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It’s done. Well, almost.

Affidavit for Decree without Appearance. That’s it’s formal name. The last form I had to file with the courts. My marriage is, and has been, but now officially is, over.

A mix of emotions is the slop I’ve been swimming in for the past few months. I mean, not that the last few years haven’t been a giant cess pool of emotions, but for sake of simplicity and knowing that there are more posts to come to address said emotions, I will limit to the previous past few moons.

There has been nothing “simple” about the emotional process of this. I was the vocal, moving force in this decision to divorce. Does this mean that I’ve been in bliss and joy the whole time? Not even a little bit. Sure, I know this is the right path, I know that this path saved my life, my spirit, my soul, my body. And, it’s been a tidal wave. And not just one big one that slaps you with momentum, leaving your bikini to abandon it’s true occupation and you looking like a birthed seal looking for land. Multiple.

Today is a deep, fairly calm pool of sadness. Sadness over the loss of something that was once the thing that gave me buoyancy and life. Sadness for what was unactualized. Sadness for a great Love that died over the years and left me to imagine its existence.

The turning of a tide starts today. I’m a big advocate of marking spaces in time. Celebrating the small things and large things. The tide is heading back out to sea today. Moving into the spaciousness and vastness of the ocean.

I want to find starfish and see coral reefs and play with sea turtles and touch a sea cucumber.

I’m headed out to sea.

I’ve fallen in love. With mountain biking. For some, that may sound like a badass endeavor, to others, no big thang. It’s a source of challenge and calm and meditation and adventure for me. It serves not only my body to “send it” but also my brain happens to be a much less scary place post ride.

I just got back to home base after spending the weekend at Phil’s World outside of Cortez, CO. It was 12 Hours of Mesa Verde this Mother’s Day weekend, a 12 hour race where you (or your team of 2, 3 or 4) see how many 17 mile laps you can pound out within the allotted time. This was my first ever race I attempted 3 years ago and holds a special place in my heart.

And folks, I crushed it. Goals for race day: #1: Have fun. Check. #2: Keep ‘er between the ditches. Mostly. Check. #3: Beat my PR from last year, 1hr 49min. CHECK! I killed it. I even had a “gentle endo” and still crossed the threshold at 1hr 42min!!

The real win for me is feeling my body and confidence soar as I continue biking. Honestly, one could swap out biking for anything really. It’s the witnessing myself becoming, molding my craft, in a state of growth. I’m now 41 and feel like a fine wine, just getting better and more complex and refined with age. It’s an amazing thing, the ability we have to grow and to witness that change.

I’m taking a breathe in of self acceptance and joy this morning. Feels good to be.

Another joy of the race was the camaraderie of those on the trail. Any time I passed someone on the trail who was pulled over I always asked if they needed anything (as I would hope people would do for me!). One younger girl responded while catching her breath, “I’m just slow!” Without hesitation, I replied, “You do you, girlfriend.” That is pretty much the equivalent of what what said to me by the mutants who passed me. Literally. Loved it.

Slow, fast, stopped, moving; We were all doing the thing. Pushing ourselves willingly to sharpen our skills, be better, do hard things.

Having these collective, shared experiences is a gift.