At the end of April, I went into New York for the Yoga Journal conference, and as I was walking back to my hotel, arms filled with swag from a PR meet and greet, and high off an awesome workshop with Kathryn Budig, I stepped off the curb on 5th Ave during rush hour and rolled my ankle. My foot was still on the curb and my ankle was on the road, if you need a good visual. I continued to try to cross the street but I couldn't put any weight on my foot and I had to hobble back to the curb. In tears, I sat down and tried to figure out what to do next. A lovely little woman saw the whole thing happen and helped me get a cab (she literally stood on the curb for a solid fifteen to twenty minutes waiting for a free cab). I was in such pain and I was panicking. Not only did this injury mean I couldn't finish out my weekend in New York, but I had three retreats lined up beginning in just over a week. Oh, and the retreats were in Europe and traveling on my own while injured? Yeah, it was safe to say I was sort of losing it.