Bending without breaking

I bent, but I didn’t break. And that is something worth celebrating.

It’s been days, weeks, months of physical and emotional acrobatics. Dark nights, mornings that begin with uncertainty… moments that bent me, pushed me to the edge, but still didn’t break me.

I’m going to tell you my story, hoping you might see a bit of yourself in it. Recognize your own wins and losses, decide to make changes and adjustments, and remember that we can fall without getting used to staying on the ground.

Yesterday I ran the Rock and Roll Half Marathon in Washington, D.C. I finished almost 20 minutes faster than a year ago and 14 pounds lighter. With the medal in my hand, I let the tears flow—emotion, relief, satisfaction—thinking back to exactly a year ago, when I stood there with another medal and felt like a failure, completely broken, promising myself I would climb out of the hole I had dug for myself.

What changed?

That night I sat in front of the mirror and told myself the truth. I realized I was adrift, that if I kept going the way I was, a year later I wouldn’t even recognize my own reflection, and I decided to get help. I hadn’t been able to do it alone—I needed a team.

I started by finding Ashley, my coach, who has supported me through this weight loss journey and helped me finish my third marathon in record time. I committed to reading—about discipline, emotions, self-sabotage, how to choose myself and protect myself when things get hard. I changed the way I eat—I still slip sometimes—and I’ve made real efforts to prioritize rest and sleep.

Along the way, I also finished the first draft of my book. I worked on it with a colleague I absolutely adore, who helped me edit and refine it. I’m now in the process of finding a publisher. With the help of Laurita—another angel God placed in my path—I finally launched my heart project and made my first sales.

Reading back everything I just wrote, even I don’t fully understand why I’m not throwing a party. Once again, Cristina being Cristina, in my usual negative mode, subtracting instead of adding. Why can’t I just celebrate? Why can’t I just acknowledge what I’ve done?

Because life isn’t that simple. Because in the middle of all of this, it has also tested me with deep challenges and losses. Edwing López, my cameraman, my friend, passed away. That same month, I lost my shadow—Troy and Uma—my dogs, my constant companions. The emptiness they left behind isn’t easy to explain, and nothing really fills it. And still, I kept running, I kept getting up, sometimes dragging myself forward.

At work, we are in the middle of a war. While many self-help books tell you to step away from the news, I live in it. I breathe it, process it, tell it. I carry the responsibility of getting it right, of showing every angle, of not failing. And that weight is real. The late nights, the early mornings, the coverage that takes over everything—sometimes it wins over my training, over rest, over discipline.

And my hearts… I want to do more, be more consistent, create more. But the doubts show up: why didn’t I study this, why isn’t it growing faster, why is the book taking so long, or is it even good enough?

At home, there have been silences that lasted too long, hugs I still owe, affection I’ve held back. There have also been difficult moments, personal challenges I choose to keep private, but they’ve been there, taking away sleep, focus, and peace.

In other words, I’ve lived.

Between real achievements and battles still in progress—I won’t call them failures, I’m learning—life has bent me, forcing me to keep going, sometimes limping, sometimes exhausted, and always telling myself I could have done better, that I didn’t always show up the way I wanted to: not as fast, not as whole, not as strong.

Yes, I am quite mean to myself. I’m working on it, but the truth is, I kept going even on the days when all I wanted was to stay under the covers and leave everything for later.

And today I decided to tell you my story, to invite you to tell yours. To sit in front of your mirror and tell yourself the truth. Commit to changing what you want to change, ask for help if you need it, stand up even if you feel like you’ve fallen, and let go of what no longer works.

I’m sure that in the end, we’ll arrive at a shared conclusion.

I bent, but I didn’t break. And that is something worth celebrating.

¡Arriba corazones!