Best Man Speech

In the spirit of wedding season, I decided to publish this on my blog in case anyone else out there was struggling with a "Best Man speech." I delivered it this past weekend and upon delivery, I have a few tips/thoughts.

1) Practice - out loud - even if you are the Micheal Jordan of public speaking you need to practice to deliver a good speech in front of real people. You need to hear your voice and how things sound out loud.

2) Unless you are a professional comedian and constantly making people laugh naturally, stick to being sincere. Maybe lob a couple light hearted jokes but if you try to hard - it will be noticed. 

3) Keep it under 5minutes. Tops.

So, hear is what I have... feel free to use it, or parts of it, or ideas from it or whatever. It is unedited and typed mostly how I spoke it. Good luck.

  Hello, my name is Billy.  

So - Over the years Eric and I have had well-intention-ed arguments over engineering topics, movies (lots of movies), beers, career paths, and even love. Eric asked me to be in his wedding and be a Best Man a while ago and that made me extremely happy. Not only because he was planning a life together with the woman of his dreams (Sarah you look gorgeous!) buuuuut - he was finally admitting that after all those arguments and debates - I - in fact - was the best man all along.

So yeah - Bookie and I met on Sea Term my freshman, his sophomore year. I know half of the room is nick-named "Bookie" - but I can't seem to bring myself to call him "Eric" was on what "Trash Compactor Watch". For those of you who aren't familiar with Mass Maritime, I will spare you the description but just know that - like a lot of things at Mass Maritime Academy - it was a boring and seemingly pointless task on the ship... (I am still not quite sure what we were supposed to be doing?)

But anyways - I was a freshman on a training ship for the first time and after I walked into the trash compactor room and saw Eric sitting there I think the dialog went something like this:
(dweeby voice) "Oh hey man whatcha doing?"
For those of you who don't know this is the voice that every freshman makes at MMA
"I'm on trash compactor watch, go away."
"Trash compactor watch... what's that? The senior sent me down here to help."
"Oh - you really want to help??"
"Sure Sure - teach me something cool"
"Alright well here we go - thiiiiiiis right here is the trash compactor."
"Oh yeah...cool..."
"Sit in thiiiis seat... and watch it."
"OK cool  - 10-4"
Eric started to walk out.
"Hey wait where are you going, bro??"
"You just sit there and watch! OK?!"
"Dude...!"
Eric then proceeded to go up to the mess deck and make a sandwich.

He took his sweet time too... I am not quite sure how long he was gone for but I was pissed. The thing about Eric is that - - And I am sure everyone in the room can relate - - After giving me, much deserved, grief as a silly freshman at MMA on a ship for the first time - - He came down back to watch with a half sandwich for me too.

And if that's not quintessential Eric Bookmiller in a nutshell - I am not quite sure what is... He is always quick with a joke and to poke fun but this guy cares more about each and every one of you in this room more than life itself.

We didn't really talk or hang out much for the rest of sea term (not intentionally or out of spite - but just because we had other groups of friends) but after we got closer over the years we both still lament about the missed potential of friendship and adventures in ports in the Caribbean we could have had if we had known, at the beginning of the relationship, how great of friends we would turn out to be.

Over the next few years, we became close. Late nights cramming for tests, late nights drinking at POC because we didn't want to cram for tests, early morning engineering labs, early mornings hungover at Leo's. There was a whole lot of movies, and a whole lot of Xbox. All along the one common theme in Eric's head was always Sarah.

Just like Eric and I didn't how good of friends we would turn out to be after the trash compactor episode, I am sure Eric and Sarah (though they made had a good feeling about it) probably didn't know how incredible their relationship would turn out at the very beginning. I think that's how the best things often turn out though. You always be yourself, and you always make an effort. Life has a funny way of taking care of the rest.

Though they were in two different states, and sometimes he was in the middle of the ocean - they carved time out for each other and no matter what the situation was they made each other number one in their lives. When ever Eric would hang up the phone, there was always a "She's the one for me... She's my girl." on the tip of his tongue. I didn't know Sarah at the time but one thing was obvious about their relationship all along. They didn't have to change who they were to make each other smile, and they always put effort in and made it work.

Now, a couple weeks ago I emailed both Eric and Sarah and I asked them not to discuss the email with each other. I asked them, among other things to list qualities that they admire most about one another. Honestly, I thought this was just going to be a way to get some ammo for this speech to poke fun at them but I quickly realized after reading the separate responses why these two are meant to be. So, to wrap this up, I just want to share their responses on the top qualities they each listed.

Number one from Eric: She listens to my rants. (No small feat... as most of you know)
Number one from Sarah: He listens to all my crazy and gory work stories.

Eric's number two: She puts up with my dumb jokes
Sarah's two: He is a goofball with a dry sarcastic sense of humor that makes me smile

Three, Eric: She is smart
Sarah: He is willing to learn something new even if it is just to make me happy

Last but not least...
Eric: She's compassionate
Sarah: He sees the best in life no matter what

Clearly they are on the same page as one another...

So let's raise our glasses to Eric and Sarah... When you combine all the above, let's toast to their new life together... and for God's sake that from now on, no one else will have to listen to Eric's weird rants or Sarah's gory work stories, - but most importantly the most compassionate marriage with the driest sense of humor of them all.

Thoreau Introspection

Humidity. Shiiiiit. This may be the only thing in Boston that hits you before the flight attendant's accent.
(Ding) "Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to Baw-stin. Where the local time is..."
I had almost forgotten about both.

The two main reasons for the trip were to throw a bachelor party for my little brother and then celebrate a wedding the following weekend. I filled up the rest of the week with catching up with friends, workouts, and mini-adventures. 

I was halfway across Walden Pond and just about to fake a flip-turn when the first pieces for this little nugget came into my brain. That, and I had seen a few brace souls dump a myriad of thoughts and emotions into similar lists of their own. I had been off the red-eye for only a matter of hours and Walden was the first place I went. Though he did not have to elbow through tourists or see the ugly construction taking place, Thoreau was really onto something. There is just something really magical about Walden Pond.

Being back at such an awe inspiring place and not being able to call it "home" is a peculiar feeling. Through a swim at Walden and run thru the city, I found myself recounting life events, soul searching, dealing with the overwhelming feelings of such profound connections with people and places but also a gratitude to the next adventure.

I had a hard time organizing these thoughts but finally settled on this. I'm approaching the start line of the final year in my twenties so in true BuzzFeed fashion here's my 29 for 29. Twenty-nine personal lessons or thoughts for 29 years in Boston training for races and life in general.

1. I believe that a bold and hearty "Fahk you" from a Bostonian is equal to a Goose/Maverick-volleyball-style high-five anywhere else.

2. My janky running cadence is symbiotic to my current writing cadence. I love both of these activities and I am going to have to work on both if I want to get any better at either.

3. A polite "On your left" said anywhere else means "Please excuse me and do not be alarmed as I run by you." Roughly translated on the Charles River: "You wanna race, asshole?"

4. I still purposely have my read receipts on.

5. A text response in all emojis is the universal sign for "this conversation is fucking over" - How do some people not know this yet?

6. Any show with a built in laugh track is not inherently not funny.

7. I live by Frost's "Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening". That poem describes perfectly the feeling of being back home, and with the same exact words, describes why I left. I still smile walking past the tattoo shop in Davis Square where I decided to have it inked into my bicep. I still give a head-nod to the artist in the window every time though I am sure he doesn't remember me.

8. I also don't remember the name of the barista at The Wholy Grain and I am sure she doesn't remember mine. Upon walking in, we both recognize each other and decide tacitly not to acknowledge the meaninglessness of the name-oversight. She remembers my order perfectly (a large black coffee and Swiss Muesli). Interactions like this make me smile.

9. What someone has hanging on their refrigerator might be the best insight into their life.

10. I'm not quite sure when I realized this but I look up to my little brother in more ways than I'll probably ever admit to him.

11. Ketchup is disgusting. It is a microcosm to all that is wrong with the world.

12. I don't follow or care for sports much anymore though I do pretend to for the sole purpose of maintain connections with some friends and family.

13. As a pudgy second grader who was banished to always playing goalie at recess, I tried to change my name from Billy to Will for no other reason than I thought it would make me run faster and be inherently "cooler". Reason being that Will Russel was the fastest kid in school. I realized far too late in the game that it was OK not to be in the "cool crowd".

14. Though I love constantly dropping hearts on friends pictures, I am not proud of how attached to social media I am. I realize it is a "highlight reel" and not a true depiction of anyone's life but am jealous of people who go weeks without caring to check-in on the world.

15. The jury was out on dating apps for a while. My gavel has, as of recently, slammed them to be bullshit. It is an easy way to jam a square shaped "fix" into a circle shaped void. It inherently robs two people of the magic of organically connecting with one another and developing a relationship. The satisfaction of an instantly gratifying connection hijacks the sensation of reliving those weightless butterfly feelings whenever anyone asks "So, how'd you meet?"

16. "Maybe we could just get together and eat a bunch of caramels." 

17. Seeing the Milky Way under a clear sky for the first time is the most phenomenally belittling experience I have had to date. If I could wish one thing on every human being, it would be this.

18. Running is church to me right now. I believe in it.

19. I still have not had to experience and endure the heartache that comes with the of the death of a loved one. Knowing that it constantly lurks in the shadows of the sometime-future scares the hell out of me.

20. My favorite thing about myself is my ability to smile and bullshit.

21. Leave no trace. But always leave things (people. places, conversations) better than you found them.

22. You're in charge of your on schedule and priorities. The excuse "I'm too busy." Is the ultimate cop out. If you don't want to be somewhere or do something, be honest and don't lead people on.

23. Having confidence and passion beats being physically attractive/sexy every single time.

24. Knowing how to learn and adapt beats actually knowing a lot almost every single time.

25. I once debated that the hardest thing in the world to endure was the tail-end of an unforgiving, tear filled, conversation after breaking a loved one's heart. (I now accept that this is actually the second hardest thing one is obligated to endure).

26a. The last mile of the Boston Marathon is absolutely breathtaking. I miss taking the T out to Woodlands on Thursday nights and running the final third of the Marathon route back into the city. I also miss the pizza, beer, and people afterwards at the dive-iest of dives that was "the upstairs Crossroads Pub."

26b. I also won't be able to think of that pub without reliving the scene of falling in love for the first time. I mean really falling in love. Hard. Started by an unsuspecting comment to a stranger who I thought had just ordered a "post-run-Martini." The lessons learned and experiences from that relationship had a profound affect on who I am and how I live/love today.

27a. Consequently, I now accept that the number one hardest thing to endure is to sit on the other side of the aforementioned break-up conversation and listen as someone that you've given your whole heart to tries to explain that they do not want to be with you anymore. 

27b. I think the best (read: only) thing one can do in the above situation is not make the situation any harder than it has to be. Sitting in silent acceptance will be your only way to "return fire" as you make it more awkward for the other person. Because fuck them and what they are putting you through. (It will also make it more awkward for the cab drive who overheard the whole thing... because fuck him, too, right?).

28. I live for awkward moments and will crack jokes or movie quotes even knowing that no one around me might get them. And as long as I think that I'm funny, that's all that matters. It also makes it all the better when people do get the jokes.

29a. Weddings are still weird to me. As I watch two friends look into each other and profess an unconditional love, I am both profoundly happy that I am not ready for that yet, but, in the same sentence, admit I am equally scared I will never be able to get on that level. 

29b. I will, however, take the opportunity at your wedding to overindulge and dance with your grandmother.

Boston from the Blue Hills Skyline Trail

Who's the douchebag?

You be the judge. These are the facts of he case, and they are undisputed. Ladies and gentlemen, Who's the douchebag?

So I got on the 2.5hr shuttle van to the airport and sat in the second row. Heading home for a bachelor party and a wedding. The van was full. Most people were just minding their own business quietly. I know this is horrible form but I had to take a call (about a job). I know how lame this is so before I picked it up I apologized to the people next to me and said I'd only be a few minutes.  No one else in the van was talking so I really didn't see a huge deal in this. It's not the best situation but not the worst. And this guy and I have been playing phone tag for almost two weeks now. I need to emphasize the fact that I wasn't talking any louder than a whisper. Seriously, I was wondering if he could even hear me.

Anyways, I pick up the phone and after about ten minutes the driver asked me to hang up so she could call dispatch. I wasn't thrilled but I abided and told the guy I'd call him right back. When she finished I went to call him back. The driver asked me "not to talk on the phone all ride" and said I should only text. I politely told her that my call meant a lot to me and I'd be quick and that it couldn't be texted, I honestly wonder if she could even hear me talking from two feet away.

I proceeded to call this guy back and lowered my volume even more. Every Time I whispered into the phone she got annoyed and made a point to speak very loudly, seemingly just to annoy me. Eleven minutes later after successfully landing this thing (only after toggling the mute button every time this lady opened her ugly throat hole). I again apologized to everyone in the van and thanked them for bearing with me. One guy even commented, "Sounded like a pretty good call." and everyone chuckled and smiled.

She then proceeded to make miserable conversation with the person in the passenger seat obnoxiously loud FOR THE REST OF THE RIDE! On the contrary, no one else in the van spoke the rest of the ride. The passenger she was speaking to, as far as I could see, didn't even want to be talking to her. Her voice was absolutely horrible and I wanted to squeeze the rest of her stupid water bottle down her gullet until she shut the fuck up.

So I honestly ask - what's the difference between me talking on my phone for 20 out of the 150min ride and her babbling the whole time? What if I had been talking to someone next to me? Would that have made a difference?

Or does she hold the trump card because she's driving? I'd totally understand if that were the case but I dont really see a huge deal in quietly taking a call on a shuttle bus. Again- I know it's not the best situation for anyone but is it so bad that she has the right to ask me to hang up?!

Does acknowledging the fact that I was "that guy" rescind me a little from the title? Or am I just a giant bag of douche for taking the call?

Who's the new guy?

I am so new to Flag that I still feel out of place calling it Flag. Like that awkward feeling speaking a foreign language in another country even if you know it fluently. How long do I have to be here before I can use the abbreviation unequivocally? And I don't know why but I told very (very) few people, even close friends, that I made the jump over one more state westward. Maybe 10-20% of me felt like my 3 month stint in Denver was a bit of a failure for more reasons than one. Maybe it was just not the right fit at the time. Maybe I moved out there for the wrong reasons in the first place. "Everyone has a game plan until they get punched in the face." - Muhammad Ali.

I essentially "ghosted" the city of Denver. Judge away; I'm not proud of it but nonetheless that's what went down. On the contrary, the subtle welcoming whispers from a couple of really key friends whom I really look up to on the life spectrum broke thru to me and I couldn't ignore the opportunity (two of these friends I am currently staying with and forever will be grateful for their hospitality). For the second time in three months my entire life was in the back of a UHAUL and the rear view mirror was pointed east. It was actually a Penske truck and there wasn't a rear view mirror but shit I saved some money and the description was on point so let me get back to my story, please?

Day 3: I scored my first date out here. Mother Nature always seems to swipe right. Rapid fire style. She doesn't care about your first picture or your stupid corny description or how tall you are or what you do for a living. I didn't lob a lame one-liner out there or poke fun at any of her pictures to get the conversation going.
She even texted first. "Meet up on the mountains at sunrise." 
"Dang, a little forward." I thought, "But what the hell, right?"
Starting the trek right at 0400. I got to the top of Doyle's Saddle a little early. I waited around for a bit but it was clear to me what was going on. Cloud cover that condensed on my arm hair and cold winds that cut thru the thin shirt I was wearing. No sunrise in sight. The bitch stood me up. I proceeded onward down the back side of the climb until my watch clicked passed the 3hr mark then flipped it back and retraced my steps for another 3 hours. In a town that sees thousands of passerbys, even Mother Nature needed reassurance my intentions were good. "Fair" I thought with a smirk and grinned all the way home.

I had never moved as a kid but now appreciate how hard it must have been.  The new kid feelings were reaffirmed Day 5. Not on the mountains but my one of my next favorite places. A brewery. Dark Sky Brewery to be exact and immediately took a liking to the place in every aspect. OK, you caught me. This was actually my second night in a row here. I popped in for a beer or two the night before and it wrapped up as prescribed. However, Day 5 I accidentally sat down a the right table with two of the couples who founded the brewery (I actually met them back in April on another running adventure) but this time the conversation started with, "Are you staying here for a while or just for a training stint?" in other words "Should I bother to remember your name?" I said something to the affect of, "I'll stay if you'll have me." and two beers turned into hours of laughs and that turned into closing the place. I might have even offered to mop. High quality beer topped only by the high caliber people here. Seriously. Top notch.

Asking me why I moved again would be similar to asking the lead singer of the Beets (Monroe Yoder) why he needs more allowance.

Speaking of which, can someone please tell me where I can order a Honker Burger and get a dog like Porkchop? Though I don't doubt the move from Bloatsburg to Bluffington was hard for Doug, I digress down a 90s childhood of analogies again. I am not sorry.

I am also gearing up to give two "best man" speeches this fall so I am going to try walk the line of expressing a new found point of view without giving away all of my material (who knows if this is the best it'll get?).

Moving (spending hours upon hours driving through a cell-phone-service-less desert and nothing on the radio) got me thinking about how people "brand" themselves. And I think the "brand" one presents to the world is a reflection of the constantly rolling narration in one's head. It mostly falls to the means and methods of which we measure in our lives or what we "keep track of". Instead of thinking of the DNFs, the times it didn't workout, or the number of heartbreaks - doesn't it service us better as humans to mark a tally, instead, for all the times we made it work out, took a risk, or brought a smile to someone's face? Spoiler alert: the latter is more difficult but it is also the only way to change the tone of the voice inside your head and hence redefine your "brand" or what you are putting out into the world. And furthermore, what you are getting back from it.

So what is your brand? Because you have one whether you want one or not. What are you putting out into the world? What's your story? How do you treat people? Are you the person who complains about most things? Who can't help themselves from groaning in the grocery line impatiently? Are you the runner who is "way to taxed" or can't be bothered to thank the volunteers at a race? I guarantee it will never hurt - and most of the times help - your outlook on the race... or life. This next part is in no way meant to be seen as being said from a soapbox but I have recently made it a point to compliment or start a conversation with any major encounter throughout the day. Try it just for one day - I swear to God it will change your day/life. If you are unhappy with the personal narrative or even just a part of it - it is easy to change. And with that change your "brand" (granted moving to a new city makes it a lot easier but definitely not necessary).

It may seem insincere or forced at first. It might just be that. But that won't last long when you see faces light up around you.
"Cool hat, man!"
"I love that necklace/those earrings."
"What are you drinking?"
"What's up with your eye?" (Just kidding - don't use this one)

Just try it. Mood follows action. Key being that you need to act first.

"We are not given a short life but we make it short, and we are not ill-supplied but wasteful of it… Life is long if you know how to use it." -Seneca

At the grocery store, just make a quick effort to smile or say an extra "How are you?" rather than the usual BS. I was recently talking with a friend on the subject of how someone actually makes new friends after high school/ college or outside of work. Well half the battle is just to show up. Don't get so caught up in yourself all of the time (some of the time is perfectly fine) but make room for the small stuff rather than the majority of your day moving from "I need this" to "I don't have time for that". The other half is usually as simple as be nice.
It goes a long the longest way. Be weird. Be different. Have a story. Have something to say. Mean it.
Otherwise your life is on autopilot and it will be over in a blink.

Fast forward to now. Day 6. I've been posted up in coffee shop for hours now and I swear I stopped in for a quick coffee and I was going to be right out but the song playing when I walked in was Dave Matthews Band - "Grey Street" (I am not sure how many other guys my age will admit that they are still DMB fans. Again, judge away). I thought how appropriate that song was and opened the laptop. I hadn't talked to barista who initially poured my coffee since I complimented her crazy turquoise jewelry. I quickly learned it was her late grandmother's jewelry and she had once lost it and she finally got it back and it meant the world to her and she appreciated the compliment.

She came by a couple times as quietly typed away with a smile and silently placed another ice-java-mocha-whosie-whats-it in front of me. I only really drink black coffee and I still don't know the difference between any coffee drinks but the free-ness of unbidden beverages was certainly an added bonus to the day. I didn't send the compliment off in the hopes of getting anything in return but the exchange brought on a mood was prohibitively pleasant the rest of the time I was there. I can't say for certain but I have an underlying feeling that the vast majority of the people in Flag are on the same page whether they are conscience to it or not. I think I'll fit in fine here.

There’s an emptiness inside her
And she’d do anything to fill it in
And though it’s red blood bleeding from her now
It’s more like cold blue ice in her heart
She feels like kicking out all the windows
And setting fire to this life
She could change everything about her using colors bold and bright
But all the colors mix together - to grey

But she says, “Please"
"There’s a crazy man that’s creeping outside my door,
I live on the corner of Grey Street and the end of the world”

Try the Hot Pockets, They're breathtaking...

Let me set the scene first. Four half-opened eyes in a borrowed Toyota Tacoma on I-70 at 0315 heading from Denver to Aspen. Specifically the Maroon Lake Trailhead. 
Patrick: "Dude, I made some excellent grilled cheese sandwiches for this run. Thick cheddar melted to perfection in between two pieces of double buttered bread. Probably still warm." He didn't leave out a detail.

Cut to the trial head (with a Spongebob-esque transition), Patrick (my partner in crime's name... not the cartoon starfish) searching thru his bags. "Dang! Must have forgotten the sandwiches! What a let down!" 

The whole day was filled with these movie-type goofy transitions that felt like they were to be accompanied by a laugh-track.

It is now 0715. Just a few minutes past sunrise. "Oh, well." I said. "At least the trail is clear and we can get started before it gets crowded."

0.15 miles later... "Oh yeah, we just had to close the trail. There is an injured moose right up ahead. You can wait him out or go home."
End story. We went home...

"Any other options?" I asked with a little bit of left over Boston smartassery that is usually never appreciated.
"You could bush-wack around the lake a bit but you better go deep because you're in some real danger. That would definitely be ill advised though."

Cue the off trail adventure. After about a half a mile, we circumnavigated the moose and got back on trail. The sun rose at 0640, meaning it was light out, but just like Patrick and I, it was still slowly making its way over the mountains and struggling to break the horizons of the peaks and ridge lines that surrounded us. At the very moment that I started to get into a running groove, I simultaneously made the mistake of thinking, "Hmm, at least the super steep stuff hasn't started yet."

The increase in grade dope slapped me almost literally as the side of the mountain shoots up 26-42% grade for the next 2.7miles. Trying to run from 10,200ft to 12,500ft in such a short distance brings about a few Seinfeld-esque chess matches.

The first is whether your eyes should try and take in the surrounding views that are so astounding that even seeing them makes you question if they are real OR should you stare at the ground and navigate the rocks and place your foot on a surface that will keep your ankle right-side-down.

A couple big keys to ultra-trail-running is breathing and eating. Seems simple, but the second chess match consists of your stomach vs your lungs. The air is so scarce that it often takes 2-3 breaths to get the oxygen of a normal breath... Sometimes I have no idea whether it is better to get the needed -oh-two or try and get some sugar down.

Trying to keep pace as your body desperately craves both and only being able to fully satisfy one at a time is sometimes a sport in itself. Gasping, stepping, taking a small bite, gasping, gasping, stepping, "Look at those mountains!"... repeat...

We made it to the top of Buckskin Pass a few minutes before 9am. Not a bad pace for the moose detour but still slower than we anticipated. I guess I should describe the "we" as Patrick was a stranger to me all but two weeks ago and this adventure was probably the 5th or 6th time we have talked. The first was right outside my Denver apartment. He had just moved in to the same complex and was exiting with the same bike-over-the-shoulder mannerisms I was entering in. He was also looking for a job in the area at the time which made it easy to meet up for a day-drinking session. Long story short is that I mentioned my idea of hitting this loop in 4 days... He said he hadn't been running in a while but was over-ecstatic about joining me (not sure if it was the beer or the trail running he was pumped about). A day drinking, bike riding, job-less dude not afraid to take on a colossal Colorado trail on little training... Bro-mance at first sight one might say.

And here we stand - Four days later 4.5 miles into a 27mile trail and at 12,500ft. Patrick made the next mistake of saying, "OK cool - let's eat quick and try and make up some time on this descent."

The trail replied with a resounding "NO"

Or rather "(S)NO(W)"...

It had hailed last night and then froze over. The sun rays hadn't made it's way over the backside of the pass yet. Damn you, Fermat. We slowly slid down the next 3.5 miles as gracefully as Ryan Lochte slid into that sponsorship from a crime prevention program. 

Rolling hills for the next mile and half were brought us to the start of our next pass climb. But not before the epic sight of Snowmass lake. We turned a corner and the thing popped out at us like a jack-in-the-box.

Once I got over the overwhelming feeling of the sight of the lake I got to thinking about the past week. The combination of the mountains and the lake reminded me of Coeur d'Alene and the Ironman race that I took on 9 days prior. I was disappointed in the result mostly because the marathon didn't go as planned and I knew deep down I could have done a lot better. The feeling of being so sure I could have done better and not being able to prove it on race days threw in into a semi-depressed state. It was a rough 9days and anyone who has texted or called me since knows that I have been a less than perfect friend.

I try to shake things like this off but it gets to me like nothing else does. It's easy to say things like, "It's just a race." and "You still did great"... blah blah blah. As much as I hate to admit it, these races mean a ton to me. I don't quite know why yet. 

The only way to describe the very real post race depression I go thru is this: Imagine you are tasked with baking the worlds best cake. Every day you are only allowed to put in a little tiny bit of one ingredient. You keep putting in a bit of flour every day. A tiny bit of sugar the next. And you repeat this every day for nine months. Towards the end you put in an egg and the bigger stuff. (I realize this is an absurd way to bake a cake but bear with me)... The batter tastes delicious and you are getting ready to put it into the oven... You wait even more as the thing bakes. You started this cake at the beginning of the year and you know you have made the world's best batter.

The oven dings and you get mitts on to take this perfect piece of confection out and taste it and present it to friends and family.

Except when you open the oven a midget doppelgänger of Zoltan Mesko jumps out and punts you in the groin sending you 60yards downfield in a perfect human spiral and you slowly roll to a stop at the half yard line.

Ironically the last time that I was really proud of a race was Ironman Mont Tremblant back in 2014. The time was exactly the same as Ironman Coeur d'Alene. 10hours 11 minutes. The only difference being that this was the last race where I know deep down that I gave every last bit of energy (physically, mentally, and emotionall) I had to finish with the best possible time. I emptied the tank 100% and dug deeper than I ever conceived possible back in August, 2 years ago. Though I have raced faster times since; I haven't really had that feeling since. I'm after it like a junkie after their next fix.

Yeah. It's like that... but this run was the yang to the race yin. So I chose to write about this instead. I still don't know how I do these mountain runs for hours on end but I can't put together a 3hr 15min at the end of an Ironman but I will figure it out. Runs like these are just how I bounce back from the post-race low.

Hitting the ridge of Trail Rider Pass was just as glorious as Buckskin and even a little warmer than the first. It is now almost noon.

This was my favorite section of the trail. We really opened up and got into an amazing flow. The mountains threw us through this valley with warm sun shine and a nice gentle breeze. They spoke to us in a way that two foreign people exchange laughs. Laughs are universal throughout the world even if they can't speak to each other with words. It was like the way babies will instinctually dance or bop their heads when music is playing... This isn't a learned behavior. It is just what feels right and needs no further description.

"It is awesome to be warming up a bit, eh?" I declared to Patrick...

"Oops... my bad." I thought as we jumped right through the river thwarting the trail.

At least I clean my legs off? We refilled bottles via a water filter at the next river. I am not sure if the filter actually worked or not but I think I was doing it right... If I come down with jhardia next week I will know what it's from... worth it though.

The trail beats on to Frigid Air Pass. Mile 17.5. 12,400feet high. It lives up to it's name even in August.

Can you follow the trail down the switchbacks...

We got asked more than once by back packers and hikers, "Where is the rest of your stuff? Are you guys doing the whole loop in a day?" 
After we smiled or laughed to confirm, they'd reply, "That's crazy!"
That got me thinking... and it gave me the opportunity to perch myself on top a soap box for a minute: What's crazy to me is that these breathtaking trails are out there all the time and more people are NOT running them! These pictures are all of real things, damnit... Go see them. Or something like them. As often as possible.
I am convinced that the opposite of happiness is not sadness. Happiness and sadness go hand and hand with one another and are both feelings that deserve equal attention. Just as the opposite of love is not hate. As the Lumineers sang me through a break up a while back, "The opposite of love is indifference." The opposite of happiness is definitely not sadness... but boredom. The realization of time passing is a horrendous thought to me.

 Things are looking up at this point. 

Yup... I did just pull that pun off. One more pass to climb...

 Maroon Pass came next right about at mile 20. It was welcomed. We had been running a while. And were ready to cruise back down to the trail head. We were both smart enough not to mention how ready we were to be head back and I am convinced if we did, something else may have come up to make that a little more difficult!

 

 It was all downhill from there. Everything in me rejoiced. Except for my quads... They screamed at me to keep going up but they were out voted by every other part of my body. It was like the youngest sibling trying to negotiate their way out of sitting on the hump of the middle seat on a long trip in the car with the AC broken... probably to a funeral.

 

Passing Crater Lake. 2 miles to go.

 

Closing the lollipop. 1.4 miles to go and we were still running! Luckily the moose was off the trail...

Finish line. A little over 9hrs. 27 miles. 8,000ft of elevation gain between 10,000 and 12,500 ft.

Mount of the Holy Cross: Blindly Taking Baby Steps

(Preamble): after writing this and reading it thru, it reads more like a diary entry to me than a usual story of mine. It's not a long read but not a quick read: There are a lot of pictures at the end so fear not of the tiny scroll bar on the right, oh yee of little attention span... but the moral of my self centered ramblings is in the last two paragraphs if you are as attention deficited as me and want to fast forward and just look at pictures... yay pictures...(click to make them bigger)!

"This is going to be your last piece if you keep farting all ride." Suz groaned as she handed me a piece of toasty focaccia bread from the passenger seat. "And I won't be walking behind you all day, that's for sure." She rolled the window down a crack.

I shrugged my shoulders and glanced back at her with a chunk of the tasty loaf still hanging out of my mouth. It was quarter to four in the morning and we were cruising up Vail Pass in a Honda-CRV Zipcar with our packs ready for the day and iced coffees that just weren't fairing well at all in the battle against the inhumanely early wake up call.

That was pretty much the extent of our conversation on our way to the trailhead for the first half of the ride. I was exhausted. The second half of the ride was even less conversation as we switch places on the side of I-70 and I promptly fell back asleep as soon as I reclined the passenger seat.

I awoke to the rumbling of the car as we turned onto a bumpy, seemingly vertical,  dirt road. We swapped places again and the next 8 miles to the trailhead took over a half an hour to navigate. The fog was thick and we had no idea where we were and couldn't see more than 20-30feet (which we later agreed was for the best). Finally though, little city Zipcar reached 10,314ft, the muddy trailhead, but most importantly for yours truly, the toilet.

The Zipcar was clearly out of place in the parking lot full of Subarus and Jeeps which was true to form in the land of the 14ers. It wasn't an ideal ride for the road but it was the only option. My old beat up pick up truck didn't make the cut a few months ago as I methodically started to whittle possessions out of my life with a goal of being as little "tied-down" or "limited" by my belongings as possible. I am not quite sure what started this urge of mine to downsize but it just felt right. As the truck was replaced by the pedals; the house was rented out and I down sized to a small apartment. There was no end-game or rhyme or reason at the time; it just felt like the right thing to do. I got rid of a ton of crap and clutter I don't even know why I had in the first place.

I also quit a pretty cushy, lucrative, secure sales job last year and took a pay cut to try a role in the construction world. I have honestly no idea why. Blindly taking baby steps... I guess I was just bored and unknowingly unfulfilled. I don't really enjoy construction management but I am good at negotiation and talking to people (read: babysitting with a dash of common sense). I knew I wasn't going to be thrilled with the job because I am never thrilled with any job but, (1) I used what I had to convince someone that I'd be good at the job; and (2) it was going to get me a little closer to where I wanted to be... out west in Colorado. Construction was/is booming out here (I am here now). The next baby step was trying to get help with relocation. I didn't want a huge salary, I just wanted to be relocated. I negotiated a trade off with yet another employer that deep down, I knew I wasn't going to enjoy, but at least they would pay for me to get out to where I wanted to be. More baby steps.

But I honestly gave the new position a serious effort. In the end the pay vs hours sacrificed wasn't worth it to me. And finally realizing that after the methodical whittling of "stuff" my only true expenses were housing and food - these were manageable for me and there is an outline of a plan set in place. So about two weeks ago I up and quit. It'd be a gross and untrue statement to say that I wasn't nervous about the future a bit or that I had thoughts of jumping back on board the traditional work 9-5 grind but I just don't think anyone out there values my time as much as I value my time. And after writing this, it just reaffirmed to me that everything is not only going to be OK but also pretty freakin' awesome.

The plan that Suz and I vaguely set in place was a 12 mile hike along the north ridge trail to the summit of Mt. of the Holy Cross. It is not an insanely difficult climb - neither one of us have any actual climbing equipment, let alone hiking boots, but it definitely isn't a walk in the park. We packed the bags, set the intention, and tried to prep ourselves as best we could. We couldn't control the fog that rolled over and minimal visibilty, the potential for thunderstorms that rolled in the morning of, or the colder than normal temperatures. We hastily checked the weather but didn't pay it the attention it deserved. The forecast wasn't great 70% chance of thunderstorms. Rain probable. But we were both there, at the trailhead, having already woken and drove 2.5hrs so we were likely going to at least start barring something crazy.

The only problem was we were both just plain exhausted. Early wake up calls aren't a huge deal for me to fight thru usually but this time was just a butt-kicker. "Just a quickie... then we will go... if you still want..." I said as my left hand put the drivers seat horizontal, my right hand slid it all the way back, my eyes shut, and my mind hit it's own off switch immediately.

We both woke up 50minutes later and our 7am start time was long gone. "UUUUUUGGGGGGHHHHH...." seemed to just instinctively come out of my tired jaw bones. The nap set us back so much that we knew at the time we weren't going to summit the mountain.

"Yup..." Suz replied drowsily wiping her eyes open, "but let's just take a few steps and see what happens. We probably won't make it all the way but we drove all this way and ate an entire loaf of bread  - we need to do something. We ditched the sunglasses and put on the rain gear. It wasn't raining more so than the cloud that engulfed us was just "clouding"... (as clouds often do)...  the moisture just kind of condensed on us. Neither one of us really wanted to start the 12 mile journey to 14,011ft but neither one of us wanted to be the reason that the other didn't actually do it. I am not sure who said which but there was a number of exchanges along the lines of, "Do you want to still do this?" and "I guess so, if you do, but I am OK if you don't want to" then, "Seriously, it's OK if you don't want to keep going"... until we both knew the other wasn't going to confide to consolidation tactics.

"A few steps but we will definitely turn back if things get too crappy..." the first mile was steep but clicked by pretty quickly. "I wonder what I am going to be thinking at this point on the way back..." I always tend to think when I start a long out-and-back. The trail ascends thru the trees for the next half a mile then dips back down to 10,000ft at mile 3 so you have the pleasure of starting it all over again after crossing a river. We hadn't seen any other hikers on the trail up until this point. Being pretty green, this worried me but I didn't open my mouth to let it worry my counterpart up ahead. Instead we talked about how weird it would be if you sneezed and farted at the same time, wondered what an apple-mushroom (not an actual thing) would taste like, and confirmed that it would be cool if the Olympics had an "average" person compete alongside all the athletes so people could appreciate how awesomely talented the Olympians are. You know, normal hiking stuff.

We saw our first person coming in the opposite direction.
"How is it up there?!" We asked with a little life implying he made it to the top.
"Didn't make it up today. There's some nasty weather rolling in but once you get up to 12,000ft there's a good pond you can filter water from..." he said in reply confirming our newbie-status.
"Oh cool! Thanks bro. Have a good day." We both didn't even really acknowledge the first part of his statement because we were too busy laughing at the fact that we didn't have a filter. Just three liters of water; two in a bottle and one in the bladder of my pack.

The trail is very manageable to the 4mile mark. We passed two more chicks that look pretty bad-ass hiker type.
"These clouds are crazy, huh?"

"Yeah, we stopped and turned around about a mile from the summit. It started to get nasty. Maybe next time. We overheard that there was even worse stuff coming in soon. Be careful."
"Ugh, thanks! Have a good one."

We started to worry. We weren't that cold yet but after hearing these reports from people who looked a lot more experienced at this stuff. Two more couples passed; two more reports of not hitting the summit. "How bad could it get? This stuff isn't horrible. Let's keep going a little further." It was good to hear Suz's encouragement as we broke the tree line and the wind delivered it's first blows. The trail deviously steepens at the 4 mile mark and gains about 1,000ft thru some dizzying switchbacks.

We finally crossed paths with a semi-positive smile. "How'd you hit it?" I inquired positively. "Ugh, made it up to the top but it's hardly worth it. You can't see a thing. It's too bad. Good luck though. Pressure is falling."

Suz looked at me with a glance that I knew said, "How good is a rainy summit without a view?" I was thinking the same. The dirt trail turns to even steeper rock steps. The fifth mile is straight up gaining 1500ft. We still couldn't see a damn thing except the next few steps. This time it was my turn to return the favor and spur Suz along a little. We knew there was a false summit a little after mile five and I used this to keep her spirits up. "If you're not cold or dizzy we should definitely make it to the false summit." I said speaking over the gusts of wind. My hands we starting to get really cold.

She replied only by taking more steps upward. We couldn't see the cairns marking the trail that were often only 20-30ft apart and we got of the trail a number of times. This worked against us not only as a moral blow to the mind but also causing us to climb with hands on the rocks. The rocks were cold. The hands got colder even thru the gloves. Three more people passed us one by one with negative reports of either turning around early or not being able to see anything from the top. All in all we got about 8 of these pessimistic reports over the course of the hike.

We hit the false summit right around 11:30am; about 4hrs since we said, "Let's take a few steps." Right as the trail leveled off, I stopped dead in my tracks and my jaw dropped.
"What's up? Did you see a ghost or something?" Suz asked.
Silence. I pointed thru the rocks at what I could only describe as "the opposite of a ghost". The thick grey fog thinned out just enough to reveal an ungodly silhouette of what I refused to believe was the rest of the climb. I only responded to Suz's inquirey by pointing in silence with my eyes; conveying with my dead-pan stare to look behind her. She would later tell me that she had never ever seen me so purely scared before. She was right. The ghastly site of the final mile of this mountain thru clouds that were now raining on us, albeit lightly, was the mountain saying, "What have you got?"

"Are we good here?" my now beady eyes said to Suz. She answered with a laser like stare to the next cairn and a murmur, "Next rock pile."

A couple more baby steps and we were there; still cold, still wet. Another passerby. "How is it up there?" I inquired.
"Just an accomplishment thing, I guess. You can't see the hand in front of your face. But you have a half a mile of ridgeline then a half a mile of scrambling so you should be there in about 45."

I am a sucker for a ridge line and even though I really couldn't see the cold fingers of the hand in front of my face. We were at 13,100ft. No stopping now. I even said to Suz, "This wind is blowing pretty hard. These clouds are either going to dump on us or the sky will open up. Whatever is going to happen to us, I think it should happen at the summit." We marched on with more steps. The same steps we took at the start. The ridge line went by fast.


The last half a mile involved more getting off trail due to lack of sighting cairns. However, "it" was happening. "It" was happening so awesomely that I yelled like the same little kid that was scared just an hour previously, "IT'S HAPPENING!" The sky was opening up a little. We could see a few glimpses of the trial we came up. HOLY SHIT. HOLY CROSS. But how long was it going to last?

We both scrambled up a little faster. The view was flickering on and off.

At sleep-overs in junior high after we were done lighting things on fire in the backyard or running around town with a universal remote changing the neighbors TV station thru the window we were gathered around the host's TV dialed to PayPerView channel. The channel would come in fuzzy or scrmbled until you actually called to pay for the feature. Getting caught calling to order these types of channels that only air between midnight and 4am would surely lead to a grounding so that left us eagerly and patiently trying to catch a glimpse of the scenes of the show thru fuzzy filters and "TV snow". That was this feeling all over again.

We hit the narrow summit and it was like Henry Winkler beat his fist on the jukebox. The skies opened up and the sun congratulated us with some warm rays. Cold hands warmed. Smiles immediately beamed. Neither one of us actually believing the epic order of "untimely" events that resulted in us being at the summit at the exact moment the clouds decided to peel away. We had the whole summit of a fourteen thousand eleven foot mountain to ourselves.

Little did we know that getting off to a "late" start was actually the only perfect time to start that day. We didn't know that not being able to see the summit of the massive pile of rocks was actually the only reason we made it up; both agreeing afterwards that we most likely would not have continued if we actually saw the terrain we needed to cross. It was "unfortunate" that we didn't check the weather more carefully, but if we did, we would have seen the forecasts and bailed not knowing that the forecasts were wrong. Along the way we planned on hiking about 20-25min/mile but fell far below that pace; this was definitely slower than we wanted but neither of us knew that out 40min/mile was the precise speed needed to have the most epic turn of events and scenery.


We were the only people to witness the view from the top that day. The clouds rolled back in and it started to rain about a half an hour after we headed on the reverse trek home. We blindly took baby steps in the direction we wanted to go having faith that we would end up where we needed to be. Sometimes you may think a lot of things are "going wrong" in life but if you take a step back and know how to look at events objectively, as big or small as they may seem, I think you will most always find that you are exactly where you need to be. You may not even ever see the result of "right" in the "wrong" that happened but all you can do and control at that very moment is how you will react to the situation. Take another baby step in the direction you want to go. Make it to the next cairn (even if you can't see it at the time). Detaching yourself from "the way it was supposed to be" in your mind is one of the most powerful tools you can have over your attitude, emotions, and ultimate situation in life.

Nothing is ever perfect and the timing is never right.

Or is everything exactly where it needs to be and the time is now?

Isn't it funny to think about that when you are driving a car in the middle of the night, there is so much darkness. The headlights only shine on the road immediately 50ft-ish in front of you. But if you only worry about what you can see within the lights you can turn that 50ft of visibility into a trip of a thousand miles. Focus your energy on the things you can handle right now; the rest will fall into place as you need it to whether you know it or not.

The following pictures were taken on the way down from the summit. It was like someone blindfolded us on the way up. Then revealed these amazing sights on the way down. Enjoy. We did.