Every Monday, Wednesday and Friday I walk to 16th and Walnut. It doesn't matter if it's raining, snowing, sleeting, winding (that's what I call the Philadelphia–specific phenomenon when the wind blows hard enough to push you back a few steps physically and mentally). I put on a beanie, gloves, snow boots, whatever I need, and make my way downtown. 

Three days a week, I make my way to my yoga studio. Mat slung around my shoulder and water bottle clutched in a glove–covered hand, I walk the thirty–eight minutes (sometimes forty–five if I'm taking my time) down to Center City. 

I love yoga. It's been my main source of exercise for the past five years. It's the only workout during which I can clear my head, really and truly, and just focus at the task at hand. Once I finally found a studio I liked in Philadelphia, I decided to take the plunge and dedicate the two hours it takes to walk down, practice, and walk back—three days a week. I don't care if I could be more productive doing something else. I don't care if I have to wake up early to do it, or if it's a huge time investment. For two hours, all I have to do is block out the noise and focus on what my body can do and what it needs, and not what I have to do later. 

Self care is important, and it begins with acknowledging that you need it at all. Whether it's completely rebuilding yourself from the ground up (pg. 4), finding small ways to relax (pg. 9) or just stopping to smell the roses (pg. 16), take the time to take care of yourself. 


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