4 Things I’m bad at.

  1. Waking up before 6:00 a.m.
    1. 6:01 a.m. with the smell of coffee brewing and I’m unstoppable.
  2. Saying “no” to:
    1. Food of any kind. Don’t put it near me, I will devour it all. Sayonara honey mustard and onion pretzels. Hello stinky breath.
    2. Work, in any capacity.
    3. Friends. I just love their faces so much that I tend to forget about the fact that occasionally the energy is lacking and grandma needs some sleep.
  3. Saying “yes” to
    1. Me time- Getting my nails done, treating myself in any capacity. I have fallen off the damn rails in 2017.
    2. My mom- Hi! I love you- I’m still here. Keep checking my blog for updates. Kidding- we talk every day, but seeing your mom is always something special. Time should always be made for family.
  4. Putting my sneakers on.
    1. Unrelated to the fact that I choose bunny ears as my main source of lace tying.

And it’s not that I’m worse than most- The challenge I associate with making multiple trips to the car, the whimsical voice that sings in my ear and says, “you’re being good…it’s froyo- add the brownies and the snickers. ADD THEM!” These are the feels that internet memes find their base in.

This is why I understand the struggle for many when it comes to making the best choices for ourselves. Because I’m no better at making them for myself- despite having a blog in which I advocate for being a better version of myself. Because on some days I am, but on some days I’m not, and on many days I’m just trying to put my sneakers on. Or I’m pretending like I can’t find them. Even though they are clearly on a shoe rack in my closest.

We are all the same. Hoomans!

And finally, it’s not that I’m only bad at 4 things. I’m just bad at making a list that exceeds 4 points. The type-A person in me is suffering over the fact that I couldn’t muster a fifth point. But here’s where I’m at my fellow humans- let’s cut ourselves a break. Let’s pat ourselves on our back for our efforts. Let’s get better at saying “no” when it’s right, and stronger at saying “yes” when it’s essential. Yes?

Peace and Love xx

Daily Post: Why, Thank You?

What’s the best (or rather, worst) backhanded compliment you’ve ever received? If you can’t think of any — when’s the last time someone paid you a compliment you didn’t actually deserve?

Back handed compliments never fall short in this world, but rather than focusing on the negative I would like to discuss compliments. Obviously. Compliments are the best.

After starting this blog I would get the occasional “you just have it all figured out” as though to suggest just that… I had my life figured out. They would then take it further to state that they did not as though to ask me the greatest question of all: HOW? The craziest part about this situation is that it happened more than once. Each time someone would discuss the life I posted on the internet, I wondered what I was projecting that someone would assume that I solved a piece of life’s puzzle. It felt odd because I often felt as though I had so much to resolve within my own life. The truth is, we all want to figure “it” out and find ourselves, or discover what creates a greater meaning for us in this world. But who has any of these things really figured it? Deepak Chopra?! Certainly not me.

So while it has been exceptionally flattering that people think because I am self-reflective in a public forum that this living this is so easy it’s for the birds, it’s not. I’m just soaking up this world too. And since I have zero insight to provide you with, I’ll leave you with my boy, Deepak.





Why, Thank You? | The Daily Post

It’s been a year?!

I missed my blogiversary – Meaning, I completely overlooked the year I’ve spent writing, running, yoga-ing… Recreating my understanding of myself. Ay-yay-yay! Have I stopped caring about my paperless child?!


But in one year I’ve come so full circle that this blog has taken a back seat in my life. I don’t know how I feel about that- 49% of me loves forgetting to write. I hate to say it, but it became a chore. I lost my drive and desire (and honestly maybe my ability) to casually write. 51% of me thought, shit. I deserve to celebrate this year long process. For me.

What’s it like to write about your life for a year? In this year people have scoffed at my blog and in my insecurities I lost a bit of my desire to write- this is my own flaw, my inability to stop caring about what others think. I’m aware. But I’ve also had people I admire thank me for blogging. In some way I connected to a part of them- whether it was an email I received from an old friend saying they feel like they can run because of me, or a person I bumped into running on the boardwalk. One of my favorite emails was from a stranger thanking me for writing about rhinoplasty. Because why not let it all hang out. John joined in on my running bandwagon as well. And in this year a guy who never ran more than a mile would become one of my biggest inspirations in the process. Blogging is nothing more than making connections and so many have been made. Underneath all of our differences we share so many similarities.

So let me say: I’m human. And in 365 days, 52 weeks, 12 months… I have done wonderful things for myself that have helped to inspire myself, and I have let things slip. I’ve run 8 miles, and I have also felt as though – today, I just can’t go past two. I have probably done 50 miles in a month and said who needs two more, no one has to know. I have unintentionally lost ten pounds and dropped a pant size and then I unintentionally gained ten pounds and went up a dress size. Like I said, I’m a human. And a female with a booty.

Throughout the year, one of my favorite parts about using wordpress is seeing how people find my blog. So thank you for searching for:






You searched: I’m calling bull on lupus AND then you found my blog. Or, sexy boob images… None of those on here. Sorry. Someone just searched Jews. Present! Or my personal favorite… Beyoncé body odor. Shut up. She has none.

And this is why 51% of me loves this. So thank you for a great year and for stopping by and reading about lupus and life.


And what happens if you aren’t able to run the race?

Well, that won’t happen. 

But, Talia, what if it does?

It won’t. Failure is not an option for me. 

This was a conversation I had five months ago- a friend, knowing how dedicated I was, wanted to know how I would deal if my dreams never came into fruition. I wasn’t trying to sound arrogant, I was simply so damn adamant and sure of myself when those words graced my tongue. Why wouldn’t I be? I was training, putting in the time, and the work necessary to run 13.1 miles. I was also mentally dedicated and set on that feeling of accomplishment that I would feel in knowing that one year earlier I was unable to leave my couch due to a lupus flare. I guess that’s why I didn’t think twice when I said- that won’t happen.

But with a mere two days before the half marathon, I have come to the reality that- the race won’t happen. It can’t happen. So when do you allow yourself to embrace a failure, and view it not as much as a failure, but solely a setback in your ultimate goals. 

I will tell you now that this wasn’t a rash decision. It was something I have been sitting on since right before Mexico. The dull pain returned in my left knee and it refused to go home. I tried to limit my running, increase yoga, decrease yoga, decrease running, ice it, heat it, icy-hot it, anything-it. I was angry and I felt defeated, hence my lack of writing. It left me with nothing nice to say so I decided to say nothing at all. Though I continued to run, the passion and excitement I felt when I found success in running was waning. I felt so close to my goals, but I recognized that obtaining my goal of a half-marathon would ultimately be a setback. Sure, I could do 13.1 miles, but I could feel that it would hinder my progress in the long run. As a lupus warrior I knew what I had to do – listen to your body.

(Sing to the tone of Bump and Grind):

My body, my body was telling me nooo, but my mind, my mind’s telling me yaaassss!  

Well, mind, sometimes you aren’t as smart as my body. As I sat in defeat, near tears, and feeling like a total failure, John reminded me about a little story starring an ocean goddess by the name of Diana Nyad. In 2013, Queen Nyad, as I will now and forever refer to her as, became the first person confirmed to swim 110 miles, from Havana to Key West. And she did it at the age of 64. And she did it on her fifth try. Not her first, second, third, or fourth. But she was never deterred from her ultimate goal. Granted, the Queen herself was swimming 10x the amount I was planning on running, but what remained with me was this notion that she wasn’t discouraged from achieving what she set out to accomplish. Despite box jellyfish stings, sharks, and asthma attacks, she persevered. Initially, I felt discouraged for her, I couldn’t fathom the work she put in and that feeling of defeat. But now I see.

It is possible for failure to be an option. When we allow failure to become an option, sometimes we open ourselves up to greater experiences. Will my “victory” in running a half-marathon one day taste that much sweeter? Maybe. Maybe not. I can only say that I now can embrace what won’t be and do so gracefully. On Sunday I will be running my first 10K, and I’m thrilled. 


She’s so annoying, no one cares that you went to the gym.

That may or may not be a direct quote from me circa 2012. I used to drink the haterade- my favorite flavor was Too-Cool for the gym blue. I made that flavor up guys, it’s not real. But I was a hater, that is highly truthful.

I’ll give you a classic example. John and I just became friends and we decided to make our relationship more official so we added each other on Facebook. One day a post appeared on my newsfeed:

John (the guy you will date in the future): going to the gym

I see this and I take a sip from the tall glass sitting next to me – of haterade.

I should reply to John

Talia: No one cares.

Yes, I did that! Today I can say that I am mortified that I thought that was acceptable. In all reality it was a very pathetic attempt at flirtation via Facebook. Which is mortifying enough. But who do I think I am that I can take my time to criticize his choice to better himself? To add insult to injury, I actually think I even wrote I’m eating ice cream and sitting on my couch.

I don’t think I’m alone in hating on gym goers. On the list of annoying people of Facebook, courtesy of Huffington Post, the “bragger” makes the list at número 7. HuffoPo: Annoying People on Facebook


My question is, now that I’m an annoying person on Facebook, why do we find this individual so irritating?

I began to reflect on my own disdain for this person. It has a similar annoyance to the cute couple on Facebook. Now, the interesting thing that I’ve learned is this. When I’m happy, and I’m in love, that couple is the cutest thing I have ever seen. Cute on the scale of puppies playing in snow for the first time. But if I’m single, or John and I got into a tif, eye roll. Please. Get a grip. Or a room. This is a public sphere.

It’s haterade. And we all drink it.

When I decided to change my life and hit the gym instead of the fridge every time I got slightly bored, I was proud. I wanted to shout it from the rooftops. I also needed to be inspired and I needed to be held accountable. I found that forum through blogging. I figured it would be a good outlet for me, but I also realized that some people would find me insanely obnoxious. Ultimately I decided that I was ok with that. Today when I see someone post of Facebook about a great workout I feel a sense of comradery. I want to high five them because it is a choice and it isn’t the easiest one to make.

I’m so over the haterade. It’s disgusting. For now I’m sticking to water. And coffee. And maybe some adult beverages. On that note, I’m going to the gym. Drink that.

I would love to know your thoughts on this- are there any Facebook people that drive you crazy?!

Alive at Five

After a lovely and festive week with family and friends, I woke up yesterday and appeared to be “expecting” my first little food baby. If you have never heard of a food baby please follow this like right here to this totally accurate and real definition.

I find it extraordinarily simple to get stuck in a couch rut. You’ve been there, you’re no better! You sit down, hours go by, the gym sneakers by the door are giving you looks like you’re lazy, but you don’t care because Real Housewives is hilarious. That was about to be me yesterday, but then I looked at my Nike Fuel band. That little bugger calculates your daily movement.

It knows when you’ve been lazy
It knows when you’ve been fit
It knows when you’ve been good or bad
So get your ass to the gym and move around a bit

Also, I love new toys, so it seemed essential that I get in action for the day.

So I get to the gym and I just had this feeling. Today is the day I’m running five straight miles. This was a goal I created for myself when December began, I knew I wanted to hit 5 before 2014. I know to some that seems minuscule, but for me, that’s a possible life or death scenario. Remember that 5k I did in November for my birthday- the zombie run. Well, I died in it. The zombies got me on mile 2. Had I been able to run 5 consecutive miles, maybe I would have survived. Now I’m daydreaming about running from zombies, and bears in the woods, I’m very imaginative, and my best songs are playing into my headphones and I’m doing it. I pass 3 which has become my new standard. I get to 4. Then I’m thinking to myself, a mile is nothing. And I’m there!

My first five miles in 47:29.

I’m surrounded by people in a packed gym taking selfies like a weirdo. Just a girl and her treadmill. And for now five is alright and I’m pumped to go for six. I just need to be able to walk right first- holy soreness! Happy Saturday loves!

Decisions, Decisions

What do you do when you made a blog about running 52 miles per month and then attain that goal? 

I’ll tell you the advice I would give to anyone: Feel satisfied, and continue to feel content with the fact that you set out a mission and now, can not only accomplish it, but regularly hit that mark.

This is the advice I should really be giving myself. Or some kind of mirror mantra talk a la little girl in the mirror:

Instead of embracing achievement and enjoying success, I usually see that there’s always more that can be done. I’m not sure if this is a strength or a weakness. 

Well this week, I got a message from a friend asking me to do a half marathon in May. This is the second time I’ve been asked to do a half marathon by a running friend. They see I can suddenly run two miles and think I can be sucked into more running. The first time I was asked I laughed and then said nothing at all. She has not asked me about it again since. That was months ago. Well, now I have a little more experience under my belt and I’m feeling good with my regular three mile thing, I have even floated the idea around of doing a 10K. So, why then, when I was asked to partake in the half, did my three-mile safety-net of a cocoon get shaken up and unraveled?! I thought about it for a few hours and messaged her back:

Let me think about it.

That was my exact response.

This weekend I spent a lot of time doing as I said I would – thinking about my running future. Thinking things such as: at this point the most I’ve run is 4 miles… brain doubles the number- so double the most I’ve done and it’s still less than a half marathon. And I realized something when I began to do math, because I hate math, I’m self sabotaging before I even attempt to try. I want to do the half marathon but my fears are real. Fears like, am I pushing myself too much too soon? What if I have a flare because I’m putting too much stress on my body, can I physically handle this? Can I mentally handle it? I think I can. In my three months of running I have done more than I knew was possible. So what’s holding me back other than my own insecurities? I would also like to thank quite a few blogs that I perused through for inspiration- many of you set your sights on anything from a 5K to a marathon to ultra running (which I will never ever do) – You guys are phenomenal humans.

So what conclusion have I arrived to on this half marathon debate?

I’m in. I’m going to begin training for a half marathon.

Starting… Now!

Eating Like a Cow

I have, at times in my life, cared both a lot and a little about the size of my pantaloons and the numbers on a scale.

In 2007 I worked at a chain restaurant and began to eat all of their delicious foods. For every meal. Gradually I came to the realization that it is not practical, nor acceptable, to eat burgers for nearly every meal. I decided to become a gym rat for the summer, and in reality, cared too much about getting back to my pre-processed foods bod. I got obsessive to the point that if the number didn’t satisfy, it could ruin my entire day. I counted my calories, which isn’t a bad thing if it’s done right, but a terrible thing when it’s done in order to quickly lose weight. And as people noticed that I was losing weight, I grew more concerned with what I was eating.

If I eat a yogurt for breakfast, half of a sandwich for lunch, and a soup for dinner and work out, I can lose…

After receiving real, and concerned, criticism from friends, because that’s what friends do- they call you out on your crazy, I got my head straight. I never wanted to do that again, and my fear of getting like that is probably what made me spin in the opposite direction. I became a crusader for eating right (right in my mind was saying no to a side of french fries with my lunch wrap) and I never weighed myself.

The scale is the debil.

As years have passed coughsixcough my 20 year old metabolism that I took for granted dissipated as well. Toodle-loo-kangaroo. I also got a real job and lost the ability to do nothing all day and claim that it’s acceptable because it’s college. By this year my body was all out of wack, my skin did not look healthy, and I just knew I didn’t feel right.

So what did the scale say?

I didn’t want to get on the scale- I refused. And then it happened. The day I went to the doctors appointment that told me my lupus was no longer in remission. I was at my heaviest weight. It all became real in that moment that I needed to get my priorities straight. There were too many extremes in my life. I decided to reclaim my body, and not for a number on a scale, or how I wanted to look. I decided to workout for my health. This was the first time in my life I was working out for that reason alone.

Last month, after six months of working out I stepped on the scale. It was the first time I had been curious to see my weight. I had lost ten pounds. And it was the first time in my life that I did not have a goal in mind. I was just feeling good. My knees no longer hurt, I had more energy, I was walking a little taller and I was feeling stronger. I felt proud, and I felt no anxiety associated with a number.

Today I am a pseudo health pretender. Naturally, I have always had an interest in healthy eating and healthier options. I was always a skim milk kind of girl. I loathe (that’s how much*) aspartame. I rather just skip sugar than ingest any artificial sweeteners. I don’t drink soda or juices. This is just how I operate. However, my affinity for healthy options is often at war with my better half- the bacon cheeseburger and a side of french fries with the perfect seasonal beer, please!  side.

And guess what, I eat it.

I will eat the whole damn cheeseburger and I will enjoy it. And I am happy. I have struck some kind of balance in my life. If we are continuously searching for a magical number or a size to find happiness we will always struggle to be happy. What is it that you truly want? Once I recognized that I wanted to be healthy and balanced I found what I was looking for. And I am not perfect, I am far from it, but this mission for inner peace with all things in life is taking me places I didn’t know I could find.