The Invisible Barrier

Throughout my life, I've heard people talk about the frustration of reaching a certain point only to be met with an invisible barrier that seemingly stops them in their tracks. A wall you didn't see coming. A resistance you can't quite explain. 

I know that barrier well. I've met it more times than I care to count.

One example I rarely talk about is my educational journey. When I first began my associate's degree, I was met with health issues, marital challenges, and family struggles. The weight of it all felt relentless. Still, I pressed on and earned my Associate of Arts. 

From there, I pursued my bachelor's degree, first in vocal performance, then later shifting gears to Community Studies and Civic Engagement (the long way to say Nonprofit Management). But not without almost quitting altogether. 

Yes, you read that right. 

I was only weeks away from applying for graduation when everything in my life began to unravel.

I was exhausted—spiritually, physically, mentally. I told several professors that I planned to quit because I simply had nothing left to give.  

At the same time, my home was slipping into foreclosure. I felt exposed. Ashamed. Like a fraud who had somehow convinced everyone else I was holding it together. 

But clearly, God had other plans. 

Some of the most unsuspecting professors came alongside me. They sat with me. They listened. They didn't rush to fix anything. They simply stayed. And in their staying, they helped me find my footing again. 

Together, we created a plan to finish strong when I no longer believed I could. I applied for incompletes in a few classes. I was still allowed to walk the stage during the Spring of 2008, but my degree would not be released until every requirement was fulfilled by the final deadline. 

And I did it.

I finished.

I'm writing about this now because the world feels like it's on fire — and so does my own life. Once again, just as I am preparing to elevate, I'm being met with obstacle after obstacle. Challenge after challenge. That familiar resistance. That invisible barrier. 

This brings me back to The Dream Giver by Dr. Bruce Wilkinson, a book I reread nearly every year. Each time, it reveals something new. It reminds me of how Ordinary was called to leave what was familiar. How family and friends tried to convince him to turn back. How giants rose up to stop him. And the moment that always stands out most to me is when Ordinary encounters the invisible wall of fear. 

It wasn't something outside of him. It was within him. The barrier wasn't meant to destroy him — it was meant to be confronted. To be pushed through. To stretch him beyond comfort and into calling. 

If I could offer a word of encouragement to my future self, or to anyone reading this, it would be this:

You have overcome invisible barriers before.

You did not break under the weight of the unknown. You rose. You healed. You grew stronger and wiser. What did you learn then that carried you to where you are now?

And if you must look back, do so only to remember how far you've come, not to return to old patterns, old thoughts, old people, or old places. 

You are more than a conqueror.

You have a proven track record of doing hard things and of pressing forward when quitting felt easier. 

So go ahead; do it again.

God is with you. 

Faithfully,

Stacie J. 

The Holy Trinity of Self-Care

Why Mind, Body, and Spirit Are Essential for Sustainable Leadership and Wellbeing

The Arrival

2026 arrived not with chaos, but with a calm, catalyzing momentum, quietly preparing us for the presence and perception of what lies ahead. Like every New Year, it entered with loud celebrations:  bangs, cheers, laughter, dancing, and hopeful hearts. And like so many Januaries before it, it also arrived carrying grief; a cluster of losses, familiar names now held in memory. 

Honoring Love

Today, I pause to honor my loved ones, past and present. Thank you for living. For loving. For fighting. For caring, sharing, and building. Your lives mattered. Your imprint remains. 

The Holy Trinity of Self-care

As I reflect, my thoughts turn to the Holy Trinity. Yes, Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. And, also to what I've come to call the holy trinity of self-care: mind, body, and spirit. 

This framing reminds me that care is not separate from faith; it is an expression of it. 

As a health and wellness coach and a fierce advocate for whole-body wellness and policies that support it, I am continually reminded that we are not separate from the divine. 

Scripture reminds us, "Don't you know that you yourselves are God's temple and that God's Spirit dwells in your midst?" (1 Corinthians 3:16).

Sustainable Leadership and Wellbeing

To be human is to carry both burden and beauty, along with the responsibility of stewardship, not perfection, but care. To care for our mental health, physical bodies, and spiritual alignment is not indulgent; it is sacred. 

Sacred Work

Care. Intention. Reverence for the bodies and lives we inhabit. If we truly believe that God lives within us, then tending to our mental health, physical well-being, and spiritual alignment is not optional; it is sacred work. 

Invitation

This year, I invite you to reconsider what self-care means for you. Not as a trend. Not as a luxury. But as an act of devotion to your calling, your community, and the life entrusted to you. Honor the temple. Tend the whole. And move forward with intention. 

If this resonates, I'd love to continue the conversation through writing, coaching, and community. 

With loving care,

Stacie J.

From Intention to Finish Line

The Journey of Miles, Milestones, and Memories Part IV

One Decision I Did Not Quit

On November 16, 2025, I joined a small global community: the 1% who have completed a marathon. 

I did not fully understand how powerful that moment would feel until I crossed the finish line. 

I kept going. I finished. I became a marathoner.

This was not just a test of endurance. It was a living, breathing lesson in commitment, self-trust, and follow-through. Below is how my marathon unfolded, mile by mile, and what each stretch of pavement taught me.

My Pace

• Mile 1: 13:13
• Mile 2: 13:38 
• Mile 3: 13:24 
• Mile 4: 13:30 
• Mile 5: 13:20 
• Mile 6: 13:50 
• Mile 7: 16:15 
• Mile 8: 13:40 
• Mile 9: 14:46 
• Mile 10: 16:00 
• Mile 11: 15:09 
• Mile 12: 15:07 
• Mile 13: 15:37 
• Mile 14: 17:04 
• Mile 15: 21:30 
• Mile 16: 16:25 
• Mile 17: 18:03 
• Mile 18: 19:11 
• Mile 19: 18:18 
• Mile 20: 17:50 
• Mile 21: 17:36 
• Mile 22: 17:01 
• Mile 23: 17:31 
• Mile 24: 15:50 
• Mile 25: 16:21 
• Mile 26: 14:37 

What the Marathon Taught Me

• I paced the early miles with discipline, not ego. 
• I met the wall and climbed over it. 
• I stayed consistent when comfort disappeared.
• I finished my final full mile faster than miles 14-23. 
• I completed my first marathon in 7:00:18, with an average pace of 16:03. 
• I started in Wave 7 at 7:24 AM and crossed the finish line at 2:34 PM: On time and on purpose. 
• Most importantly, I never quit on myself. 

This was more than a race. 

It was healing. It was discipline. It was my declaration that entering 50 would be intentional, grounded, and powerful. 

The Moments I Didn't Expect

• I stopped 3-4 times to use the restroom and released the need to rush. 
• I paused to check on other runners, offering encouragement, sharing Biofreeze, and teaching stretches.
• I experienced painful cramps between miles 15-17 and chose wisdom over force. 
• I danced Miles 18 and 19 because joy carried me when muscles could not.
• I climbed brutal hills between Miles 20-22 and did not stop. (Although I did question my decision-making skills and why I decided running a marathon was a good birthday gift idea).
• I refilled my water bottles at every hydration station, and my running belt definitely mattered.

These moments slowed my pace, but they strengthened my purpose. They made my finish richer, deeper, and more aligned with who I am. 

What Finishing Changed

This marathon was not about proving strength, winning, or being the fastest bunny on the trail (pun intended because we all know that story about the Tortoise and the Hare). It was about the honoring process. It was about listening to my body, trusting my preparation, and choosing perseverance again and again, long after the applause faded. 

• I finished what I started. 
• Not perfectly. 
• Not quickly. 
• But faithfully.

And here is what I know now:

• You do not have to be fast to be faithful.
• You do not have to be loud to be powerful. 
• You do not have to be fearless to finish, only willing. 

Whatever race you are running: physical, emotional, spiritual, or generational, commit to seeing it through. Pace yourself. Rest when needed. Ask for help. Offer help. Choose joy when the miles feel long. 

And when you reach your finish line, stand firmly in this truth:

• You kept going. 
• You finished. 
• You honored your word to yourself.

This is The Journey of Miles, Milestones, and Memories. 

And it is still unfolding. 

With joy, resolve, and a finishing spirit,

Stacie J. 

Mindset Shift

Choosing to Challenge Myself 

The Journey of Miles, Milestones, and Memories - Part III

A Golden Year Decision

Last year was my golden year. It was the year that I made radical decisions to meet this new season in my life with movement, courage, and curiosity rather than caution. 

Setting An Intention Bigger Than Fear

So I set an intention for 2025 that felt both bold and improbable, and that was to tackle three 5Ks, two 10Ks, and one marathon, with more than a decade from any previous running. It was not about proving anything to anyone else. It was about listening to the part of me that wanted to see what was possible when I stopped negotiating with fear and started honoring my capacity to grow. 

Training as Exploration, Not Punishment

I began training in the fall of 2024, not with rigid rules or punishment, but with exploration. Training became an invitation to move more, breathe deeper, and rebuild trust with my body. I registered for the She Power 10K in Chandler, Arizona, and suddenly the journey had a destination, but the real work was happening long before race day. 

Finding Strength Through Variety and Community

I had joined ClassPass and said yes to new experiences: yoga, barre, Pilates, cycling, kickboxing, HIIT, boxing. Each class taught me something different, not just about strength or endurance, but about rhythm, recovery, and resilience. I found spaces that felt like home, like Urban Yoga, Jabz Kickboxing, CycleBar, and Title I Boxing with Mr. Frazier. These were places where community mattered as much as performance.

Learning to Adjust Without Quitting

On days when motivation faded, I adjusted rather than quit. I walked indoors while watching my K-dramas because sometimes outdoors felt unreasonable, especially on 100+ degree days. I tracked my movement in ways that felt encouraging, not obsessive. Closing my rings, meeting my steps, and showing up became quiet promises I kept to myself. 

When the Shift Became Visible

Slowly, something shifted. 

My pace improved. My confidence followed. What once took nearly an hour per mile began to settle into something steadier, something stronger. I ran when I could with the Black AZ Run Club, and even when I wasn't consistent, I was inspired, especially by women my age reclaiming their speed, their stamina, and their joy. 

The She Power 10K: Testing the Edge

Then came January 26, 2025. The She Power 10K.

It was my first 10k EVER! I hadn't even completed an official 5K before, but something in me was ready to test the edge of what I believed I could do. The rules were clear: complete the first 5K in under 45 minutes to qualify to continue the full 10K. I started near the back of the pack, which meant I had to move with intention from the very beginning. 

I jogged.

I walked with purpose. 

I breathed through discomfort. 

I listened to my body and kept going. 

Witnessing Myself in Motion

This race was not about winning. It was about witnessing myself in motion; legs trembling, knee aching, spirit steady. It was about discovering that I could do hard things without rushing, without comparison, without abandoning myself in the process. 

A Mindset Shift That Reaches Beyond the Road

This was a mindset shift. Not just in running, but in life. 

The journey taught me that growth doesn't require perfection, only presence. That progress is often quiet. And that the most meaningful victories are the ones that change how you see yourself long after the finish line fades. 

Still Becoming

This is the heart of Miles, Milestones, and Memories: learning to enjoy the journey, honor the body you're in, and trust that every step, no matter the pace, counts!

And, I'm still just getting started. 

Mindfully, 

Stacie J. 

Eyes That See

There is no denying it, the world feels loud right now. 
Wars and rumors of wars. Political unrest and public unraveling.

Battles over land, power, resources, narratives. 
Families divided. Communities strained. Fear fed daily, hourly, endlessly. 

And, if this is all we see, exhaustion makes sense. 

But for those with eyes that see, all is not as it appears. 

Although the headlines shout conflict, monks continue to walk for peace. Mothers are still gathering in prayer. Fathers are still rising, quietly, steadily, into leadership and care. Strangers are still walking and running side by side, encouraging one another through breath, stride, and shared humanity. 

Love still stands. Peace still walks. Kindness still wins. 

These stories don't trend like the others. They don't incite outrage. They don't keep us scrolling. But they are no less real. 

We are being asked daily to choose what we consume, what we amplify, and what we allow to shape our inner world. 

Fear is loud, but it is not powerful on its own. It requires attention to survive. 

Love, on the other hand, is quieter. Like honey, it draws without force. As flies are drawn more readily to sweetness than vinegar, so too are hearts drawn to compassion, humility, and truth spoken with care. 

This is not a call to denial. It is a call to discernment. To look beyond the flames stoked for profit and control. To notice where peace is already at work. 

To participate, not in panic, but in presence. 

The call to action is simple, and yet profound:

See differently. Choose what you feed your spirit. Be a carrier of the very qualities you wish the world had more of. Because when enough of us decide to see, truly see, fear loses its grip. 

And what remains is the quiet, unshakable truth: Even now, especially now, love is still at work in the world. 

May you have eyes to see, and a heart open enough to change the narrative with love, despite the noise. 

With gentleness and love,

Stacie J.  

Before The Noise

The quiet ripple of peace

Last night, I slept. 

Peacefully, held by the distant thunder of fireworks and celebration. The sky spoke in bursts of color and sound, and at first, the dogs startled at every kaboom, their bodies tense with confusion. I drew them close, arms wrapping reassurance around their trembling frames. I whispered calm without words. Eventually, their breathing slowed. Mine did too. We slept. 

When I woke at 3 a.m., the house was still; sacred in its silence. The dogs lay tangled together, somehow curled and sprawled all at once, bellies exposed, paws twitching in dreams. I smiled. I gave thanks for their peace and recognized the quiet truth resting there with us: my calm had become their calm. My rest, their rest. Peace is contagious when it's embodied. 

I drifted back into sleep and woke again to morning light slipping softly through the cracks of the window; gentle, unannounced, patient. For a moment, instinct urged me to rise quickly, to move, to do. Then I remembered: how I begin matters. 

So I stayed still. 

One hand on my heart. One on my stomach. I checked in. I slowed my breath. I calmed my nervous system. I cleared the static of thought and gave thanks for this day, for their peace, for mine. I smiled toward heaven, grateful for being carried through 2025 and welcomed into 2026. Gratitude settled me into my body like an anchor. 

Then I rose and stepped into the world. 

My first run of the new year was unhurried and present. Each step met the earth with awareness. Each breath welcomed the air as if it were new. Scripture passed through my mind, not demanding attention, just offering companionship. I acknowledged it and kept moving. 

When my thoughts tried to rush ahead to lists, responsibilities, and expectations, I gently redirected them.

We move with grace. 
With calm.
With peace.
With ease. 

All is well. All unfolds in divine timing. There is nothing to chase. There is only this moment to inhabit fully, this breath, this body, this now. 

And that is how the year began. 

Let your presence be the atmosphere you carry. 
Let your peace lead your steps. 
Let your beginning be shaped with intention, gratitude, and God. 

Welcome to the first day of a new year!

With love, 

Stacie J.