Category Archives: Uncategorized

Moonlit Nights


Stop to consider what you are doing. Fall silent and listen. Have a seat and question. To you, yourself will be revealed.

You will find yourself in the pool you glance upon as you silence the ripples of noise that dance across your surface. You may gaze at your reflection and see into your heart in murmured silence, like the wind that whispers over quiet moonlit nights.

Your dreams will play for you versions of yourself over and over, repeat archetypes spinning indifference within riveting plotlines. You see behind you your father or mother and cringe with vigilance, for life – HA! – is merely sweet merciless vengeance.

Hidden in images of temperament and demeanor, lies all of your sufferings, but if known gives meaning. Give light to your shadows, your dark ponds of grievance. Shine hope into past wrongs, let change come like the seasons.

Let go of the parts that no longer serve you. Burn off the deadwood, but know it’s what made you. Like our ancestors who died, and we live forth in their absence. We stop and reflect, to live on in our actions.


We Are Our Felt Experiencing

Phenomenology "We are our felt experiencing.” ~ Gendlin Ecopsychology primarily deals in the realm of that osmotic membrane; the contact between the inner and the outer; The cycle in which exchange takes place. It is where dualism dissolves. It is the realm of experience in which we relax our boundaries just enough to let something new in. Final contact. Where our feelings, our bodily-felt ground of experience is satisfied. Where we surrender into an orgasm, give in to grief, gain a new skill, learn something, receive a message, or flow into an expressive movement. It is the place in our experience where we sink into the sounds of the river rushing below during a rest in the warm sun. Ecopsychology concerns itself with phenomenology with the understanding that the meaning of life is that it is to be lived. That we find meaning through our felt sense of the world around us, that the self is simply the experiential cycle in motion, that we are our felt experiencing. “What we implicitly feel at any given moment takes all of this into account, so that the need contained in our felt sense is the one that is most urgent or highest priority for coping with our environment carrying our lives forward at that point.” Begin to awaken to the messages your body is sharing. It is here you will find your deeper self and lost connection to the world at large. #ecopsychology #bodyawareness #somatics #phenomenology #healingtheself #theself

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Phenomenology “We are our felt experiencing.” ~ Gendlin

Ecopsychology primarily deals in the realm of that osmotic membrane; the contact between the inner and the outer; The cycle in which exchange takes place. It is where dualism dissolves. It is the realm of experience in which we relax our boundaries just enough to let something new in. Final contact. Where our feelings, our bodily-felt ground of experience is satisfied. Where we surrender into an orgasm, give in to grief, gain a new skill, learn something, receive a message, or flow into an expressive movement. It is the place in our experience where we sink into the sounds of the river rushing below during a rest in the warm sun. Ecopsychology concerns itself with phenomenology; with the understanding that the meaning of life is that it is to be lived. That we find meaning through our felt sense of the world around us, that the self is simply the experiential cycle in motion, that we are our felt experiencing. “What we implicitly feel at any given moment takes all of this into account, so that the need contained in our felt sense is the one that is most urgent or highest priority for coping with our environment carrying our lives forward at that point.” Begin to awaken to the messages your body is sharing. It is here you will find your deeper self and lost connection to the world at large.

The Bodily Ground of Experience

The Bodily Ground of Experience: "only human beings have come to a point where they no longer know why they exist… they have forgotten the secret knowledge of their bodies, their senses, their dreams." ~ John (Fire) Lame Deer How do we come to extract meaning from our world? This question begs to be asked in a time when our purpose to be alive seems lost in the reflection of our own humanity. To return to the bodily ground of experience, to interpret the felt ground of the world with a privileged part of nature; our body, is to receive the intelligence of nature and the purpose of your life process. Somatics. The body is a finely ordered living responsiveness, always seeking some sort of symbolic completion for its needs or intentions. When we equate the body's needs with irrational tendencies, or sin, is to repress your own soul. It is to deanimate the self, as was systematically done by the time of the Age of Reason. Animality was considered then to be the root of madness; thereby returning to a state of chaos. But the irony is that if our nature is chaotic, then our experience has no intrinsic order. Yet all we must do is pick up the sand of a river bank and feel the weight of millions of parts slide through our fingers to understand that nature is the definition of order and organization. "Your body enacts your situations and constitutes them largely before you can think how. When your attention joins the living, you can pursue many more possibilities and choices than when you merely drive your body as if it were a machine like the car." ~ Eugene Gendlin #wetooarenature #ecopsychology #eugenegendlin #somatic #body #bodyintelligence #mindfullness #order #chaos

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The Era of Hypocrisy and How to break free to the next Golden Era.


  1. the practice of claiming to have moral standards or beliefs to which one’s own behavior does not conform; pretense.
    Greek hupokrisis ‘acting of a theatrical part,’ from hupokrinesthai ‘play a part, pretend,

We’re all hypocrites. All of us. Even me.

Hypocrisy is a special kind of pretending. There is the pretending which is born from the art of theatre, in which a person is acting out a character other than their own, as was the original meaning of this word as it was used in Ancient Greece. Then there is the pretending which seems to have greatly evolved from such theatre. And that is the modern use of Hypocrisy.

Today, we participate in the Hypocrisy which more closely aligns with the concept self-manipulation. A hypocrite today is no longer a person acting out theatrical character. In other words the intent is not known, the intent is clouded in deceit. And more often than not, the intent is even hidden behind the curtains from the acting agent of the intent. The self-manipulation then evolved further into self-deceit.

Self Deceit.



And we are all living it. Self-deceit goes all the back to the Garden of Eden. It’s source of origin lies within the primordial soup of the conscious human mind as we awoke to our own awareness and found ourselves recording, for the first time, our very own existence. This time in human history, one that predates any historic accuracy, was an exciting and devastating transition for our species. It was a birth and a death all at once. It was a confrontation and awakening to the infinite source of Nirvana that many of our ancestors feared this spiritual actualization that they denied it’s full consequences. With the birth of our awakening, came all of humanity as we know it, and much of that history has been dominated by a sociological programming meant to prevent us from ever knowing it had occurred – thus severing the eternal bond between us and nature. We are all deceiving ourselves. We’ve done such a good job of it that we go along living out this belief based on deception, perpetuating a collective society’s conscious into oblivion, and we’re taking the rest of the precious planet with us.

The deception, or belief, or illusion, or dream, or maya – call it what you will – is this:

1) Everything in the past is gone, non-existent, dead.

2) All of the answers to our problems, discontent, diseases, depressions, anxieties, fears, conflict, and confusion, lie in the future. If we just keep pushing on through, and search for innovative new ways to adapt to a rapidly changing world with technologies and competitive markets, we’ll be okay.

Even Stephen Hawkings, one of the most respected international scientific figures said just the other day that this world, according to the numbers, is without a doubt doomed for disaster within the next 1,000 to 10,000 years.

1,000 years ago the first crusades began their wage across the globe, and the gospel of Christianity spread like a thick oil over all of humanity. Now it is found everywhere. Now we are extracting crude oil under the very same gospel: the gospel of hypocrisy.

You feel it. You know it’s there: this pit you can’t shake that sits in your gut waiting to be purged, but you swallow hard and curl up denying the pain you hold onto – the pain that has been passed down to you, inherited from generation to generation since the era of conscious awakening. That somehow you are not fully living, you never did. You were born and immediately after the trauma settled you began to feel the sensual persona of the universe all around you, but that feeling slowly diminished into a dark cellar. How disappointing.

I propose a single and simple solution to this life-long problem. Accept you are a hypocrite. Let that acceptance sink in. Stop fighting it. Then apologize for denying your own nature. And once you have finished apologizing, forgive yourself for playing out a false destiny. Once you have done that, and that could take some time, you will be ready to connect back to your nature, your truth, your destiny.

When we make a mistake, when others make a mistake, we must accept, apologize, and forgive, before we can ever move on. We have been playing out a tens of thousands of years of denial and anger. And we are going to have to accept it before it’s too late. Worry about yourself, and then help others. We can do this together, we can’t do it apart.

Racism and the Prison system in America: the 13th Amendment.

The title of Ava DuVernay’s extraordinary and galvanizing documentary 13TH refers to the 13th Amendment to the Constitution, which reads “Neither slavery nor involuntary servitude, except as a punishment for crime whereof the party shall have been duly convicted, shall exist within the United States.” The progression from that second qualifying clause to the horrors of mass criminalization and the sprawling American prison industry is laid out by DuVernay with bracing lucidity. With a potent mixture of archival footage and testimony from a dazzling array of activists, politicians, historians, and formerly incarcerated women and men, DuVernay creates a work of grand historical synthesis. Now Streaming on Netflix. (Youtube)
How could there still be Racism in this country today? Follow this question back to the beginning of it all, Slavery in the U.S., work through the history all the way up to today, and there you will find your answer.
It’s never too late to bring greater awareness into your understanding of this world, but now would be a really good time as a great deal of the world stares in bafflement at the man who was just elected President of the land of the free, and elected by those who perpetuate a long-standing strategically created myth that those of color are savage, dangerous, criminals, second class citizens, thugs; violent and lesser. People of Color in this country have been living under terror and trauma generation after generation after generation as a country bares down spitting the falsities of a sinister image to protect a crippling economy:
The truth being that the abolishment of slavery allowed every slave to be released of their forced labor, the backbone to the southern economy. The South faced a terrible economic depression. If something was not put in to replace the now dissipated work force, the southern States would face a economic collapse.
Thus, the 13th Amendment was enacted during Reconstruction, and between that time, leading all the way to the Jim Crowe laws and segregation, all the way up to the American privatized prison system of the 21st century, between all this time, People of color were selectively criminalized, thrown into prison, where they, as criminals, lost their rights as free citizens. This was a loophole discovered in the 13th Amendment:
“Neither slavery nor involuntary servitude, except as a punishment for crime whereof the party shall have been duly convicted, shall exist within the United States, or any place subject to their jurisdiction.”( Amendment XIII, Section 1 of the United States Constitution).
The South gained back its free labor force as propaganda was spread of the criminal nature of African Americans, and countless, once free men and women, were thrown back into slavery as punishment for their crimes. These convictions were often such things like petty theft or even made up entirely for the purpose of quickly rebuilding the southern economy after the civil war.
The image stuck in the minds of the White as they saw many colored men and women being carried off to prison for “deviant acts”. The propaganda worked so well that White people in the south started to believe it as truth: that these are people not to trust, to stay away from, and to fear.
Can you imagine? a majority of people that you have to live with every day of your life, sending such negative energy your way? It was terrorism. No other way to explain it. And that terrorism turned into trauma, that ever since has been passed down from generation to generation. Trauma – learned behavior often associated with a violent event that was, or perceived as, life-threatening. Nearly every African American, if not all, from the period between Reconstruction and WWII legitimately experienced their lives being threatened each and every day.
In fact, that inherited trauma gets re-lived with each generation. It is my learned behavior, INHERITED behavior, as I watched and observed so keenly with my newly forming conscious mind, the behavior of these adults surrounding me, and with that observation, even as I hear the words “we are all equal, I INHERIT behavior that says, “Do not trust African Americans”. So is the same for the other side: “Your life is in danger.”
This great lie born in America has caused both races to fear each other, to believe that the other wishes them harm. This is human programming. A computer can be programmed. A human mind can be programmed. A collective mass of human minds can be programmed. The reality of the very real racism that exists today is born from a lie told 170 years ago, over and over and over again until we all believed it, and we acted out the belief as if it were true, we created the reality of this intentional lie.
And it is still being played out by us all.
SO how do we stop the lie? How do we heal centuries of slavery and racism? We speak the truth out loud, and we do not falter, we repeat it over and over, and we do it in great numbers, so we cannot be ignored, and we shout BLACK LIVES MATTER because that is the TRUTH, and the more we shout it, express it, the greater this reality based on a lie will change, and we will live a reality based on truth. And we will all forgive ourselves now that we have found this Truth, and we will move on to a more Just future.
Stand Up. Act Out. When done in massive enough numbers, the country will change. Find solidarity. Find some message that you can connect with, find others who share that connection, and empower each other to Stand Up and express it!
Nothing changes if we stay silent.

Troubles with Trump

My biggest criticism of Trump’s Campaign is, of course, the basis of a philosophical principle .


The premise of his campaign can be found nestled in the simple message of his campaign’s slogan: Make America Great Again. Trump speaks about the greatness of this country as something that lies in the past. He declares that we must bring back the greatness this country once was. This is a divisive tool of speech to instill in the minds of people fundamental conservatism: to devoid people a vision for a better tomorrow because accordingly: greatness lies in the shadows of our past.

We should never, ever dwell in such conviction. To do so it to seize living. To do so is to justify the horrors of our past we are trying so desperately to heal from. To do so is to eliminate the pursuit of greatness. To idolize that which came before, is to seep in Narcissist’s pool of reflection for eternity.

The future is always just beyond the horizon. Greatness always lingers in the unknown. It is beyond our own conviction. A great leader is not one who has all the answers. A great leader is one who is brave enough to admit they do not, yet stand strong in the face of the unknown.

When there are millions of Americans whose collective conscious are supporting a singular voice of certainty, then we are at risk of becoming estranged from the path of greatness.

Within a Single Cigarette

My body was feeling uncomfortably tight after sitting on an uncomfortable couch inside an uncomfortable stagnant heat trapped in my house. I stepped outside to enjoy a cigarette and the cool night breeze.

An added bonus were the clear starry skies and my friendly black house cat who sat perched on the ledge of the stone steps leading up to the house. I sat beside her, lit the embers of tobacco and sucked in the smooth soothing smoke.

I looked down at that black cat who looked out down the street at all of the world that she could see. I followed her gaze and peered into her small world she roams at night and day, wondering at the simplicity of her thought, before arching my neck back to stare upon the stars.

Those stars. Those stars I know to be millions of light years away. Some billions. Those stars I know to be massive incandescent gases, some wobbling by effect of much smaller  planets orbiting them. I stared up at those stars and realized I could look at them from so far away, but did not have to live in a world where I wondered what they were.

I knew.

I could imagine with great accuracy what each of those stars actually looked like, because my species, human kind, dared to look beyond our own small world. We dared to look beyond the perseverance of our domain.

We dared to know more than was necessary just to survive.

But at what cost?

Every culture has looked up at the stars. Every person has looked up at the sun and wondered how its light shines upon our form and we are made in its image. Every parent has observed their children grow into their own, separate from them, internalized into the understanding of eternity at last.

Every culture has formed elaborate stories around their findings of the world; of the universe, of their own understanding for our existence – how we came to be, and where are we going.

The society is the father, bringing support and stability to the people. Structure, the backbone to the mechanisms of life. And the mother, she nurtures that life with constant love. And so we observe the grandest phenomenons of our universe take part in all aspects of life. Certain universal truths discovered independently and in different ways from culture to culture.

These truths become encoded into our stories, recordings of our existence; and thus our continued existence is testimony to our pursuit of immortality…. not as individuals, but as a species, as a creature of the earth, and since we cannot survive without the continued existence of our fellow creatures, then it no longer is just a pursuit of one single species.


We are merely the ambassadors of the collective life of this planet. We have been selected (naturally mind you) to be “awakened” to our own self-realization of life, through the very complex and rare evolutionary and physical leap of certain random yet precise DNA mutations to persuade the advantage for a correct patterning of coding that allows our body’s to do what they do today:

observe beyond our present world and wander within the realms of past and future with ease and fluency.

And each culture that has come and gone and united and ripped apart, left behind memories of their greatest humanitarian accomplishments and saddest tragedies, searching for a sign of why we are the way we are.

Why we have been “chosen”.

And every collective identity of culture has struggled with this special feeling, this strange power. And every culture has constructed laws and morals and taboos to help contain this struggle as we, from one generation to the next, one era to the next, unravel the deep mysterious answer to our question: that in someway, this answer, this source for our existence, will somehow reveal to us our purpose and reason to continue on this path, an answer to why we should persevere through the pain and suffering all around us. That it is happening for a reason, that it is only a phase in our efforts to detangle from the confusion we were born into.

Humanity was born, and we were left on our own to find out why.

And now. Now, all these stories, these social codes upheld in every culture, these ways of living based on the necessity for survival, but also based on the pursuit for immortality – to transcend the primal realm of survival, to find a way out, into the bliss of eternity. That we will cheat death, not as an individual, not as a species, but as a representative of Earth.

A hero is born. The Gods await.

My cigarette ends in one last spindle of smoke rising to the heavens and swept away in the strengthening winds and I travel back down from the stars and see my cat still staring down the long road, caught and suspended in the present moment.

“we’re in this together” I say aloud to her as I reach to pet her warm, bony back.

she sinks into my touch and begins to purr as if to say, “Well then don’t fuck it up.”





My brain feels like a boiled egg. I could only sleep in about an hour. The sun has risen, but Hilo remains quiet and asleep. It’s a three day weekend, and the hard workers of the Big Island lay in their beds weighted by the consuming hours of  past labors.

My stomach feels messy from all the pizza I ate yesterday, and that’s certainly the same reason my head is sloshing with low frequency pains. I wake up not feeling all that into myself. It comes and goes like the seasons, like the rains, like the planets circling nearby.

The Hilo rain this morning drifts in from the ocean in soft waves. I shuffle around the quiet of the house, make my coffee, and hang upside down on my roommate’s inversion table, trying to release the tension coiled around my spinal column. I contemplate what I’ll try and do today, trying to brush away impending thoughts to be present in the relaxing and restorative day off I have ahead. I just finished another enduring week of work with my summer gig: a team leader for a small group of up and coming young adults passionate about their home land of Hawai’i. Each week we visit a different site of managed reserve land in which any various conservation project is being implemented through whatever funding has been allocated for that place.

We as a team have been working hard, and I’ve been given the great gift of total trust in leading this group of 17 and 18 year olds – an age in life I remember all too well. An age, in some ways, I myself am still afraid to let go of. That turning point. That severance. Excited to be my own person, but deathly afraid of what sacrifices must be made. Safety. Innocence. Comfort.

The rain thickens and drowns out any sounds of civilization from the city as the Hilo town begins to wake up. I dreamt of Mauna Kea last night and wanting its solitude, but all my waking life seemed to be up there with me.

The summer has come into its fullest and all seems busy with activity during these longer days. My family feels distant along the pacific coast of North America, and I cringe with homesickness during these soft gentle mornings as I lay outside of their proximity. A normal routine of emotions spill in and I allow them to fill before flushing them back out.

The house cat comes bounding in with the heavy rain on her silky black fur. She cries outside my door and awaits my response, smelling the particles of dust and debris on the floor around my doorway. She stands at the threshold of my room, uncertain if she will enter, or let me be, licking and drying her dampened paws.

Next week I head out to the historical Kuamo’o Battle field and burial grounds of Pili Kauwela in South Kona. A place of heavy energy I am told. A place with memories of the deaths of not only many people, but a whole philosophy and religion: the ʻAikapu system.

I do not know what next week will bring in its entirety for me or my team, but I anticipate the immersion into a place that will tell a story of an important lesson the struggles Hawaiʻi faced in knowing how to respond to the growing pressures of a Western, Euro-American influence.




The Hilo Marathon: A Rambling Run.

20 hours before the Marathon. I have a slight headache and a weird spotty rash radiating up my left leg. Yesterday my left ankle felt all sorts of funky during a 3 mile “stretch of the ol’ leg”.

I’m sitting in a freezing cold cafe, huddled in as many layers as I brought, cupping my hands to warm my breath between typed sentences. I’m in Hawaii, for Christ’s sake.

I need to get home, on my bicycle. In the rain. It’s a long hilly ride. Gonna get soaked. Don’t really want to use the energy so soon before the race. But I messed up. Crashed in town last night at a friend’s. Left all my running attire at home. Thinking I’d just bike up there this morning. Great. Gonna catch a cold biking home in the rain, get soaked, grab my gear, bike back to town, get soaked again, and crash in town tonight, when I am supposed to.

I’m not a very good planner. I’m an even worse linear thinker. It just doesn’t come natural to me. I’ve had to learn. I’ve had to train myself. And then before I know it I’m walking around acting like someone else and losing touch with my own self. It’s not easy for folks like me. The cards are stacked against me. I look around and see everyone moving from one appointment to the next, one destination to another. Always preoccupied with the next thing to do. And I either gotta keep up or get run over. Most of the time I just run to get outta the way.

Marathon day. 6:00 am start time. I’m wide awake at 0445. My friend Tyler and I spent the night at a friend’s closer to the starting line. We arrive with plenty of time. It’s dark out, and a light rain is keep things cool. I feel good. Really good. Did everything right the night before. Ate a high-fiber dinner of cooked vegetables, kalo, and sweet potatoes. I had the best poop of my light when I awoke, and another at the starting line. I was well hydrated.

I ran the marathon. I ran it in shoes that felt like dead weight after only 5 miles, soaked through by the rain, my ankles sloshing around sloppily. I could feel a repeat from 2014 when I last attempted the very same marathon course. And sure enough, at almost exactly the same spot, Mile 21, the 2nd metatarsal right at the ball of my right foot begins to act up.

And I’m tired.

I went out fast, because I’ve got some good 10k speed under my wings, but I didn’t have the endurance to keep it up for 26.2 miles. Only about 20 miles. 20 miles. I saw my past self in front of me when I hit that pinnacle mile marker. My past self stopped and took his shoes off and tried to run barefoot to offset the pain. I watched him make it about a mile, limping, then walking, then stopping. Mile 21. I pass the marker where My past self is sitting on the curb waiting for someone to pick him up. The pain is excruciating. I can feel his on top of my own pain.

I’ve slowed down to 8min/miles after running nearly 20 miles averaging 7min/miles. No one has passed me yet. I had been alone in the race since about mile 5. No one in front, no one behind. No one to motivate me, and I kept getting slower and slower. I reached the last turnaround point, fighting hard internally. I wondered what I Looked like to the aid station volunteers as I passed through, mumbling something about being in pain, but too afraid to stop, fearing I’ll never get going again.

The rain had passed and the sun was out in full force. I tried changing how my right foot was hitting the pavement to minimize the pain, but each time I attempted, a muscle in my leg cramped, and I’d let out a yelp and return to slamming my foot back on the balls of my feet. 5 miles to go. It proved to be the hardest five miles of my life. I started talking to myself out loud… “come one Jon-Erik! Don’t you DARE think about stopping. Not this time. Come on! Keep going! Fucking DO IT.”

I trudged through the next mile as the course left the main road onto a quieter street. It was lonely. My body wanted to stop so badly. But I wasn’t having any of it. There were cones along the side of the road, spaced roughly 50 meters apart. I just focused on one cone at a time. I couldn’t think about the 4 to 5 miles left. Too long. The finish line felt impossibly far away. But the cones. I could do the cones.

Another mile down and I joined back with the main road. My eyes were beginning to roll in their sockets. I had a hard time focusing my vision. I didn’t really need it though. I snatched a Gu pack at the next aid station, and cup of water which I barely got down. I still gotta learn how to drink water while running. You’d think I’d have figured that one out.

Right after the aid station my right leg from achilles up through the hamstring stiffened without notice. I stopped in my tracks, shamelessly, and stretched it out, before shuffling along. I checked my watch. That last mile took 9 minutes. Holy shit. I’m not gonna make. Bad sign. When that thought creeps in, things get can real ugly. But I was in luck. I had my past self with me. No, he was behind me. And he was yelling at me from a distance. You can’t give up. You did that last time. No way are you giving up twice. And I also had my friends who I trained with and were in the race. One in front of me, probably about to cross the finish line. And one behind me, probably about to catch me any minute. If it wasn’t for them, I could get away with stopping. No one would know. I could slide away. Just my past self and me sitting on the curb…

2 miles to go. A guy in blue catches me and passes by. My friend Tyler isn’t too far behind. I cross the street at the Ice Ponds and head onto Banyan drive. I try picking up the pace once I can look over my shoulder and see Tyler. He’s with a guy named Michael, a solid runner from New York. They pass by me, Michael full of energy blasting positive vibes at Tyler who’s eyes are dead locked focused on something in front of him. They pass me under the shade of the Banyans and Michael shouts at me to join them. “Now’s the time, give it all you got!” He says something about Tyler kicking ass the whole way; how he decided to stay with Tyler until the end. I’m pumped up by his energy and try to stay with them. It would feel great to finish alongside Tyler and Michael. But my leg cramps up again and instead I come to another screeching halt. One mile from the finish. Half of me feels delusional from the pain and lack of electrolytes. The other half feels euphoric with visions of finishing the race that defeated me last time. I’m standing there. One mile to go, Marathoners and Half-Marathoners are passing the opposite direction. The marathoners still have 10 miles to ago. They are in a very different world than me right now as I’m less than a mile away and can’t get my legs to cooperate, while they’re trucking along slowly and steadily.

I start running again. I pass Suisan, cross over the Wailoa river and coast down to the finish line. 3:17:58. One minute behind Tyler. I can’t fucking wait to get these shoes off of my feet.

I finished. It feels good. Just a couple months of training and a respectable time. I go find Mike who ran a stellar 2:57. He’s all smiles. And so is Tyler. We all finished, and overall ran right a pace we all wanted. See you guys next race.