certainties

Some thoughts are not meant to be remembered. a small epiphany that got lost somewhere behind all the things that need to get done, and all the faces that come your way.

timezone

the sun may rise a little earlier for you than for me,
but it still finds my window just the same.

we all move at different speeds,
you're already there-
i'll get there eventually.

Revolve

every moment, déjà vu. the way the colors run have me believing that the carousel never really ends, never stops beginning. we're always in transit, in transition, how many times I've been around I'm not sure. At least once, at least this one. when its over we'll get in line and wait quietly, patiently for our turn to reascend, as the attendant punches our tickets for another round.

Where we are?

Numb, numb, numb. The routine. The smiles, the coffee that gets us through the day. Our dreams on hold. Waiting to take shape. Have you ever had to wait forever for something? Imagine it. Knowing that it would come at the end of forever. Someday, someday we will be the people we always wanted to be. Tomorrow brings hope. Tomorrow filled with idealism. But when we wake, the truth shows, for miles and miles. Stuck in the same spot as yesterday. Maybe tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow.

Tiny Little Seams

the forgotten corners of your feet. those little calloused ridges. where the bottom of your pinkie toes rise abruptly, sharply, forming distinct lines that run the length of your baby digits.

That's where they sewed you up on your first day. oh no, not the doctor. not the day you were born. but the Maker. before you were even a possibility in the minds of man he sat forming you. casually, with one eye closed to help focus his perspective. his pipe puffing perfect little circles into that brisk autumn air.

a little courage, a bit of cowardice. some faith, some fate. happiness and sorrow. family and friends. truth and lies. and everything else that has filled all the moments of your life, all the way through to the end, before it even began.

and stitch by stitch you were sealed, your soul filling every ounce, personality resonating. waiting for the day where you opened your eyes to see, your ears to hear, your mouth to speak miracles back into the world that made you.

that day when you were finally finished, perfect in your imperfections, the skin melded. you were taken away to be a form, every inch of who you were meant to be, all the way down to those barely noticeable creases on the edges of your feet.

Unnoticed

its the first straw. that first tiny little fracture that's ignored.
but they add up. they expand.
and soon you and I are California falling into the pacific.

2nd hand sorrow

That kid with his heart on his sleeve. Something's not quite right. make him put that bleeding thing away. doesn't he know no one wants to see that? get him out of here. we don't need his troubles lingering in the air.

The Dampening Affect

Steps are silenced by the fall. Voices hushed. Lies and truth bear the same resemblance in the flurries. I forget who I am, where I am going. I forget my hunger, my fatigue. The quiet tells me that even time has stopped to listen, to wait, to wonder why we carry on the way we do.

Percocet Baby

A mouthful of pearly white pills smile back at me. The flow moves down warm ateries, up icy veins. She powders her nose with Bolivian snow. A greyed, opaque circus swirls behind brown eyes, glazed and swimming. Novacaine lines the wan cheeks, colors run south to hide. Chests rise to in the sweet air, lungs release exhaust, industrial factories burning deep in a knotted stomach. Vessels bulge desperately. High ways rise and fall, spreading to tips, filling crystallized finger and toenails. Time slows, gravity pulls. Chairs come out to play, dreaming of being baseball mits, catching numb jumpers, fallers. A orange mold of her body, slowly fills the prescription transparent skin unable to hide the truth.

Heart Your Cross

Out in the pacific. In Flander's fields. The beaches of Normandy. Bull Run.
Where they fell, and where they lie, miles apart.
where they rest and where they live, so close. so close.

Up in the Air

I wonder about so many things.
I wonder about you, miles up. I know i'm barely visible anymore.
I wonder if you're in the window seat, looking out on me. The terminal is fading
to big green and brown squares of land. Changing into sequences of lights and colors.
But that too is lost to the sun's radiance and the big pillows hugging the turbines and the pale blue ocean you are swimming in.

Thoughts meld at the edges. Memories overlapoverlap. I wonder if all you see is an inhabited world. I hope you remember I'm down here.

I hope that pilot knows what he's doing.
That iron bird has the only thing I ever really wanted.
I wonder if it knows that.

To Everyone I Know.

"You’ll be grateful that a long time ago this kind of person chose to be your friend. But now you’ll realize that even a person like this outgrows his friends. Even a person like this makes mistakes, can’t always hold on to everything they’d like to, can’t always force the world to spin in the direction of their choosing. You’ll hug him longer than necessary and tell him to keep in touch. And you’ll know, finally, that it had nothing to do with you."

I've always left before anyone had the chance to. I always disconnected before everyone else. Before time ran out, I was gone. So, this is me, all alone, with all the people i left behind having already moved on, and me wondering where I went wrong, now that I feel as though I'm the one that is really out of touch. Every day becomes a giant question mark of who I am, and I am left to ponder whether or not I made the right decision. Especially now that I feel like the one who is left behind. Each and every day.

Just so you know, it wasn't your fault. You were great. You were you. You were more true than I ever could have been. I just didn't feel like myself anymore. And so I took drastic measures that I thought would make everything better. And they worked, and they didn't. But so much changed so fast that its hard to tell what was the answer and what wasn't. And I'm sorry that I'm still lost in the confusion. But I am glad that I took the time to apologize, even though they were long overdue. And I'm still sorry for that, to this day.

Things like this happen. To everyone. I wish they didn't. And I wish that I could take it back. Each and every day. So I hope you don't think about me often. Though my regrets still haunt me, even when I sleep. But at least they are mine to bear, and hopefully no longer rest on the shoulders of another.

Idling

The potential is staggering, overwhelming.
So instead of trying everything, anything,
we end up doing nothing at all.

and our heads our in the ground.
and our eyes are closed.

but the world is still just as vibrant,
still waiting just as patiently
for you.

XC & Track

There was always a difference. Not just in the terrain, the options, the duration. More so in the mentality. The approach. I never had a track race where I didn't give everything I had. But there were cross country races where I ran easy to prevent burn out, or phoned it in because I wasn't feeling it. Talk about disrespect. To the sport, my teammates, other competitors. Wasting their time, my own time. I'm ashamed to know that me.

Maybe it was the distance. Because 5k seemed like a pain in the ass, and 8k was just daunting. Except I love the 5k now. More than the steeple.

Maybe it was the solitude. Though I've always considered myself something of a Lone Wolf style runner. Always ran from the front, even before I knew who Pre was. Never cared enough to call someone up and ask if they wanted to run. Just went out and did my own thing.

Maybe it was my maturity. Yet whether I was 16 or I was 20 it still plagued me, this emotionless procession to the starting line and thru the finishing chute.

Track always felt different. Maybe its the tightly packed places indoors where you could hear the hurdles smashing, the yells of coaches, the crash of the shot. Maybe its the shortened circuits, and the close competition. Maybe its the sense of urgency, when the bell rings, no matter where you are, it seems to echo inside you, adrenaline surging, the chase, the hunt beginning, regardless of your position or place.


I remember how I felt the first time I stepped to the line in a cross country race, it was scary as hell, but it was better than being on the track. I was 15. I remember the bus ride out, the hill half way through, finishing strong in the cool, shadowy evening. That was the day I became a runner. Who I was before that, I'll never know.

"Races don't begin at the starting line, do they? They don't really start until it's just the pack running shoulder to shoulder with no one around. Doesn't it add some excitement knowing the race isn't really won at the finish line with everyone watching? It is won somewhere along the course, where no one can see. " - Asics XC

More and more I feel like the woods are the place to be. Where real men are born. Where real races happen. I to want to get back to the grass, the dirt, the forests. I want to get back to nature, back to my ancestors, trekking, tracking, following the trail. It feels more of an opportunity to prove myself than any other time. when no one else is watching except me, my own arch rival, my own cheering section, my own critic. A time when I feel more in control of my own fate, alone, the inescapable truth of my abilities naked in the light. Better than finishing in front of thousands of screaming fans. The opportunity to know that I gave my all, and not worry about being celebrated for my efforts. Letting the good deed be its own reward. In the middle of a field, with not another soul in sight.

About 'My Promise to Gabe'

You'll have to highlight the black part in order to get the stuff that was written there. I am having trouble fixing the code to display it. thanks!

My Promise to Gabe

"the only ones that lend their eyes are the ones who care. the family. the coaches. the friends. the teammates. no one wants to see the high school 2 Mile, lap after seemingly endless lap.
but maybe they would, if they had known, that life hung in the balance. for certain someone else was watching, and what felt an instant later, the boy was gone from this world, forever. silently he carries on, his breaths and strides aligned, his trainers a vibrant, steady beacon shining deep from within the darkness of afterwards.
maybe everyone would have gathered, if they knew this would be his final race. they would have cheered for him as though it could change destiny. screaming throngs of people would have hung from the fences. roaring bleachers would tremble under the thundering feet of those hopeful spirits.
maybe if his adversaries would have known, they would have let him have a final taste of victory. perhaps nike would bless his feet, allowing him to soar, to earn what he had the rites to. maybe he would be given the track to run alone, his opponents waiting for him to finish, and to place the wreath upon his head, the medal around his neck.
but instead, it went on, and they clashed, unknowing. and now, they all look for answers, they search him out in the depths of their hearts. his resting place was never to be the ground, but instead a place of patience, perseverance; the roads, the trails, the lanes to which strode upon, those places that welcomed him so. before he ran for progress, through the pain and fatigue-no more, for now he runs in peace."

A couple years ago, Gabe Pacione passed away in a car accident. Though I never had the fortune of meeting him, he seemed like a great friend to those he knew, and he was also a great runner. In one of his last races, he finished 3rd in the 2008 MIAA All State Meet. Obviously he was trying his hardest.

Where I'm going with this: A common theory in racing is to hold back in some of the less important races in order to prevent burnout later on in the season. I myself subscribed to this theory for a while, especially during XC seasons. And from a long term approach it poses pretty solid logic.

But the boy mentioned above proves how chaotic and unpredictable life can be. What if my next race is my last? Though my effort would probably not be remembered by everyone else, I feel guilty right now just thinking about the concept of my last race being one in which I do not give my full heart to. One where I had something left, and was ok with that because I was saving it for later on in the season. But if I didn't make it to the end of the season, due to circumstance, I would be left wondering what sort of potential I had not tapped into, however miniscule the difference may or may not have been.

"Today I gave everything I had, what I've kept is lost forever."

Being able to say that you poured yourself out over the course of the race is something I find profound. I have always found a sense of completion, of perfection when I find myself fully exhausted. It is a great feeling to say the least. Greater than a personal best, greater still than winning, to me anyway.

So maybe saving something for the end of the season is a good idea. But i don't think i can live with myself anymore if I say that I have not given my all. I would like to apologize to all my competitors in the past whom i raced against and did not give my all, you deserve greater respect than what i gave you and i am sorry. My guilt still taunts about those performances, as i took life for granted in those moments where I decided to ease up. My only penance can be in the form of my future races, ones in which i devote all my efforts, overcome my mind and will my body further than my mind says it should go, hopefully being able to finally forgive myself.

Race day is the chance to lay it all on the line. To show our true selves and be proud of who were are. "Here I am". Maybe I'm not as fast as the next guy. But I will have the courage to face myself and say, at least I gave my all. by racing we are given the chance to acquit ourselves by giving a complete effort, otherwise there will be too much speculation between friends and enemies and ourselves. Should'ves and Maybes need to be replaced with dids. even if we are not happy with our own performance that day. at least no one can say that you didn't try your hardest, more importantly no one can say anything that will matter, good or bad, that will affect your knowing that you tried harder than you ever have before.

"If I'm going to get in these races and run against the best guys, I'm going to be there with them. And if I die, then I die, but I'm not going to walk away from the track saying, 'I didn't give everything.' Ever again." - David Kruckemacker

Honestly, whats the worst thing that happens if you burnout. you rest up and try again. that's what the days in between the races are for, not for racing each other in practice, but for readying ourselves for the next biggest race, next biggest challenge in your life.

"I'd rather burn out than fade away" - Tom Petty

So next time I go to a race, I will yell and scream for the competitors, because they deserve my respect, because they deserve to know that we are on their side, regardless of the jersey they wear. Because we are all battling to be better than ourselves. Because it just might be they're last chance.

And when I race, I will run it is as the biggest race of my career. I will respect it as the greatest challenge I have ever face. I will go forth as though it were My Last Chance. Because it very well could be.

anyone interested in graphic poetry should check these out.....

the archive at:

asofterworld.com

the archive at:

graphicpoetry.net


also,

"The Shade of Poison Trees" - Dashboard Confessional

great song to check out if
you feel like you're waiting on something.

On Pain

When you run, the brain makes all logical attempts to stop you. Boredom, fatigue. These are the culprits the mind associates with. But it knows how to mask them; fatigue feigning as pain, boredom pretending to be dislike. Apathy setting in on a once valiant effort, causing you to turn around early, slowing you to the side of the road, walking the shortest distance back to the car.

But when you know real pain from running, you will understand. The pain associated with fractured limbs, broken joints. Torn muscles and ligaments. You will know real pain, and what follows in the days, weeks, months after rebuilding and recovery has the potential to be glorious, if we realize that running hard won't kill you.

Pain is irrational, stemming from deep within, hidden away where the brain cannot find it. Follow that path back to its origins and we find the driving force that can overcome the mind, if we are willing to pour ourselves out every time we lace up. The heart.

The heart does not follow the simple constraints of time and sensibility. Pain blurs the ideas of logic and reason. Only let these two bodies govern you while you move, for however long across the landscape, at whatever speed you desire. Let your heart guide you through your races, and you will find that there is always a bit more of yourself to leave behind-in the woods, on the track, parts that your brain was trying to save; perhaps only trace amounts, yet everlasting morale victories that you can look back on with solemn pride. Knowing that our hearts are pure and unbridled by our minds gives us hope that in the face of adversity we may hold on for just a moment longer, unleashing potential that has never been tapped; the hope that we may prevail even when defeat seemed inevitable.

Competitive Spirit

When I was younger I was a really poor sportsman. And I loved to win. So much so that I would cry when I lost. I tried my best to not smack talk, and still don't (most of the time), but I couldn't get over the idea of winning.

And then for the longest time, I lost my competitive streak, or at least felt I had. It was as though I was no longer filled with that innate desire, as though it had disappeared at some instant, or perhaps slowly decayed over time, until I was just playing for the sake of playing with no goals in mind. But I still played hard, not quite sure why, not conscious of my drive.

I've always been a hustler. But my work ethic outside of actual competition was always lackluster. So while playing pick up sports with my friends I always excelled (who gives a fuck?), I never had those lofty accomplishments that my peers have had on more serious levels of competition.

Last night, I made a comment about what it takes for me to be more competitive. Some of my friends were in slight disbelief, remarking that I was already the most competitive person they knew. This small group was held in agreement, and I took a step back to reflect. I had forgotten that they hadn't experienced the competitive community which I grew up in, specifically the overall levels of competitiveness from my friends Jake, Dan and Zach. Still, I decided to look into this further.

Recently, after my return to running, I have been working much harder to become a more fit, faster, stronger runner; I even found myself thoroughly enjoying the burning sensation I was having while doing leg raises during one particular core session last week. And I feel stronger, and more fit; I'm hoping the speed will come eventually with enough applied energy.

And looking at my overall drive, I find myself getting into "the zone" more frequently in games of ultimate against complete strangers, or pick up basketball with friends...I also get frequent adrenaline rushes throughout runs, prompting me to speed up; a handful of these occur depending on the length of the run. These often occur when I feel the need to personally "change the tides" of a game, when my team seems to be plateauing, or if our morale is starting to drag. Also when people start to talk smack I get amped up, but in some sports its easier to focus this energy than in other sports requiring more finesse.

After what was said last night, I have been thinking about competitiveness a lot, and I have decided I am ready to embrace this feeling that I thought was missing, that I always looked at in a jaded light. I am not competing to win anymore, because now I find the same solace in winning and losing, knowing that I have poured myself out, in hopes of growing to be better. To work hard for that euphoric feeling, that "white moment" of nirvana, that is ever fleeting, something I thirst for, always. I doubt it is perfection, because I am not a perfectionist. But I do prescribe to this feeling of completeness I find within myself. Satisfied, for just a moment, by the work I have done that day.

Being so close to death really set my priorities straight. I have grown more courageous, the most important trait I feel any one can have, so long as they are not so misguided that it becomes contempt for life.

More importantly I have been willing to break myself. To work so hard I can barely stand. Because I have felt death, and I know that nothing I do to myself physically will put me over that threshold, so even if I work myself to within an inch of life, I still feel my fateful end to be lightyears away.

So when I go out there, regardless of where it is, I will be showing my courage, I will be showing my loyalty to the competitive spirit, and I will be working not for applause or jeers, but to acquit myself well regardless of win loss or tie.