Thanksgiving morning arrives quietly. The air is sharp. Breath turns to mist. You can feel the hum of energy, whether you’re pinning on a bib for the turkey trot or clutching a thermos on the sideline, watching friends and family gather at the line.
There’s something universal about this hour before the day begins. The stillness. The anticipation. The shared promise that movement, in all its forms, is something to be grateful for.
The alarm sounds early.
You stretch, roll your shoulders, and feel the faint chill from the window. It’s race day, but it’s also a ritual. Your body’s annual reminder that the holidays can begin with intention, not indulgence.
A glass of water first. Cool, clear, with a squeeze of lemon. Then a few minutes to move. To breathe. To wake the muscles that will carry you through the miles.
You wash your face with OM Botanical's cleanser and the bright scent of lemon and lemongrass fills your nostrils. It’s crisp and fresh, the kind of fragrance that wakes you gently but completely. Follow with moisturizer. Light. Botanical. Grounding. The way good skincare should feel: quiet and confident.
Outside, the sun is just a suggestion.
There’s chatter near the start line.
Laughter, shuffling feet, the squeak of shoes on cold pavement.
Someone adjusts a watch. Someone else jumps in place to stay warm. You pull your hat lower and breathe warmth into your hands.
A quick swipe of natural deodorant with the bright, herbal scent of lemongrass and geranium. Then a layer of sunscreen. Even in November, the light finds your skin.
You glance around. Everyone is here for something - speed, tradition, connection.
You’re here for the feeling. The one that starts before the horn sounds. That quiet awareness that you’re part of something human, simple, and beautiful.
The first steps are hesitant, then steady.
Breath finds rhythm. The cold softens. The world narrows to your heartbeat and the road ahead.
You catch flashes of faces. Families cheering. Kids holding signs. A dog barking from the curb. There’s no noise inside you. Just motion and gratitude.
Your skin tingles from the wind. Your muscles sing. It’s effort and ease, all at once. The miles unwind beneath you.
The finish appears before you realize.
A blur of orange cones, cowbells, familiar faces. You slow. Walk. Smile. Breath still quick but light. Someone hands you a cup of water. Someone else offers a hug.
You feel your heart in your fingertips. Your skin alive and flushed.
You spritz antioxidant mist, cool and bright with the earthy calm of neroli and patchouli. The scent settles like a deep breath, grounding you after the adrenaline fades. A small thank you to the body that carried you here.
Then rub magnesium body lotion on your calves, easing the quiet ache with every stroke. Your muscles soften. Your breath deepens. The race becomes a memory.
Back home, the shower is warm.
Steam blurs the mirror.
The day ahead will be full - family, food, conversation - but for now, this is enough. You wash away the salt and sweat, letting the water trace the work you’ve done.
Clean skin. Tired legs. Clear mind.
You emerge softer, steadier. You reach for your magnesium lotion again, not from vanity but ritual. A way of telling your body: you’ve done well.
The gratitude sinks in.
Later, when you sit down at the table, there’s no trace of the early morning chill. Just warmth, stories, and that quiet satisfaction that comes from having already done something good for yourself.
You remember the start line. The laughter. The nerves. The strangers standing shoulder to shoulder. You remember how the cold felt against your skin and how the first mile reminded you to breathe.
You give thanks. For motion. For stillness. For the way a simple ritual can make you feel connected to your body, your breath, and everything around you.
Then you tuck in.
