A Voice from the Past

I went running this morning. Woke up at seven and called JS Butler to cancel on kayaking; I just can’t afford the gas money no matter how high the Slip is running. After trying to pass out on the couch for a bit, I had to clear the fog out of my head from the brief brief five hour nap that was last night’s sleep. Forty minutes of sucking air under the dripping trees of Schenley Park and I’m ready to take on the world.

Not really. My world is spinning so fast I can’t even wrap my mind around it. The days are blowing by so quickly….every day is simply a blur of white water, grey rock, boats and gear, pizza and beer. I am wrapped up in kayaking, dreaming of climbing, and happily falling into the everyday drama that this more civilised life allows.

I need purpose. I have so much ambition, so much desire…but I need an outlet. Good friends, a steady job?

God life is good lately….but I am afraid there might be more to it than living with my college roommate, paddling and climbing like it is my job, and, well, working in a gear store.

A voice from the past whispers, “no regrets, no complaints.”

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