At 15, it was the Beastie Boys and gravel roads.

No trainer.
No plan.
No program to follow.

Just movement.

It started outside of town, dust in the air. A place called (Banana Belt - outside of High prairie!) music loud enough to drown out everything else. (my walkman - now you know my age!!) I didn’t know it then, but that movement became my mental anchor. When life felt confusing or heavy, my body knew what to do.

Move.

In my 20s, I graduated to actual gyms — from Spa Lady in Calgary (with my sister) to a little place in Lloydminster called Stress Busters (went with mom!). Those years were about diving in. Learning the mechanics. Understanding form. Figuring out what every intimidating piece of equipment actually did.

But what mattered most wasn’t the reps. It was this realization: The gym wasn’t for anyone else.

It wasn’t about how I looked walking out the door, or who was there, or what I was wearing.
It was about how I felt walking back into my own life.

I still train.
But the reason is different.

At 53, I look around and see how quickly people lose their strength. How stairs become hard. How long walks disappear. How “I used to” becomes the beginning of too many sentences.

I can’t control everything that might happen to me as I age — mentally or physically.

But I can control how I prepare.

I train because I want to move into my senior years with ease.

I want to:

Strength is freedom.
Mobility is independence.
Energy is possibility.

And I want all three.

I don’t punish myself.

If I’m sick, I rest.
If my energy is low, I adjust.
If I miss a day, I move on.

I don’t train out of guilt.
I train out of respect.

When you Choose Your Wild, you choose a lifestyle that sustains you — not one that drains you.

You choose strength because you love life, not because you hate your body.

If it doesn’t clear your head, you’re doing it wrong.

Movement should return you to yourself.

We train today so we can move tomorrow.

We lift so we can carry groceries at 75.
We squat so we can sustain balance for stairs or uneven paths
We stretch so we can bend toward adventure and not a rocking chair

Listen to your body.

It’s the only one you’ve got.

And if I’m lucky — and consistent — it will continue to carry me far beyond gravel roads and Beastie Boys.

These letters comes from an honest place - lessons learned, questions still unfolding, miles traveled, and the quiet wisdom that comes with aging.

I hope it gives you something to sit with…or something to move towards.

If you are walking your own road - imperfect, evolving awake - stay with me.

Choose Your Wild.

~Lana

Until next time :)