Legacy.

It is hard to imagine the legacy you will leave when you are in it. Without hindsight it is next to impossible to understand the impact you have, how you will be remembered when you move on. The olympics always spark this idea in me. I believe that most athletes go into the games with the hopes of medals, personal bests, experiencing what it means to compete on the world stage. Few, I imagine, come into the games with the legacy in mind that they may leave beyond that. It might be years before Captain Sinclair truly understands the impact that she and other ladies will have on Canadian soccer. Memories of Bolt's epic victories will live on, remembered for games decades from now. Our 4x100 relay team leaves the legacy of sportsmanship, and the spark for the next group of young men to know they can compete with the fastest men on the planet. This is why we watch, not so much for the desire to know who won or lost, but for the stories, the impact, the greatness, the legacy.

It has been a year and half almost to the day that I stepped out of the life I thought would push me through my 20s. I was always aware of the legacy I wanted to leave when lululemon was no longer such a part of my life. When I left last February I thought that I had failed that legacy. That I had not lived up to what I had wanted to do there. Today I sat in the sun with 2 of my peers from my time there, two unbelievably talented and powerful women. They spoke to the legacy I left behind. A legacy that was still alive, still strong. Of young women who were taking on stores, who were still with the company, who were doing great things. This warmed my heart and re-instilled the understanding that everything we do can affect what we leave behind. That even when we think we have moved on, left, that our hard work, our good intentions live on.

Did I say too much, did I say enough

I would like to blame my restlessness and inability to find sleep on the fireworks lighting up the night sky hardly a kilometer from where I rest my head. I would like to blame it on the vivid colors I know are exploding over the water and the resulting pops that are almost like the thunderstorms of the praire only with the opposite effect. Sadly it is in part the feeling that I am beginning to recognize as normal. A hesitation that all the choices are the right ones, that the risk is worth it. That they are right. I brush it off during the day. More confident in my future, in my plans. More confident that playing big has paid off thus far and that not doing so has always left me feeling inauthentic and empty.

For some very human feeling the nights are harder, it's easier to question it all, harder to believe that all the pieces are going to fall in place. It's easier to feel alone in this city. Home feels farther away.

In certainty of a long day tomorrow and the uncertainty of " far down the line" I was thrown for a loop. I asked myself, Julia, do you want an adventure tonight or should you try to get some sleep? It seems, funny enough that I have picked neither. In part I believe it is the exhaustion of having to spend too many hours playing a part. I am energized by authenticity and drained by a lack of it. It is true, for those of you who don't know me, I will never be one who plays by all the rules. Tell me "what to do" and if your reason isn't good enough or there is no value in the process or practice for the sake of something good or beautiful, just in an end, I will likely smile, nod and go back to doing exactly what I was doing. It's not for disrespect but it is for a resistance and resilience against doing for the sake of single minded efficiency or streamlining. Sometimes the long way holds merit too.

My restlessness comes from more places than normal and that is it as well. I can't seem to find the calm I normally have. I am back to where I have been, craving more, chomping at the bit with little patience for the in between. It all is a little bit big these days. Life is on the brink of being "real" and for a girl raised on stretchy pants and fleeting crushes real life is both terrifying and spine tinglingly exciting. On one hand I am increasingly nervous I will never discover that niche in the world that is the centre of the venn diagram combining what I am great at, what I am passionate about, and what will pay the bills. I am also hesitant to put words down describing the aching fear that I will move across the country and failing to make a place there, come back west with tail between my legs to the place I started a little more than a year ago. On the other hand everything I've ever wanted is laid out before me, I just have to take the opportunities as just that and have faith that my luck has not run out, nor will it. I must stop thinking this could all be too good to be true.

I know there must be countless others, likely armchair dreamers like myself, who see their world in front of them and who are hesitant about the expectation that comes with taking that on. I'm not sure what little push shifts it into action I just know that sometimes writing it down makes the difference.