If you do it right, Let it go all night, Shadows on you break, Out into the light, If you lose your way tonight, That’s how you know the magic’s right.” Panda Bear
Looking at the house of mountains that rest themselves in nooks of earth makes my mind search for memories. A gander of sight that captures this newness, but searches for memories to define what I see, cannot be accurate. For the sight of what stands all around me, these mountains see me as I do not see myself. High in the apline I contemplate age, names, and time. Though ascent to this view is brand new.
Let the need to define things dim. The sun helps me to see the essence of rock that jets to the sky, evergrowing and expanding, without the faintest clue as to what I behold. A temptation trickles in my breathe to speak what I see. Internally conversing with myself until silence intervenes. It’s upon these rock bodies that I do not know, though my body yearns to understand.
I try to name the mountain range and with it comes hollowness. I didn’t come here to evaluate things I know nothing about. Though imagery of memory favors mindfulness, evaluation results in a myriad of titles placed before my sight. For without the fixation to name what is before me comes the underlying order of my place among things. A shifting body that evolves in each moment with its surroundings.
My brother, I climb so high to gain this wisdom. For the effort, I ask you to integrate this experience into myself so that it may coexist with the sight that within me. Share it with others as they witness my eyes. Reveal these things that have crafted my actions. Project the vastness. Inspire thought forms to arise as the sight before me squrims and shakes. Protrude the frequency of harmony so that it may become audible in my speech. You are my teacher and my words yearn for your vibration. Feed me the rightful nutrients so that I may do my work in integrity.
With the Leadville 100 roughly 4 months away my minds been drifting towards my Maui amigos who are preparing for the foot race on the lush rock floating in the South Pacific. Here’s an update from my pal Rec#1
Aloha brother. Great to hear from u. I think of u often. Life is blessed. Going thru so much growth and transformation . Separated/ divorced from my previous life partner 7 months ago. And although our time together was beautiful . My soul and spirit are thriving now. Heart still healing . I just feel this abundant force of the universe guiding me along.
Fatherhood is magic. An enlightened little being teaches me daily. Can’t wait for u to meet her. Living in the moment:) . Changing my life . The way I live . Eat . Breath exist is high interest of the present.
Music is sincerely flowing from a genuine place. Check out the improv I posted on my page . There’s a video from a few weeks ago and I posted the lyrics to my new song (I wrote) just a few days ago.
Legs hmmmm. They are there. I’m just whatever . Truly . I’m kinda past the big 100 mile saga. I will deal with it the day it comes. I don’t think about it much. We did that epic 60 and a lot of barriers in the mind came down and others were exposed. I set out thinking it was 40. That was the hardest and farthest Ive ever gone. Also the most fulfilling. I am just running when I can. The altitude thing enters my mind every now and again. And I can’t really imagine running the whole thing. But I felt that way once about 10. 20. 26. And beyond too. Basically it’s just a thing now. And before it was a huge thing. Love u brother!!
After a healthy dosage of home he boarded a plane and flew to Colorado. He was picked up by Gaza and Hunt. They drove through Vail with the wipers brushing away snowflakes.
The traveler dropped his bag and looked around at his summer abode. Fluffly white stuff covered the upcountry. He slept well that first night. In his dream he saw himself running the Leadville 100. Images of effortless strides and beautiful vistas carried him along until he awoke.
Fully aware he looked out at the snow capped mountains and contemplated his dream. What had he learned?
Searching the deep dark depth of his soul tone, he acknowledged that Source had created movement, enough to place him at this particular point on the planet to continue his mission. Over the horizion the town of Leadville rests. August 17th is around the corner. A 100 days stand before him.
Though the thought brings tremendous energy, he uses the vision as inspiration to remain present. There’s no need to rush the moment along. He savors the cold afternoon breeze and observes his breathe.
After an unforgettable Boston experience, I traveled to my hometown of North Canton, OH. Consider it a calibrating of circuitry. Had many blessed moments with family and friends. For these occurrences my heart beats strong. Beating the song that leads me along my way. This is a picture of my sister Liz & I at the Viking Victory 5k. It goes to show that no matter how far away one travels, the heart will always guide you home.
The cot us travelers woke up on in Dallas were fine. My body stretched out the difference of time changes and boarded the plane to Boston. There were many of us. Some had Boston marathon warm up jackets on, kids with parents, and elderly couples all embarking on a trip through the sky.
These days I rarely carry a phone so communication with Mom was made possible through pay phones and Facebook. She had arrived in Boston the night before and waited patiently to pick me up from Logan airport. We hadn’t seen each other for close to a year so after months of visualization the plane’s landing was every bit as surreal as witnessing a ghost, both fantastic and unexplainable. Here Boston stood. Colonial and stoney, vibrant and gaping.
. After finishing my coffee I anxiously paced around the airport in search of Momma. She was here somewhere. As my body pulled itself along by an invisible force it was evident that we were on each others mind. Telepathy, fate, whatever you call it brought us near and as I saw her face searching the crowd, I waved my hands. She saw her sunny eyed son.
(Mom & I headed for Framingham)
As with any path of purpose a focus upon allowing events to naturally occur connects itself to our bliss without any remnant of force. Without maniuplating factors in our environment, we effortlessly waltz into each delicious experience, eating one after another. Mom & I satisfied our hunger by skipping fast food options and opted for high vibratory energy instead. We parked da CAh (insert Bostonian accent) at Whole Foods in downtown and supplied ourselves with cacao, chia, goji, pumpin seeds, and other frutis and veggies.
Fueling my body with medicinal food has become a prerequiste for my success on and off the running path. By practicing the habits of an alkalized diet I have improved strength, mental clarity, and feel full longer. Preparing for a marathon can be grueling, but with concentration upon the correct fuel one can reap the benefits of endurance, stamina, and speed without overtraining yourself.
As the day darkened, Mom & I drove to Framingham where we laid our heads for the evening. Resting and dreaming, running while sleeping, on the verge of flying though teethered to my body in a cozy bed swallowed in covers. You can suspect the startlement of morning as it came quickly as showering, dressing and meeting up with Glenn, Alex, and Kayle, three tremendous friends, at the marathon expo.
(myself, glenn, & Alex…Kayle is around there somewhere!)
People watching at an expo of this nature is extremely rewarding. You can readily access ones anticipation simply by observing their body language. All signs indicated excitement. An enthusiasm for movement remains one of the most contagious vibrations one can encounter. And once it has been experienced the notion of limits melts into a pool of anything is possible. Have a moment like this and greatness will never leave your soles.
Recollections from Sleep that Night (There’s some static, there’s a bit of fuzz, the blinds are pulled back and intense white light pierces the haze. We wake up…ZzzZzzz)
April 15, 2013 - The Day of Reckoning
Imagination fuels the engine that propels a vision into reality. And as the anticipation of thousands of men, and women from around the world awoke with the spirit of the marathon in their hearts, so did the knocking on Mom & I’s hotel door. Who could it be? None other than barefoot running legend, Julian Romero.
(2:39 barefoot marathoner….please fathom that for a moment…ok it’s safe to continue)
Yolo dropped Julian and I off at Hopkinton. What a foreign yet familiar sight it was to watch the runner, donned in warm weather gear, shake the early morning cobwebs out with streching and other forms nervous fidgeting. The preparation had reached its zenith and now the herd, with its grazing finished, was carted to the starting line. A place full of color. The portal of starting.
Miles evaporated into the seemingly changing collage of the persons in the crowd. A pulsating giration of energy with a voice both screaming and joyful. Shackleless. Freed from the preoccupation of occupation and allowed to cheer loudly in celebration of strangers now brothers and sisters unified to the rhythmn of movement. This was unconditional. Movement knows no segeration.
For an hour I watched my barefeet pounce the pavement. Ocurring impact, moment after moment, until my racing mentality welcomed in the satori. The arrangement of runners next to me flowed into a landscape as harmonius as the trajectory of wind through a tunnel. We flowed through the streets a pack, a goal, an overlapping body of humans running like a stream.
Blurring Ashland to Natick together was the lady of Wellesley. Our eye contact was as piercing as the owl that prawls for rats. Running over to her. The language of no words. We kissed freely in the street as the sea of humans gushed towards Brookline. With lips wet with lactic acid, I turned to the course and commenced the unshod dance rejuvenated!
The beeping time chip clocked me. Tagged me, Badged me. Gave me a number that labeled me. That pushed me. A numeral that distinguished me as time flowing like the hands that clapped us up Heartbreak hill. Momemtum. Savoring the movement. Past monuments. The moment was dreamlike.
“Hey barefooter!!!”, some said as my feet flew by. Donning a tye dye tee and ripped jeans towards Newton turning my legs over as the seconds clicked away.
And on both sides the cheers sounded deafening, diggin louder hour after hour. I saw Alex and Kayle to the right, ducking under a bridge, popping out with the finish line in sight. Staggering bodies, wobbly gaits delegating forefoot striking, fighting off the muscularture tightness in the calves and with arms pumping, sprinting past bleachers of people screaming!
The finishline was unreal. A banner with John Hancocked font nudged the moving towards completion, celebrating us as Boston marathon alum. Yeah, there were bombs at the end, for what is the motive of man to destroy the destiny of goals to complete themselves through works of senselessness?
To realize that light and dark lives in us all. We must acknowledge it within. For the sun knows no other action than rising and falling. And after being knocked down the same must be done to stand again for peace. Yeah, there were bombs at the end, but there was much more laughter and hugs. And the getting up the day after was a blessing worth witnessing. A memory worth visiting.
My family’s & I prayers go out to everyone involved during the marathon. May we all know peace.
