Musings on grief, darkness, and friendship
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I treasure the moments when I get a burst of happiness, a moment that makes me really feel alive. I don’t experience this as much as I’d like. When I do, it’s often a literal surge of endorphins during a challenging run, but sometimes I get it in other ways too: music; building honest connection with friends; petting a purring cat; listening to good comedy; and perhaps most importantly for this specific website, photography.
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How did I get here?
Here. The end of the line on a remote trail, winding high through slickrock to a lone natural arch, with an expansive, breathtaking view beyond. Other days, “Here” has been a winter wonderland, my footsteps blazing fresh tracks in snow that newly frosts the evergreens above, creating a magical, quiet softness and all I can hear is the crunch of each step.
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Nothing goes as planned. When I first fell in love with running, I thought that a long term plan was about patience and determination, two things within my control. In a crazed, anxious state, I clicked “Complete Registration” on some races that sounded a little bit nuts, but I was excited and optimistic and probably a little bit manic, and I had a realistic strategy for how to get there.
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Oh just an update.
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