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@HeySarawrr

July 16th, Matea and I started just after 4am to attempt the Utah Triple Crown FKT. While descending the very last ridge after summitting all three of Utah’s highest peaks (Kings, South Kings, Gilbert), a hail storm hit and amid the sprint to tree line I lost my phone. It was found the very next day by wilderness rangers, and I’m so glad because the photos I’d taken were 🔥🔥 haha. So here are some highlights. Such rich and spiritual land!
Celebrated five years of marriage ayer y hoy con @wakeofthecakes siempre y siempre. ❤️❤️❤️
No sé. Nunca sabré.
If I just see everyone as trees, then maybe I can harbor more patience and understanding.
This past spring, I finished writing an essay that at some level is me coming to terms with a very controlling patriarchal lineage. The essay is about the desert, it’s about running, it’s about fathers, it’s about time, loss, grief. I entered the essay into a contest but it wasn’t selected. I haven’t gone back to it yet to re-edit, and I think it has to do with how hard it is for me to address fatherhood. Almost two months ago now I visited the place the essay is centered around, Chuckwalla. I wrote a lot of sad things in my journal. “This place was born in their arrogance and in their fun, they have not cared for it since. Like me. Dad and daughter…To not find the sentinel was the same as realizing dad would not come. That the vision of him and it being there in the way I imagined is not possible. They are living their own time spirals, they exist on different planes…” Then a few weeks ago I jotted down the line, “I have wishful thinking as a parent instead of a dad.” Of course these thoughts are one-sided and rooted in my anger; I’ve spent my whole life trying to comprehend fatherhood. And I of course wrote many other non-angry things too during those Chuckwalla days, and I know that love has existed as well in these spaces, memories, lives. I don’t know what the point of this post is, really, but the past few days I’ve been realizing how little credit I actually give people who devote themselves as fathers, because I’m so lost with mine. Anyway, here are some photos of my dad/grandpas/family/mom. They are/were as complicated as anybody, with dreams, aspirations, mistakes, regrets.
Thresholds.
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