Four years ago we spent a life changing week in the Picos mountains. I remember the first time I met Alice, in that room where over the week, our secrets and dreams and fears were revealed. I recognised her grief and her loss; she seemed reduced, as though she felt she was taking up too much room in the world. She spoke quietly. Eloquently and elegantly. She was so raw and honest, she inspired the same of me; such connection and authenticity could not have led us anywhere else but friendship.

This afternoon I have been looking through my Big Stretch notebook and journal of that week. When I arrived at La Montana Magica I felt completely out of sorts. I was a few weeks off flying home to New Zealand, of leaving the only life I really knew. I had no idea what I was getting myself in for. I knew I wanted to leave London. I wanted to go home. And I thought I was there to mark this crossroads in my life. But after a few days of hiking up peaks and through gorges, kayaking a river and swimming in the ocean, not to mention all of the juicy dreaming and coaching, I was able to create a vision of the life I wanted in my head. And Alice, creating her own was like my talisman, with her possibilities and her why nots? We spent an afternoon walking down a mountain to the soundtrack of cowbells, pretending we were meeting up five years hence, and telling our stories. On the last day we grabbed each others hand and ran into the ocean like children.

And today we happily reminisced over bubbles and lunch in the sunshine. Alice takes up more room these days, she has a presence about her that is commanding. I am not surprised she got the big job. We are both much altered. Healed.

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