I sat the edge of the infinity pool watching the sun set along the Pacific Ocean. The golden sun looked like the one I've seen at home, but this time I was in Mexico, surrounded by seagulls and pelicans diving into the crystal blue water. It was January 1, 2015 and I felt the chance to start over, to make things right. I promised I'd treat myself with compassion when I needed it most.

A few days after my return home, I sat in my weekly cycle class, sweating to the sounds of thumping bass and quick beats. Ten minutes into the ride, a guy in the back of the class let out a whopping YEEEEAAAAAAH! Kind of like a scream, yelp, and cheer all at once.

Every 10 minutes, he'd shout again. After his fourth time, a girl got off her bike, walked over to him, and said something. He was quiet the remainder of class.
I didn't know what that girl said, but she made him stop…her words shut him up. And this infuriated me. Before I left, I walked up to the guy as he wiped sweat off his forehead, and said he shouldn't pay attention to what others say. It was his ride, no one else's. He smiled, I smiled, then I walked out the door.

However, I should have said more. I wanted to explain that I was recently reminded to stay the course. That it was okay to shout in moments of frustration, okay to cry, okay to make mistakes. That it was okay to be you, even if someone says otherwise.

I should have told him to keep riding, shouting, and letting the world know he was still there, pushing forward.