FOMO.

I opened my front door to embark on my morning walk-n-talk with my neighborhood flora when I was greeted unexpectedly by fauna in the form of two cats. I got the impression these cats didn’t know each other and we had certainly never been acquainted but the greeting was that of old friends running slow motion into one another’s arm after years apart. Mutual admiration was given, using each of our love languages; they exposed their tender underbellies for a scritch-scratch and I used words of affirmation to tell them they are perfect and adorable and strong and radiant and are always welcome here. I called Evan to the front yard where he joyfully joined in the salutations, squatting over to give pets in only his Go Banana’s MeUndies briefs. Cats > pants.**

While this was a solid bit of magic to kick off the walk, in the 10 or so minutes I’m out I always witness something delightfully unexpected. Today, I was inches away staring down the barrel of a big-ass sunflower when a phat bee bellowed past my ear into that same flower, his legs (aka jumpin’ sticks, aka buzzer-beaters) already weighed down with pollen went stamen to stamen*** to greedily collect more. Witnessing this up close felt like going to space, a reminder of a whole world happening outside my head, a reminder of how small I really am. Near the end of my walk, I also witnessed a crow fly down and rest on top of a black fedora that was mysteriously resting on the curb. Nature.

Morning walks and all the fascination I draw from them are a new ritual since the c-bag. This time used to be for running and running used to be at the center of my world. Yesterday was the Siskiyou Outback Trail Runs (SOB) which, if running is at my center, then this race is the center of that center. It may be my favorite day of the year. Over 800 runners come from all over the U.S. to experience our glorious mountains and the Pacific Crest Trail (PCT) that run through Southern Oregon. It’s a reunion of friends and after a difficult pandemic year, a special flavor of reunion. It was also supposed to be my first 50-miler. This 50-miler was to be the kick-off to a year of training leading up to running the Leadville 100 in 2022, my first 100-miler. I had plans on plans on plans: travel plans, training plans, post-race eating plans. C-bag had a different plan and here we are. Awww, the illusion of control. A topic for another day.

Holly is 6-months preggo and ran 15k yesterday THEN brought the ‘za up for the crew. My kinda woman. (+ranch)

Instead of running, friends helped me set up the Woodlands tent where we had chairs, refreshments, snacks, and R-rated conversation while cowbelling (a vital verb in our trail world) finishers, held space for those to grieve not finishing, and told stories of the trail until the sun went down. Pure bliss.

People ask me all the time if I have FOMO, fear of missing out. The short answer? No. The follow-up? Missing out on what? If I was running yesterday I would have missed out on the time under the tent watching the raw emotion on the faces of my friends with whom I’ve shared the pain and joy of training for this race and bring it home at the finish line. I would have missed full minute-long hugs crying tears of acknowledgment of that joy and relief. If I was taking the epic adventures we’d planned for our 2021 post-pandemic coming back tour, I may not have erupted in laughter with Evan at the absurdity of standing in our underwear whispering sweet nothings into the fuzzy ears of the neighborhood felines or the countless other moments of intimacy, of my own raw emotions as I cross micro-finish lines on this fucked up and beautiful journey.

I don’t fear missing out. I do fear no longer seeing the magic in the moment in front of me. I don’t have a desire to be planning, doing, consuming, traveling, or even running. I wish to be free of desire. To be free of desire is to experience absolute freedom; a freedom that is not connected to anything outside of myself. I’m not trying to work for the weekend until I die. I don’t have the time to rush.

Arbitrary footnotes:

**A bit of unsolicited advice on selecting a partner or your core friend group: Observe how they treat 1. Wait staff. 2. Their parents. 3. Other drivers on the road. 4. Animals. I’ve found how one interacts in these 4 ways say the most about them. PS It also says the most about you.

***I can’t say the word ‘stamen’ without thinking of Matt Damon. Now you will as well. You’re welcome.

Shiny happy people hugging again.