I leave in 7 hours but have to be up in 6, and judging by my inability to go to bed at a reasonable hour, the amount of sleep I get will be around 3-4 hours.
And somehow despite the fact that I'll be backpacking for the rest of the week, I decided it'd be a good idea to throw in a long run tonight. My body is dead. Thank goodness God blessed me with an insane amount of energy.
And on top of that my feet are still destroyed from previous backpacking trips of backpacking in chacos. I'll be backpacking in chacos this week. Starting to wonder if hiking boots would be more efficient than covering my entire feet in bandaids and duct tape BUT I'm poor so bandaids and duct tape it is.
When I get home from backpacking, it'll be one week until I head to the desert to spend an entire week with my favorite people, doing my favorite thing. I am beyond excited.
After that it's more backpacking, weddings, and a whole lot of working because somehow you can't survive without money?? Weird.
Memories are flooding my mind. Like the one time we spontaneously drove to Wyoming with no plans, hiked 10 miles around a lake with 24oz of water between two people and a whole lot of Oreos and "omg I'm going to die" and then proceeded to sleep in our car in a random parking lot.
Or that one time we ended up in Moab with no place to stay so this nice college geology group from Colorado let us crash at their camp site. A bitter lullaby or f-words being thrown around their fire lulled us to sleep on our tarp under the stars.
OR maybe that one time I missed my flight home because I was repelling off an old mining bridge in Sacramento and had to spend the night in the international terminal of the LAX airport; curled under a bench in my sleeping bag like the true nomad that I am. Also can't forget that old Korean guy that talked to me about life for hours while we ate our Panda Express.
That one time we dileriously ate animal crackers on the floor of a Trader Joes in San Francisco. Explored the redwoods while breaking all the rules and making mustaches out of moss. Camped under fern trees with the beach just a short walk away while our tree tent neighbors got higher and higher.
Or that one time we had fires on the beach and slept on a complete strangers floor in Seattle.
Etc., etc., etc.
This is my life.
This. (and so much more) is. my. life.
Mine??
?????
I am overwhelmed and confused as to how I got this lucky.
People come and go, hearts get broken, tears are shed, plans falter, you make mistakes...but hope is never loss. Never, ever.
There's too much good to be found in the world to be sad. I am so stoked to be alive. So absolutely thrilled for my future. This life is so good. My thoughts are stars I cannot fathom into constellations. But wow. Life is good my dudes.
"And once you live a good story, you get a taste for a kind of meaning in life, and you can't go back to being normal; you can't go back to meaningless scenes stitched together by the forgettable thread of wasted time."
And isn't that the truth.
(Apologies for the lack of coherency in writing but it is what it is.)
Stay stoked y'all :)
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