Some days I feel like Howl, running a floating house with mismatched parts and magical timing. This reflection is about freelancing, resting, showing up, and making it all move, even when nothing’s stable.

Not every celebration of freedom needs fireworks. On July 4th, we stood beneath the Korean Friendship Bell in San Pedro to hear its sacred sound. The bell was a gift from Korea, built with intention, cracked on its first ring, and cast again. Now, it rings in four frequencies and on this day, we rang it too.

The commercial divers exhibit at the Maritime Museum wasn’t just a display, it was a portal into a world of extraordinary strength, danger, and legacy. Seeing the gear they wore, the weights they carried, and the environments they worked in was humbling. It made me reflect on how the infrastructure we benefit from today was quite literally built under pressure.

These divers weren't just brave-they were foundational! Their contributions helped create underwater infrastructure that supports our daily lives. As a diver myself (nowhere near their level), I can only imagine the physical and mental strength it took to do what they did.

Their tools were heavy. Their risk was high. Their impact was lasting. And they reminded me: Work is honorable.

A quiet walk beneath the largest bell in Korean history. Reflections on legacy, presence, and how peace, like grief, like strength, can echo far beyond words.

While running through a quiet Griffith Park, Formie reflects on the emotional weight of recent ICE activity in Los Angeles. As a Mexican-American fitness coach, she shares how movement can be both a release and a form of resistance honoring community, grief, and strength.

I didn’t shrink, I compressed. I folded my fire to fit into spaces where people couldn’t handle heat. But this isn’t the season for explaining who I am. It’s the season for embodying it fully, unapologetically, and in motion.

A reflection on the slow but powerful journey of changing your life through movement. This journal entry shares three rules that have helped her keep walking with intention, belief, and fire.

We visited the Mulholland Scenic Overlook on a grey LA day, and in the quiet, I almost missed the Hollywood sign, until I took a second look. Today’s movement wasn’t about distance; it was about clarity, contribution, and the magic you only notice when you pause.

The city feels heavy. The air, the ground, the tension, it’s all rising. This post isn’t reaction. It’s rhythm. For anyone in L.A., or anywhere that feels like it, this is your reminder: We don’t move in chaos. We move like thunder.

A walk through Silver Lake Reservoir reminded me that presence is power. From the open meadow to a quiet prayer box asking, “What are you thankful for?”, I moved slow, head down, heart open and I wrote one word: movement.

THE SLOW BURN

The universe gives the builders, the visionaries, the ones with unshakable core light the slowest burn sometimes because your rise isn’t just for you. You’re not supposed to peak in a place where everyone still wants you small.

I landed in fight position and never really left it. But now I understand the kind of fighter I am strategic, soulful, built to endure. This journey isn’t about whether it’s fair or easy. It’s about getting up and walking forward anyway.

For everyone in a profession of service ..for the teachers, the healers, the caregivers, the protectors ,this is your reminder: the fire is real. The call is real. And we are nowhere near done.

Today’s stride took me through LA’s past. The Old Zoo Trail in Griffith Park winds through abandoned enclosures, graffiti-covered structures, and hillside views of the city. Eerie but beloved, this hike is a strange and special piece of Los Angeles history and I walked it wearing my Hollywood cap, soaking it all in.

They thought I was done. But I’ve just been stacking.
This post is about moving through the quiet seasons with fire for every underestimated moment, every fake connection, every version of me that wanted to quit. I don’t move for claps. I move because the real ones don’t stop.

I didn’t make my 7am trail plan, but I still showed up and moved and that shifted my whole day. All that’s required is to show up and move.

Neil Armstrong. A statue. A reminder.

I stood in front of the Neil Armstrong statue at USC and felt something shift. He trained not just for a mission, but for the unknown. That kind of discipline and vision? That’s what FormaFit is about.

USC will be one of the Olympic Villages in 2028, where athletes will prepare, sweat, and focus just steps away from where that statue stands.

This isn’t just a post about a campus or a moonwalker.
It’s about training with purpose, moving with intention, and staying ready for the extraordinary.

Read how this moment ties into FormaFit’s mindset and the road I’m walking toward LA 2028.