World Running

I am trying to run all the way around the world. Yes, the 24901.55 miles around the world. I started in Utah, and in 2009 I was in Boston (Hiiii Zander!); by the 18th of July, 2011, I was in Rome (always wanted to go there); I made it to Afghanistan on the 16th of August 2012, and to Nepal on the 2nd of December of that same year. So then, I stopped competing for BYU and training with the team. I spent two months just sitting in Nepal, wriggeling my toes around in the grass and lookin' up at Mt. Everest. Then I started running again; I mean, I still had 15571.55 miles to go #notevenhalfway #theworldissobig #run4lyfe

But, here is the catch, since I have started running again, I haven't logged any of my miles. I mean it was oh-way-to-easy to just have my coach keep track, but now, well, it is hard. Out on a run, oh what is that? Well why don't I just hop-skip off the route and see...feel like doing hills over and over again? want to race that random, unassuming person on the other side of the street? want to run around the block ten times? down the street and back? as far as I can see? without a watch? without a plan? Oh, let me tell ya, oh so tempting! and why not? Welp, I am trying to run around the world, that's why.

Check out this up front and personal page of my journal. Sorry it is backwards, I took the picture with the front camera on a tablet, just for kicks, giggles, and ring pops. I drew this map and have been mapping my progress until it halted in 2013. I need a new record keeper to log my miles. Any takers? Anyone?

Also, here is my beautiful team at the beach after a race. They will be my team forever.

Haiku Craze

Okay so I seriously have written so many silly Hailkus in the last week or so. This one is not about anyone in particular, just the idea and the feeling. Here ya go:

There is a frame here
in my head, and you don't fit
perfectly, of course;
so it is the frame or you
as far as I can tell.

I am obsessed with Haiku

"Trust your heart if the seas catch fire, live by love though the stars walk backward." - e e cummings

Just because I like to, I decided to write a poem. Then I transformed it to Haiku version because lately, I have been obsessed. 

If the sea catches

fire maybe it will burn the

entire ocean

between us, but if

the sea catches fire and it

doesn’t burn anything I

am going to tell

you that I forgot to swim,

I think. Because when

I put my foot in

the water I get beached. So would

you please unharbor

Your docked boat and come

across the water to me,

If the sea catches

What I have been reading

In my reading, I came across 44 Aphorisms by Richardson. Here is number seven.

Ah, what can fill the heart? But then, what can't?

So true, this phrase is. One might argue that nothing can fill to fullness but love, which is true. A pure love for another human does fill the heart up so tightly. And for some people, this love may be hard to find, and so they ask, "what can fill the heart?" because they feel the lack. But also, our hearts are our own. I can do whatever I want with my heart. I can love whatever I want, worship whatever I want, serve whoever I want. And I think it is who I decide to love and worship that enters my heart and fills it. I want to give my whole heart to God, and in my experience, when I do that, He gives me back so much of His love so then I can better serve and love those around me. But I also must be careful not to let things of a lessor value enter into my heart. Because it is what we spend our time doing and our minds thinking about that enters into our heart and becomes a part of who we are. I just really enjoyed this aphorism; there is so much found in these eleven words.

For more about the LDS church go to www.mormon.org or www.lds.org.

My brother left on a mission, so I wrote some poetry

The Curbside as I remember it

He was dressed in his black suit;
His silly smile jumping around his face -
Nervous? He said he wasn't,
Just talking about our cat and trying to lick my hand whenever it was near him -
My brother. Sitting in the backseat of the car as we pulled up to the MTC.
"Remember that lick for the next two years."
Shuttled up to the curbside, he got out
Pulled his bags from the back of the car
Hugged Mom; hugged Dad -
Then it was my turn:
He stood up on the curb -
Like a banner -
All six feet and six inches of him.
I was a step down, on the road
As I reached to wrap my arms around him,
He was so tall up on that curb that I pulled him down to the street with me.
We laughed, and I let go.
He turned around and walked,
Walking away from us, but toward -
A step toward Boston, MA
Where he would shape his heart a bit,
And write messy letters to tell me about it.

In the LDS church, young boys and girls leave on missions for two years. My brother is eighteen and he will be serving in Boston preaching the Gospel and helping people find the love, happiness, and peace only Christ can offer.

So then I wrote more poetry, just sloppy, right out of my mind, unedited poetry. This next one is about a friend.

crossing the waves
(chop, chop waves)
In my mind you are setting the table
for dinner and company
in your basement apartment
in September,
but really, where are you?
Get all this water out -
(chop, chop waves)
There's an ocean between us

And then just for sweet Sophie, a silly little verse because I miss her.

Sister's Sonnet replays in my thoughts.
What are you doing three hundred miles away?
She Lives for Hugs,
Lives on.

And then a little modified Haiku because I realized recently, I actually love this form.

I miss you because
I know you are really gone
But I love you like
I hope you'll come back to me.

What I have been reading (and writing)

English 362 - American Literature from 1865-1914

Today we read some Dickenson. Poems number 5, 28, 39, 48, 637, and 1425. Check them out if you are interested. Then I wrote this shabby piece.

In Dickenson’s water whole

My soul estranged

Breathes

—Sometimes water—

“What and if indeed

There were just such a coffin

In the heart instead?”

Don’t die, little bird, I cry

For there is no coffin in my heart

So if you die, there will be no place

To put you. It will be empty

And I will be treading

For shore, as you fly

Fly, fly

Your melodies

you once gave to me, but no

they’re thine

First piece of poetry on the blog. No judging. Just sappy-should-be-studying-too-many-people-in-the-library type of poetry. 

Spilling Thoughts

I think it is important to pull truth out of literature. So, what if I know more truth, understand something, have more insight than the author? I am not to try and assume what the author did and didn’t understand, how he did or didn’t see the world. I have eyes. I see the world. However wrong I am, it is the only way I know and no one can prove anything otherwise. So I am to understand literature, and through my eyes, see truth — out of something written from the pen and through the mind of someone else. . . But can every human recognize truth? From my experience, it speaks to the soul. We can all recognize love. . . and love is truth (how different are they anyway?). So the beauty is that there is a piece of something shared in literature. That piece of truth. Which may be the only untainted line of communication between two different eyes on paper. . . But if this not true — for I admit, at least right now in this train of thought, it is speculation — then I must still seek the truth out of literature — and raw human to human communication continues, a little occluded, but as close as I know for this time now.