Life Moves Fast

When I was younger, family would tell me how much faster the years go by as you age. I thought they were lying. When did I become a full-grown adult?

The memories of yesterday are actually 10 years ago now. I’ve experienced the world in thousands of new ways, yet it’s not until I step back into my childhood room when I realize I’m no longer that boy from 10 years ago.

My family lives in a different state now. I cherish the moments when I get to see them, but somehow, it’s always after those moments pass that I truly wish I had spent more time with them. Why is it so hard to say what I feel in the moment? To tell them how much I miss them when they’re not around? The words catch in my throat, only to surface when it’s too late.

I can count a million moments that shaped who I am today—moments of independence, growth, and adventure. And I know there are infinite more waiting for me in the future. Deciding to create a new life thousands of miles away has been the most exciting and frightening decision I’ve ever made. There’s so much left to see, to do, to become. But every time I go back home, a part of me wishes I could freeze time and live in that day forever, surrounded by the people who love me most.

 

Each visit home reminds me that life keeps moving. My parents, aunts, and uncles age just a little more every time I see them. It’s subtle but undeniable—a new wrinkle, a slower step, a pause before remembering a word. And every time, it breaks off a tiny piece of my heart. Sometimes they irritate me, and I know that I irritate them in my own ways. But beneath all of that, there is love—the kind of love that would make them do anything for me, no questions asked. And when the time comes to say goodbye again, I’m left wondering: Am I making the right choice? Should I be living closer to them?

There’s a world out there, waiting to be explored, and a family who has given me the roots to stand tall. It feels impossible to have both at once. Is it ever possible to balance the pull of where we come from with the call of where we’re meant to go?

What If?

What if today you did something that frightened you?

What if today you didn’t care about the outcome and lived in the present?

What if today you let your inner child consume you?

What if just this once you let yourself believe that it will work out for you?

What if today you embraced the people you love and let them know how much they mean to you?

What if today you surrendered to your deepest desires?

What if you did a cartwheel in the middle of the street for no other reason then than because you can?

What if today you took time to stop and admire the world around you?

What if today you made a promise to yourself not knowing where it will take you?

An Ultra "Day Hike"

I still struggle to find the right words when friends ask how that 'big hike' went. I have to stop myself from saying, “I failed” even though I do feel like that at times.

The hike I’m referring to is the Desolate Peaks event I only discovered two weeks before toeing the start line. I’ve wanted to do something extraordinary like this (not race) since I first laid my eyes on the peaks surrounding the Tahoe basin. This not-trail race had all the makings of a perfect day in the mountains including aid stations, timed splits, a very rough course guide, and all the most insane people the greater Tahoe area had to offer up.

Technically, I did fail even though I also had the time of my life out there. I decided to give in to the pain of my body and the thought of a warm sleeping bag after standing on top of 11 summits. I did achieve my goal of the day, which was to complete the biggest hike I’ve ever done. Somehow I still feel unsatisfied when looking back on this adventure, even though I had the biggest smile on my face while moving through the wilderness for a continuous 19 hours with the best new and old friends I could’ve asked for.

“I’ve never spent such a short time on top of a peak before,” as I thought to myself coming down from Mt.Price (1 of 17) and I barely had time to admire the beauty around me as I ran down a talus field trying not to break an ankle. I loved it though, the insane pace, the super focus required, going deeper into the pain cave than I had ever gone before, and the logistics of fueling your body to be able to continue on.

As we left the fallen leaf aid station at 10pm, we packed everything we needed to be able to complete the last 6 peaks. At the same time though, I knew in the back of my mind how much my body hurt and I had no idea where the limit was going to be.

That nighttime stretch would have likely been the most difficult and transformative part of the entire experience. I now have more motivation to train and prepare my body than I’ve found in the past few years. Racing is a blast, but I find myself far more inspired to be able to explore further, to see more mountains, and discover where my body can take me.

I believe Desolate Peaks should be declared a national holiday—if only so I can spend all of Monday doing nothing on the couch. But now that I’ve discovered this deranged event and its equally crazy participants, I cannot wait for my redemption story next August.

Hidden Treaures

I stand in the middle of an art gallery far away from any wilderness and I ask myself again, “why do I venture into the unknown?”  

Why do I yearn to stand on top of peaks and ride my bike for countless hours until I can barley go on? As I stare into a mesmerizing piece of art that may have taken weeks or months to complete, I understand. I’ve found my escape. The problems of my life can’t find me at the top of a mountain, only the clear air and nature surrounding me.

The same way an artist can lose all sense of time getting lost in each brush stroke, my problems seem to fade away the farther I get from my door. There is so much excitement on the other side of the unknown. Will I hate myself or thank myself in just a few hours? Will I experience something new that will have me chasing a sensation for the rest of my life?

Exploration is always free in so many ways, just like carving something from your imagination into a plank of wood is free. We each have these primitive desires, but so many choose to ignore and suppress them. There are an infinite number of rich stories hiding in the details of the world around you. It is your job as a human being to uncover and tell those stories, even if only to yourself. 

I don’t know why it took walking through an art gallery around the work of so many creatives to piece these thoughts together in my head, even though they had been driving my motives for years. I am glad we decided to step into that world that day though, and I’ve discovered that the art I cherish exists at the limit of where my body can take me.

 

To Be a Local

Tahoe locals seem to be able to identify each other with a single glance. This has been one of my favorite experiences about living in Lake Tahoe for the short time I have so far.

I stop at 7-11 to acquire caffeine for a moonlight hike at 1am. Another pollen painted car pulls up in the same moment as me and sees me wearing shorts, tights, and a sun hoody in the middle of the night. The only words spoken between us are complementing each-other on the amount of pollen covering our cars, somewhat of a secret handshake between locals.

That moment lives in my head every single day since, because only in a mountain town in the middle of the night could that interaction take place. We part ways and I never even got his name, but I’ll remember him forever.

I arrive at the trailhead 5 minutes before my friends and realize Ive forgotten to pack my Solomon Ultra Glides in the car, big yikes. I've spent the entire afternoon going over my checklist and barely slept out of excitement but managed to forget the most important piece of gear. The answer was simple, to hike in sandals or go home. Luckily my friends instilled all the confidence in the world for me to go for it anyway.

All of the sudden, a brand new challenge was introduced and I impressed not only myself but everyone we passed on the way up thinking to themselves, “is that guy running in fucking sandals?” My self-presented challenge became even more exciting when a hiking partner asked if we wanted to try turning our headlamps off to let our eyes adjust to the moonlight. Holy pile of rocks, what a surreal experience that was.

We reached the peak and discovered another party had gotten there about an hour before us, and none of them were wearing any bit of “hiking attire.” It appeared they had just come from some banquet dinner and made last minute drunk plans to climb a mountain. I’ve found my people.

Throughout the hike, I felt frustrated with myself that I did not have proper footwear to hike, only to make new friends on the summit who seemingly went out of their way to be less prepared.

I now felt intense gratitude for the challenge I presented myself with on accident, and I promised myself I would plan some type of adventure every time the full moon comes around again. For some reason I was happy it worked out the way it did, and I discovered new things about myself during this adventure.

I am falling in love with this place one day at a time, and I will continue to become the Tahoe Local I’ve fantasized about my entire life.