(Coach’s Corner)
 
36 Years Later
 
Thirty-six years.
 
I sat with that number this morning for a minute… because it doesn’t feel like a number you arrive at by accident.
 
It feels like something you live your way into.
 
Not perfectly.
Not always gracefully.
But honestly.
 
And if I’m really telling the truth, I don’t think what we’ve built over those years has much to do with “staying married” in the way people often think about it.
 
It has everything to do with learning how to stay present.
 
Through seasons that were easy.
And seasons that were anything but.
 
There were years where life felt light and expansive… where everything seemed to flow the way you hope it will when you first say “I do.”
 
And then there were years where the ground shifted.
 
Health scares.
Stress that didn’t clock out at the end of the day.
Moments where the version of life we thought we were building… quietly asked us to build something different.
 
And somewhere along the way, without really announcing itself, I started to understand something I wish more women were told earlier:
 
The quality of your relationships doesn’t just shape your life.
 
It shapes your body.
 
We spend so much time talking about what to eat… what to avoid… what supplement might finally be the one that makes everything click.
 
And I’m not dismissing any of that. You know I’m not.
 
But your body is always paying attention to something deeper than your plate.
 
It’s paying attention to your environment.
 
To the tone of your conversations.
To the energy in your home.
To whether you feel like you can exhale… or whether you’re constantly, quietly bracing.
 
And that bracing? It adds up.
 
You don’t always notice it in the moment.
But over time, it shows up.
 
It shows up in a nervous system that doesn’t quite settle.
In digestion that feels unpredictable.
In a kind of fatigue that doesn’t fully make sense on paper.
 
Because your body doesn’t separate “emotional stress” from “physical stress.”
 
It just responds.
 
And what I’ve come to appreciate—more now than ever—is what it feels like when that response softens.
 
When you’re in a relationship where you don’t have to perform to be accepted.
 
Where you can have a hard conversation and not feel like the ground is going to fall out from under you.
 
Where someone is willing to grow alongside you… not just stand next to you.
 
That doesn’t mean it’s easy.
It doesn’t mean you get it right all the time.
 
But there’s a steadiness to it.
 
A sense that you’re not carrying life alone.
And your body feels that.
 
It’s subtle, but it’s real.
 
It’s in the way your shoulders drop without you realizing it.
In the way your breath deepens when you’re not on edge.
In the way your system can finally shift out of survival mode and into something that actually allows for repair.
 
We don’t talk about that enough.
 
We talk about green juice and protein and steps and sleep scores…
 
But we don’t talk nearly enough about the people we share our lives with—and how those relationships are either supporting our health… or quietly working against it.
 
And this isn’t just about marriage.
 
It’s about friendships.
Family.
The conversations you have every day.
 
And maybe most importantly… the relationship you have with yourself.
 
Because if the voice in your own head is constantly pushing, correcting, criticizing…
 
Your body experiences that too.
 
Thirty-six years in, I don’t think love is about getting it ‘right’.
 
I think it’s about staying willing.
 
Willing to listen.
Willing to adjust.
Willing to come back to each other—and to yourself—when it would be easier not to.
 
And over time, that willingness creates something that feels a lot like safety.
 
And safety, as it turns out, is one of the most powerful things you can give a body that’s trying to heal.
 
So when we talk about longevity…
 
I think we need to widen the lens a little.
 
Yes, what you eat matters.
Yes, how you move matters.
Yes, supplements can move the needle.
 
But the conditions your body is living in?
 
Those matter just as much.
Maybe more.
 
And relationships—real, honest, evolving relationships—are a big part of those conditions.
 
Thirty-six years later… that’s what I’m celebrating.
 
Not perfection.
Not luck.
 
But the quiet, steady building of a life that, more often than not, lets us both breathe a little deeper.
 
And that… counts for more than most people realize.
 
 
Happy anniversary, Jerry.

♥️