i-like-this-about-you

positivity breeds optimisms and many other feel good things within. things that eventually make their way into the outside world and start leaking into the lives of those around you.

a while back i stumbled across a website that at the time featured a 30 challenges for 30 days list so naturally, i bookmarked it. i've thought about it almost daily and have a fair amount of them i wish to complete.

beginning today, july 24, i will embark in thirty days of i-like-this-about-you notes/texts/emails. it will be someone different each day and they will not be predetermined or chosen. i will scroll through my contacts list, texts, or social media to choose someone.
it is too early to know exactly where this will go or lead to, but i'm sure it will bring forth something exciting. perhaps i will blog about it half way.

join me.

miles to go

miles.
often what have defined my days and weeks, my lows and peaks. there's been a constant of building and recovering for the past two years with a few weeks of breaks in-between.

but like the draught in the state i call home, i am living with one personally; a mileage draught. i am not injured or recovering, not any more anyway. i am building slowing in every which way. in mileage and in pace i am embarking in a conservative approach. my mind fighting me every day, my body confused between what it deeply wants and what it really needs.

can one still be an ultra runner without massive mileage in weeks, maybe months?

my feeds have been less and less crowded with running photos.

my friend jack cried out one morning,
"can't we just run and have it be fun?'

then there's the coyote bushido,
"if you're not having fun, you're doing it wrong."

there are two count-downs which i have not looked into in weeks that mark the only two races i am planning on for the rest of the year. i have been reluctant to see their shrinking numbers.

part of being an ultra runner, a huge part, is mental.
if i can stand to train my mind in times of uncertainty, i have taken a step in the right direction. a step of continuos forward motion.

i know i am strong, though i am not at my strongest right now.
i know that i am resilient and resourceful, powerful and determined.

miles.
for i have a vision of crossing a certain finish line with a smile and some tears.

The woods are lovely, dark and deep,   

But I have promises to keep,   

And miles to go before I sleep,   

And miles to go before I sleep.

Robert Frost

gracie

 the leaves move gracefully as they rustle through the front yard. the same wind that has kept her up all night, now softly brushes her hair away from her eyes as she shuts them one final time tonight.
time.
it becomes non existent as the smoke fills her lungs and she slowly drifts out of consciousness. time and time again the same scenario repeats itself.
time.
seconds and the ticking of the clock. minutes and the very drops of water that she could hear leaking from her studio's kitchen faucet. time and it's painful reminder that she is still here. will be here. will stay here; because where else could she go wandering off to unless she allows the smoke within? unless she allows herself the softened hours to drift within her own mind of tangled thoughts and insane spins. hours that could never turn to days because there was never enough smoke, never enough room to fully become transparent in a world so dark.

 so, the drift begins and she is calm. she starts off gradual as she floats over the sleeping sunflowers and whispering trees. her skin tingling from the present numbness now begins to feel the night's cool air that carries just a hint of jasmine scent. the moon still high above her and hundreds, thousands, of bodies laying down below her.
 she is light and clear minded, mellow and relaxed. all that could possibly be wrong or go wrong lays still below her in a magenta fury, only hours away.
 deep breaths and shaving of minutes leads to a deflation of sorts. she floats lower and lower until her feet can touch the ground and her skin burns again. attacked by heavy eyes and a pounding headache she lays down on the grass once again and awaits sunrise. awaits the sun's warmth that so graciously pushes away the burning tugging of the night's vicious anger. awake again to face a day of disappointments. a day of minutes. a day of truths.

lips that don't belong

lips that don't belong
unwanted and unsought they made their way into a dark room of innocence. betraying generations of relationships and closure. betraying the sickness that brought them near, they attacked.
maybe the room wasn't dark, maybe it went dark after. perhaps the head boiled over and overheated and vision was lost. the stars came out early and spun around the entire room.

anger. fear. helplessness.
strength. power. fight.

lips that don't belong
should stay that way. they should coward in fear in a corner of a lonely house knowing that they will be hunted, one way or another. knowing that they shall remain cold and chapped and to themselves.

lips that don't belong
though the head you are attached to is wanted, in all sorts of gore-filled vengeance, you will live on. for my story is her story is their story is yours. because i am tired of it. because my stomach turns and my head pounds. because the thought of simply existing in the same state makes me want to set it on fire.

right to live on
in peace, in love in security; of oneself, of your partner, of your neighbor.
the right to live above it and never in fear, never in shame, never in the dark.