I’ve driven through this neighborhood a million times. I’ve walked every street. I’ve biked every hill. I’ve created my own fake news as I pretended to be a resident, running sprints and doing ladder drills with my son as if we lived here. We didn’t. We drove, parked and played. I confidently waved to neighbors – pretending, wishing, wanting, hoping and dreaming. On my happiest days, I ended up here. On my hardest days, the force to be here was even stronger. I coached myself through COVID-19 up and down these streets and found the inspiration I needed to continue with clarity and purpose. This neighborhood kept me grounded and reminded me to keep my chin up, heart first and standards high. I felt the weight of the unknown and the demands of the business hang heavy, but I walked until I only felt my own strength. The views became my motivation and inspiration. Nature was all around me. Mature trees, rolling hills, green grass. Every home was unique and full of character. 

In 20-degree weather, I still walked. In 90-degree weather, I ran. It felt serene here. It was an energy, a feeling and a vision that was crystal clear.

Someday, I was going to live here.

I wanted a home that I loved so much, I wouldn’t be able to keep it all to myself. I wanted to tap into my childhood roots of pure chaos and noise and have a space that offered just that (poor Ted). I wanted a home for celebrations and traditions. A home to slow us down. I wanted a home that would bring people together in new and stronger ways – starting with my own family. I wanted a home where I could host my team as a symbol and expression of my gratitude. 

Ted calls me a stalker. He’s not wrong, but if the police knock on my door, let’s be clear that I’ve hurt no one in process of manifesting my own dreams. I’ve begged, bartered and negotiated to squeeze in neighborhood drive-bys on our family outings. “It’ll take just five minutes! Turn left, turn left!!!!” The inner child in me was itching to get my way. My kids became conditioned to expect my drive-by requests. They started to dream right alongside me. Ted would gently hit the brakes to take in the views; he was starting to fall in love, too. I would make everybody be quiet and roll down their windows. Radio off. The sound of nature and solitude outside was too special to drown out with Run DMC, although, tempting. I wanted everyone to be fully present. To feel what I felt. Peace.  

In October 2018, I was invited to a lululemon event. I practiced yoga in the driveway of a home that overlooked pure beauty. Everything was meticulously maintained, and the trees were tall and healthy. The grass was greener, here…literally. The rolling hills were in all directions and created so much depth and scenic interest. I was in awe of my surroundings and thought to myself, “Someday, I’m going to live here, too.” 

Today, I live ten doors down from that home. lululemon gave me the opportunity to dream bigger than I ever would have, and time gave me the opportunity to visualize it to life. I have more yard for my kids to play, and outdoors to be explored. There’s a giant hill that we can sled down and a fire pit to make s’mores. I have space to bring people together. I even have a family of deer that my untrained puppy darts after which typically leaves me trespassing in neighbor’s yards panting for air. I’ve been able to meet new neighbors this way. There’s a hummingbird that visits often and a cardinal that reminds me of my mom. I’ve seen a groundhog gnaw at my pretty flowers, and I even found a bat in Ted’s office one time. I could have done without that one.  

Every morning, I look forward to opening my shutters. They are old and worn. The paint is chipping, and a few cobwebs linger. I like it that way. It’s cozy and comforting. I wait until the sun rises when I open then, and I pause to absorb my life. “I can’t believe I live here,” I whisper to myself. Ted’s office is just feet away and he witnesses this every morning. He shakes his head and smiles.  

There’s a new energy within me that is fully awake yet calming. This home is far more than four walls and a roof. It was never a “thing” to chase. I reminded my children time and time again; we’ll still feel sadness at times, and you’ll still hate your chores. This is about longevity. Roots. It’s a leap of faith to St. Louis that guided us to where we belonged all along. It’s a space where we finally feel home.  

When we were living in Charlotte, North Carolina, we learned Ted’s mom was terminally ill. Ten days later, we traded in our trendy townhouse for a suburban home that offered a main floor bedroom. Her final days were spent by our side and in total comfort. We bought our next home under different distress. I moved to St. Louis solo to minimally disrupt our family for our first gym opening. After five months of hotel living, we all became desperate to share a roof again. “Just sell the house in North Carolina and get here,” I said. We landed a house that could accommodate my brother-in-law who was re-locating with us. After hosting a holiday party for my team of 20 in 2018, I knew we had already outgrown this home. It was a bust, but I tried. We were sandwiched between walls and pushing capacity, although we were fortunate to live there, too.  

Each of our homes have served us well and an important purpose. But our new home – it’s different. We chose this home for each of us, on our own time, and under our own circumstances. We are three months down, and a million memories to go. 

There was a time when Ted and I struggled to maintain harmony in our marriage and he looked at me and said, “We’re never going to make it there, Chelsea.” He believed it and based on the sadness and truth in his eyes, I believed it, too. But we did. We made it here, together. Stronger.  

Last Sunday, I hosted my first Burn STL-team wide party at our new home. 69 adults. 55 kids. My heart was exploding. Kids were running down hills, playing in water and bouncing in the front yard. Parents were relaxed, present and content. But I was the happiest of them all.  

This party was planned long before we became the keeper of the keys to this home. Through my walks, bike rides, drive-bys and all the time in between, the picture had been painted.  

To my team – thank you. Loving on you is easy to do and your presence proved the power of visualization and gratitude. What you see, you create. What you cherish, you protect. May my appreciation for each of you always be known and closely kept. 

Until next party…with more marshmallows in stock.