A running start to living LYMI

When I wrote about what my next leap would be in February of this year, I was at a crossroads in my mind, in my heart, and in my to-do list.

At a time of year when many of us are starting a new routine, or starting over, the following is an update from Jenna Sauber on her leap to live #likeyoumeanit.

I had finally come to a point where I fully recognized that I was single again, I was an outsider looking in as my parents moved across the country from the state we had lived in since I was seven years old, and I was intent on transitioning to the next chapter in my career.

What I knew was that my next leap was no longer as clear as I had once thought it was, and I was okay with that. My next leap was undetermined, but coming.

Six months later, I've gotten a running start on my next leap...or for me, a series of small leaps.

In April, I ran the Cherry Blossom 10-miler, my longest race yet. In May, I went on a Gap Adventures tour in Costa Rica, meeting 14 other young people and had the time of my life, zip-lining above tropical forests, rappelling over waterfalls, and surfing for the first time. I made a few good friends out of it, and two of them are even visiting me in a couple of weeks. During that same week, my parents had to put my dog Harrison down, all the way out in San Diego. Although I knew it had been coming, it was devastating to accept that he and Casey, my brothers through my teen years, were both gone.

Earlier this summer, I began taking yoga classes, a calming and healing practice for my often-stressed mind and body. I've been on really great dates, and some average ones. A month ago, I left my job at an international development nonprofit after three and a half years, and began a new job at a foundation devoted to technology and innovation for good.

So in all of this, you may ask, where's the leap? Where's the big adventure, the big risk?

I realized recently that almost every day for me is a leap, a risk.

Every day that I wake up and face the world and its challenge and opportunities, and every day that I go to bed, reminding myself that I am loved and that I'm healthy and fortunate, that is a leap.

Speaking to my parents about my fears, telling my new boss my plan, asking a friend to listen - those are all leaps, all risks in my life.

Most people see me as a confident, independent, outgoing woman, with plans and lots of friends, and everything to be happy for. But when I'm alone, when I'm thinking about the years ahead or even next week, I'm not quite who they all see.

I can be co-dependent, I can be afraid, I can be lonely. I worry about if the steps I'm taking are the "right" ones, if my friends will all disappear into the wind one day, if I will be alone.

I still think about what the big leap will be. It will likely involve a move from DC, a full career change, maybe a new relationship.

But for now, I'll cherish the little leaps, because each one of those gets me to where I'm going, too, on my own timeline.