texas.

oklahoma.

these pieces of art are really beautiful. there is one for each state.
i love the bison.
danny occasionally makes promises, when we get in one of those moments where anything is possible for us, that we will have land with bison.

then I start to imagine about the Native American Bison and how maybe one day a little lost bison will walk it's way up to our back yard and see some chickens and think "um, this would be a nice place to rest".


crazier things have happened.

the meat eaters.

family

These are my parents. It is hard not living close to home. To family. To the people who know you the best.

7 hours away is a long way away.

Aren't they beautiful.

I love yall and appreciate all that you do! This picture is worth a million words.

Danny and I get to visit them in a couple of weeks. We miss yall!

oly lifts

MC Hammer Time

Lights Out

There are few books that have managed to "rock my world". This is one of them:

An overview of the book:

With research gleaned from the National Institutes of Health, T. S. Wiley and Bent Formby deliver staggering findings: Americans really are sick from being tired. Diabetes, heart disease, cancer, and depression are rising in our population. We're literally dying for a good night's sleep.

Our lifestyle wasn't always this way. It began with the invention of the lightbulb.

When we don't get enough sleep in sync with seasonal light exposure, we fundamentally alter a balance of nature that has been programmed into our physiology since Day One. This delicate biological rhythm rules the hormones and neurotransmitters that determine appetite, fertility, and mental and physical health. When we rely on artificial light to extend our day until 11 PM, midnight, and beyond, we fool our bodies into living in a perpetual state of summer. Anticipating the scarce food supply and forced inactivity of winter, our bodies begin storing fat and slowing metabolism to sustain us through the months of hibernation and hunger that never arrive.

This is a great book for those who are NOT OCD. I feel like I am a pretty laid back kinda person and this book makes me nervous. It makes me really consider the things that I do/eat on a day to day basis (and night to night), but I take it in stride... There are things that you strive for and there are things that you just allow. If you make a mistake along the way, make a better choice next time.

Anyway this is a good book if you like science and can get past a little sarcasm.

The choices of our youth.

I came across this post from the "Again Faster" website and thought I would share it with you.


I was leaning against the windows of the Walgreens, waiting for the 66 bus to come and bring me to the gym. Evening rush hour was slowing everything down. A young guy was pacing the sidewalk nearby, asking every second or third person if they might donate money to save the children, or the whales, or the trees.
She was a quarter of the way across the street before I saw her. When she stepped off the curb, I’m sure she had the light. But now, as she pushed her walker, the light was changing and a stream of cars could do nothing but watch and wait. Part of me wanted to go over, pick up the old lady and carry her the rest of the way. Every step was progress, but barely.
I admired her persistence, sad that it took her five full minutes to cross the street. I thought it wasn’t as sad as if she couldn’t make it at all, and I thought about a conversation I’d had recently.
I was sitting beneath the judge’s tent at the Northeast Qualifiers, in a beach chair real low to the pavement. A hundred yards away, barbells and bumper plates crashed to the ground. I could hear the pull-up bars shake under the momentum of kips. Rafael lowered himself into the seat next to me.
I don’t remember how we got to talking about it, but eventually he mentioned his father. He said there was no way his father could get in and out of a chair like the ones we were in. He said, “I love my father, but I don’t want to end up like him.”
If he isn’t already, Rafael is close to turning forty, though you’d never guess it. He’s a fighter, a trainer, an athlete, and a constant stream of encouragement. You’re always just a little bit better when Raf is nearby, and as we sat there, the irony of what we were talking about didn’t escape me.
It was a weekend to celebrate athleticism, to marvel at the virility, viability and ferociousness of youth, and we were talking about what it was like to grow old. All around us wandered the chiseled bodies of young gods and goddesses, but Rafael and I were talking about nursing homes. We were talking about our fathers.
My father isn’t in bad shape. He’s in his fifties and stays active. My mother sees to it that he eats relatively well, and when he’s not battling some knee or shoulder problem, he gets to the gym a couple times a week. I’ve tried to introduce him to CrossFit, but he’s a man of routine. Twenty minutes on the stationary bike, some seated shoulder presses and leg extensions and he’s happy. Every now and again, he’ll call me and tell me he got on the Concept2 at the Y, just like I showed him.
So maybe I shouldn’t be worried, but I am. I’ve watched his mother start showing signs of Alzheimer’s. At dinner with her, I’ve watched him put on a smile as she tells us the same story she told us ten minutes prior, and I can’t help but wonder if that smile will be mine some day. I want him to stop eating pasta and bread, but I’m fighting against years of homemade Italian cooking and I don’t know how hard to push. I don’t know how to tell him it’s because I don’t want him to end up like her.
Rafael and I are sitting in beach chairs real low to the pavement and he says, “I love my father, but I don’t want to end up like him,” and I start to wonder if my old man could get in and out of the chair. I don’t know the answer.
It’s so easy to get lost in the vanity of now. In the mirror’s reflection. It’s so easy to focus on the Fran time and the max deadlift and the consecutive pull-ups. What’s harder to remember is that we aren’t doing this for today.
It’s nice to look good with your clothes off, but it’s nicer to know that for the rest of your life you’ll be able to take those clothes off without the assistance of a certified health care provider. That you’ll be able to get across the street without the assistance of a traffic cop.
While my father’s mother forgets, my mother’s parents are on their boat, floating down the Hudson River on a trip they’ve taken many times before. When summer comes, family barbeques are scheduled around their arrival. My grandfather is still one of the strongest people I’ve ever known, and my grandmother is still one the sharpest.
I can’t know all the reasons my grandparents have aged differently. There are too many variables. I can’t know if it was environment, their diet, lifestyle, or genetics, but I do know that blaming randomness is too easy. The choices we make in youth give color to our future selves.

What we’re doing, it isn’t about today.