and the peace required to enjoy what I’ve created.

41, let’s do this thing!