Reflections on pain, presence, and the YES that carried me forward.

Earlier this summer, I completed the hardest physical challenge of my life — a 130-mile, 4-day endurance ruck known simply as “The Finishers Challenge.” Twenty-nine of us stepped off together, each carrying 15% of our body weight in our packs. Ten of us finished.

I was one of them.

And somehow, in the middle of all the blistering pain and mental chaos, I found peace. I experienced samadhi — the kind of integration that yoga has been pointing me toward for decades. Samadhi is the ultimate state of presence in the yogic path — where the mind quiets, the ego dissolves, and you become one with the moment itself. It’s not about floating away or reaching some far-off enlightenment. It’s about arriving fully. Right here. Right now. As the Yoga Sutras say, “When the mind becomes still, the seer rests in their true nature.” (Sutra 1.3)
 But I didn’t find it in a cave, on a mountaintop, or in a quiet studio…
 I found it after 100+ miles, with wet socks, an aching knee, a sandbag on my back, and a heart cracked wide open.

Day One: The Invitation

We arrived at Why Me — a nonprofit serving families navigating pediatric cancer — at 4:30 am. The energy was electric. We were each called individually to step off into the unknown. No one knew the course. We were given a postcard with a QR code revealing our 28.8-mile route, and our first introduction to the child whose journey we would follow throughout the challenge.

The miles passed with the help of a good friend and deep conversation. We talked about grief, business transitions, relationships that were loving but unsustainable, solo parenting, financial strain, and all the quiet ways we carry pain. We laughed. We climbed. We supported one another. We showed up fully.

At mile 20, we were handed a sandbag equal to 10% of our body weight and told to hike up Mount Wachusett — no putting it down. It symbolized the beginning of chemo treatment. Before this challenge, we read about this child’s first day in the hospital. I could not back down knowing what she went through.

The last few miles were train tracks. Unstable, unforgiving, impossible to find a rhythm. That night we camped in wind and noise and cold. I slept 3 hours. And somehow, that was enough.

Day Two: The Discomfort

We started the day by dumping out our entire packs and repacking on command. The route? 30.5 miles.

About six miles in, we hit our first challenge station: fully submerge in river water with shoes and clothes on, then keep walking. It was meant to simulate the discomfort and unpredictability of treatment. We weren’t allowed to change until we were out of view. I walked, chafing and soaked, alone for much of the day.

At mile 24, a decision: continue the route (with only 2 hours to finish) or wait 30 minutes for an unknown — possibly shorter — course. I chose to wait. My new route was only slightly shorter and a (mostly) gradual uphill the entire time.

I arrived at the finish at 5:20 pm in a daze. My feet were raw. My mind was numb. But my spirit? Alive.

Day Three: The Surrender

This was the make-or-break day. We were woken up at 2:30 am. Step-off had to happen by 3:30 or you were disqualified. The route? Forty-five miles. We had until midnight.

Around mile 5, another water crossing. I was wet, cold, covered in bugs, and alone for most of the remaining 40 miles. Midday, I hit my wall. I hadn’t eaten enough, hadn’t hydrated enough, and was spiraling mentally. I dropped my pack, sat on the side of the trail, and asked myself:

Can I take one more step?

That question saved me. It brought me back into the now.

From that moment on, I wasn’t walking as Jess anymore. I was walking as something bigger. I accessed every tool I’ve ever taught or learned:

  • Breath of Fire when I needed power.

  • Sitali Breath when I needed to cool down.

  • Ujjayi Breath when I needed to regulate.

  • Barre-trained joint strength.

  • Foot awareness from barefoot workouts.

  • Kundalini kriyas that taught me how to keep going when I wanted to stop.

Every step became a silent mantra:
 YES.
 Yes to pain.
 Yes to presence.
 Yes to purpose.
 Yes to not knowing.
 Yes to THIS moment.
 This was samadhi. Not escape, but union — body, breath, heart, and spirit. I arrived at the finish at 9:20 pm, changed forever.

Day Four: The Gift

I woke up unsure if I could move. My knee was screaming, but my spirit said try. I taped it up, grabbed borrowed trekking poles, and stepped off for the final 25 miles.

This day was quieter, more internal. I ran into friends on the trail and smiled at each aid station like I’d just been handed a love letter. With every step, I knew:
 I’m going to finish.

At 3:20 pm, I crossed the final line. My son Nolan was waiting for me. I learned that the child whose journey we had been following was now cancer-free. I wept.

What Got Me Through:

  • A lifelong yoga practice

  • Weekly barre classes (barefoot, of course)

  • My morning sadhana, where I’ve made peace with my shadows

  • Deep breathwork, joint strength, and mindfulness

  • Facing hard things in my life with an open heart

  • The willingness to say YES

  • Remembering my spirit guides are always with me

What Comes Next

This experience cracked something open in me. And in September, I’ll be sharing everything I used to get through the ruck in a new coaching program that combines yoga, mindset, strength, breathwork, and embodiment.

You won’t need to walk 130 miles.
 But if you’ve got something hard to face — change, grief, transition, uncertainty — I want to walk beside you.

More details soon…

And if you’re curious, stay tuned. I’ll be sharing more articles about the breathwork techniques that carried me, why I trained the way I did, and how you can walk with me through this story — to feel the weight, the emotional toll, and the complete mindf*ck of this experience.

Until then, take a deep breath.

And say YES to whatever step is in front of you today.

xo,
 Jess