lightnfastwrites

So what is this blog all about? Why am I here? That in itself is part of the point. Every moment brings us closer to that unattainable answer, and I personally enjoy listening to the whispering voice of my soul as it lures me further down the rabbit hole.

That voice, my conscience, whatever it is, speaks loudest in moments of struggle and pain, whether physical or otherwise. I need to strip away the nonsense to know what lies beneath. Not everyone listens with similar enthusiasm. That is fine for them, but not for me.

This blog will be for people who unabashedly share their enthusiasm for life. For people who cry and laugh loudly and never make excuses for being themselves. People who aren’t afraid of what lies outside the box, around the corner, or over the edge. Hopefully, it will provide a chuckle or two from time to time.

Technically I’m a writer working in the outdoor industry, or I will be in two weeks, but personally I am not comfortable calling myself a “writer” just yet. Just like running, or relationships, or anything else in life my plan is to work hard and kickass as best I can. A minimalist in all things except for technical apparel and gear purchases or bacon consumption, I have infinite appreciation for the gift that is the human experience, and the gift of my brief existence. I relish in simple things from a warm meal to watching the ants march and the leaves flutter in the wind, while being blown away by such simple pleasures.

I chose this picture to start things off not because I think I look like a badass, even though I do. Which brings up a side note - sarcasm will be present, in spades. I chose this photo because it, and the moments of life that lead up to it, were real. Every moment is, and that is easy to forget and even easier to ignore.

Taken just after finishing a soul-searching solo run on Handies Peak, elev. 14,058′, in the San Juan Mountains of Colorado, I found myself lost in thought but with a mental clarity that can only from physical, mental, and emotional depletion. As often happens, life wasn’t dealing the hand I was looking for. A perfect storm of madness at work and less than optimal personal life conspired to drag me down, but I was having none of it. The mountains are always waiting to heal. A lack of info due to poor planning almost shut me down as I tried to find the trailhead and I arrived hours later than intended, mindful of the standard 12p turnaround when getting high in Colorado.

In less than three hours, some spent pausing to look at maps, 10 minutes allotted for a summit meditation, I ascended and descended more than 8,000′ in roughly 8 miles. My heart rate averaged 168 bpm during those few hours and hit 178 bpm several times. I cried, a lot, on the way up and down. Not because I was sad, and not always because of the pain I was dealing with inside, but because I had freed myself from putting up any barriers to the world around and within. These moments are fleeting and once encountered I embrace them wholly. I view emotion as a source of strength, and efforts to subdue their nature as cowardly. Stoicism is not about ignoring the source, it is about accepting it, being engulfed by it, recognizing it as a question that may in itself be the answer. 

At some point in my life I found the tap that controls the flow of emotion, and I broke the damn thing off. Raw and exposed, I admittedly open myself up to unnecessary pain, take things too personally, and am challenged to understand those who approach life differently. As a runner, I get really, really high sometimes, most times. I’m not sure what a “runner’s high” feels like to other people, but for me it is an overwhelming surge of emotion that I cannot contain; I feel it ever so slightly just writing about it. Emotion seems too empty a word. To describe it in words limited by language, it is a rising tide that is filled with every wonderful and painful moment ever experienced, or a tsunami perhaps, maybe a sledgehammer. Whatever it is, I love it, and about 18 months ago I was not sure if it would be a part of my life as I dealt with the consequences of overtraining and enthusiasm. 

This was my first real ‘run’ since Hood to Coast in August of 2014. Sure there had been plenty of miles laid down on roads, treadmills, and local trail systems, but the mountains are where I both exhaust and fill-up the tank. I had nothing left when all was said and done. Laying down in the talus next to my car my gaze wandered and touched the soaring peaks and clouds, laughing, crying, shaking my head at how lucky I am to just “be”. All the nonsense filling my head had left, leaving a cavernous sense of clarity. The pain inside didn’t disappear completely, but something like a warm fuzzy blanket of comfort filled the void next to it.

That’s what this is all about. Getting high on life. Not being so afraid of failure, resentment, or rejection that you prevent yourself from even trying. Being honest with yourself and giving it everything yet also not taking yourself too seriously. Always looking to break the tap off and drown in the richness of life. Don’t mistake my ponderings as a means of over-validating my actions; a lot of people do a lot more, and better. I am simply pretty damn informed on my own life, and it is extremely accessible. 

Tales of adventure, misadventure, musings on relevant or irrelevant topics, an honest look at the outdoor industry and the irony of working 40+ hours at a desk for an ‘outdoor company’, bacon, split-boarding vs. AT touring, bowline vs. figure-8 knots, tenkara vs. traditional fly rods; everything is fair game. If you like to run, climb, drink beer, be healthy, reflect on life, and chuckle, we will do just fine together.