Good morning from the ranch, where I am raising my coffee and wishing you a lovely day! Two more sleeps, and then I’m off to back-to-back races for the first time in (what feels like) forever.

I always feel a little pushed and pulled once the race season begins, because there is so much go-go-go, and with that comes a sense of almost confusion over where home is.

Because the racetrack feels like home. But so does the ranch, and so does wherever my babies are. I’m always missing someone or someplace, in quiet moments between the joyous noise that is this badass career I built from the ground up. And my goodness how I miss racing when I don’t have it.

I frequently miss “home,” and I am forever chasing it. I often ask myself, but where even is home? Last year, one of my favorite friends sat across from me in a restaurant and gently suggested that home is a feeling, not a place…. and I guess that rings true, now that I think about it.

Now that I really think about it…. Home is where you are content and feel like you belong, where you can let your guard down, where your heart is filled by the connection you experience with your people.

So in a way, going to the races is like going home, just the same as pointing my little car toward the ranch or my girls after the race.

Maybe that’s a gift, to have so much home in my life. Maybe I’ve just been looking at it wrong.