Take Every Chance You Dare

If you see me walking around in the next few days rubbing my eyes, it's probably because I'm suffering from culture shock within my own state. Truth be told, it has nothing to do with the perceived inherent superiority of one situation to another, but in the past few days, I've made more rapid transition than the sales of Mrs. Pacman arcade games in the wake of Adam Jones's latest name related announcement.

This time a week ago, I was enjoying the finer things in life. Lunch at a great restaurant? No problem. Exciting events on the social calendar multiple nights per week? The usual. Doing anything more physically strenuous than lifting a coffee cup? Not likely.

This week?

Well, let's just say things have changed quite rapidly. If there were a song to describe my journey from Houston to the Rose Capitol of America, it is undoubtedly "From the Ritz to the Rubble" by the Arctic Monkeys. Granted, the song never actually uses those words, but the title is incredibly prescient.

Today instead of going to work on the 20th floor of the second tallest building in Texas, I drove with my Dad to work at a company of about 10. We loaded and unloaded rebar, we moved brush, and we sweated more than I thought was humanly possible. As much as I might have been tempted to wonder what in the world I was doing moving steel in the middle of an East Texas afternoon, I remembered a line from Kipling's great poem "If".

"If you can meet with triumph and disaster and treat those two impostors just the same..."

This is not to say that the position in Houston was an absolute triumph or that my job here in Tyler is an absolute disaster. Instead, what I believe Kipling was striving to convey is the idea of constancy and contentment. The ability to learn from whatever situation you find yourself in on a given day. The understanding that even though I'm training to be an attorney, a little manual labor for a few weeks is going to make me a better man.

You Can Go to Movies and See It All There

As all of you have surely heard or read, Washington Redskins safety Sean Taylor died early yesterday morning from gunshot wounds he suffered in an early-morning robbery attempt at his South Florida home. Michael Wilbon of the Washington Post (and "P.T.I.") has a powerful, if not also controversial, column on the tragic nature of Taylor's passing and how it has become an all too frequent occurrence in today's landscape.

Admittedly, my only information on the subject is filtered through other media sources, but something about the entire situation gives off the air that some detail, some lead, and some motivation is lurking below the surface. Perhaps it is the fact that another burglary occurred at Taylor's home only eight days before the fatal shooting or that in 2006 Taylor's vehicle was sprayed with a hail of bullets after he initiated a confrontation over the disappearance of some of his ATVs.

Since the news of Taylor's death first hit the internet and the airwaves, I have heard over and over again about he was changing his life and habits after the birth of his 18-month old daughter, and I hope that is true. With that said, the current limited description that we have of how the break-in and shooting occurred seems to point to the fact that this was not simply a random act.

As someone who is going to turn 24 in less than two months, I truly believe that Taylor's passing at such a young age is no more or less tragic than the death of any other 24 year old, regardless of their athletic, intellectual, or social gifts and abilities. Despite the fact that we have almost lived a quarter of a century, there is still this ever present notion that the curtain has just gone up and life is a wonderful show that has just begun. For Sean Taylor, the curtain has gone down much, much too soon.

If You've Never Stared Off Into the Distance, Then Your Life is a Shame

Congratulations to Ms. Villescas for correctly naming "Bring It On Home to Me" by Sam Cooke as the Sunday Song of the Day.

As I was talking to one of my friends this weekend about his upcoming 24th birthday, I stopped for a moment and thought, "I'm old enough to have friends that are 24? When did this happen?" I know that some of the older (I won't say old outright) readers of this blog may laugh at such a thought, but sometimes it seems like just a few days ago I was sitting there in Holloway Middle School working my way through 7th grade Texas History.

Despite that feeling that life is moving way too quickly, there are moments when I realize that there is still so much to see, do, and experience. On some level I understand exactly what Robin Williams means in Good Will Hunting when he describes the critical difference between knowledge and experience.



At 23, it's as if the entire world is waiting out there and I hear a small voice whispering, "Your move, Chief."

Current Reading

Miracle in the Andes: 72 Days on the Mountain and My Long Trek Home by Nando Parrado with Vince Rause

Casting Lines on the Floor, and Lines on His Face, He Reflects on the Day

Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, blog readers of all ages, welcome to the 3rd anniversary of Running Down a Dream. Here's how it all began, the first anniversary post, and finally the second anniversary post.

Once again, by the numbers:

• This is post #750



• Year 1: 249 posts



• Year 2: 239 posts



• Year 3: 262 posts

In my first post I promised to provide my thoughts on "school, life, marathon training, baseball, books and other things." Well, the marathon has come and gone, but I still write about baseball, books, school, life, and other things. I look at the initial post and first anniversary post and I see girlfriends that have come and gone. I wade through the comments from the past and I smile as I read the thoughts of my friends and family. There are so many things that I wish I could say to each of you who check in each day to see what's on my mind, but I will simply say this: Thanks for reading and sharing your life with me in some small way. I'm a better man because I have known each of you.

There is a Wall That Runs Right Through Me

Congratulations to Mr. Tim Henderson for correctly naming "Grace" by U2 as the Thursday Song of the Day.


Sometimes life simply makes no sense. None. Aaron Fry, a member of Gamma Sigma Phi who pledged a year after me, died yesterday in Abilene after being thrown from his motorcycle. You can read the Abilene Reporter News release here. Aaron and I were not particularly close, but he was the type of guy who managed to carve his own niche wherever he went. He was a tremendous trumpet player and sang tenor with the best of them. Now, at 22, he's dead.


Any words that I write here will seem inadequate, so I'll simply say this: Aaron, rest in peace, my brother.

Honey, Please Don't Stop Your Talking

Here at Trek, staff members have one day off per week. If you are on Saturday rotation, your group obviously comes in on Saturday and leaves on Thursday. If you are on Sunday rotation, your group comes in on Sunday and departs on Friday. This means that Friday and Saturday are precious, precious days for those on each respective rotation.

I'm always confounded about what to do with my day off, but today I have decided to head to the world famous Patio Pancake Place, play a little football (soccer) with my good friend Payton McCollum at the Salida Park, and do a little laundry. I realize that this is quite possibly the most boring post that I have ever composed in the almost three years that I have written in this space, but when you spend a number of weeks living in a completely different atmosphere, the return to "civilization" is always a bit jarring.

For instance, after eating the same meal for the last three summers that I have worked here, the simple ability to choose which food I would like to eat on a daily basis is almost a paralyzing experience in those first few days after you finish up at Trek. Also, the ability to constantly head to the porcelain god or lay down in a bed becomes a luxury that you are incredibly thankful for on a daily basis. I'm not saying that Trek staffers develop the Tom Hanks in Castaway syndrome where we choose to sleep on the floor of the hotel room instead of the king-size bed, but to a certain extent you learn to deal with some of the minor hardships in life in a more evenhanded manner.

It doesn't necessarily matter that something falls on the floor before you eat it or that each mattress is not perfectly adjusted to your sleep number. You become thankful for the opportunity to head inside to escape the rain instead of running to a crewfly or your tent. In some small way, I become detached from the world when I return each week.

I do not watch the clouds as closely as I do on trail, nor do I sense each breath of wind that passes through the trees. Back here, I've learned to insulate myself from the churning rhythm of the earth. I'm ensconced in my small creature comforts and somehow I think I'm the worse for it.

With the Words You've Borrowed From the Only Place You've Known

Congratulations to Mr. Dan Carlson for correctly naming "Decatur, or Round of Applause for Your Stepmother!" by Sufjan Stevens as the Sunday Song of the Day. You'll remember Dan as one of the proud majority shareholders in Team Jodayyy and as the current leader of the "Palace and Friends" March Madness (NCAA Trademark) Pool. Dan, if you think this isn't a conscious attempt to jinx you, well you have another thing coming.

This afternoon, as we sat and listened to a presentation from an attorney at Hunton & Williams during LAPP, something pretty neat happened. This is not to say that the presentation was not interesting, but something really good was happening outside of Room 127. I love those moments when the heavens just open up and rain comes pouring down in what can only be described as a deluge.

I began to think about how I view rain in the different contexts of life. When I was younger, rain was something that stood in the way of playing outside, but when the rain stopped, oh, that's when the fun began. We would go out and ride our bikes through the huge puddles that would develop on Gatewood. I'm pretty sure that my Mom didn't like doing laundry after those days due to the fact that I would have a racing stripe up and down my back from the muddy spray that came off of my back wheel, but when you are doing laundry for a young boy, your standards can't be too high.

I thought about all the times on Trek that I have spent a rainy night under a crew fly or in a tent. Out on the trail, the rain was often the thing that I dreaded the most. Well, besides the token kid who wanted to complain about eating Vienna Sausages. Trust me, that argument carries no merit with someone who has to eat them throughout the summer. If you ever have me on trail (which this summer is probably the last time), don't even try that sob story with me, but I digress.

Today, as I sat in the classroom, I was reminded again that spring has arrived. Besides seeing the bluebonnets bloom along the roadways, nothing signals the beginning of Spring better than a good, soaking rainstorm. As I observe the changes in the seasons and the renewal of the earth, I am reminded that my life is an everchanging process. Just as sometimes we must walk through the winter, Spring is always around the corner. I can't wait to see what it brings.

Sister, Here is What I Know Now, It Goes Like This

I'm not sure where this restlessness that has overtaken me lately is coming from. Perhaps it is the fact that I see my friends settling down into relationships, jobs, and new cities, but I know that I am still in transition for a few more years. Then again, aren't we always in transition?

Something funny happened last weekend when I stayed at my friend Brandon's house in Boerne for the weekend. On Sunday morning as we sat down to eat breakfast, I looked around the table. I looked to my right at my friend Garrett and his wife, Michelle. I looked further down the table at Shane and his wife, Crystal. I looked to their right and saw Brandon and his fiance', Amber. Finally, I looked to my left and saw Jacob and his wife, Emily. Then I quasi-looked at myself, the single guy.

Now, before you yell at me to stop having my own pity party, don't worry, I've already decided that's not going to happen. I make that observation for this reason. I realize that I am at this point in my life for a reason. The secret to a happy life is learning to become content with where you are and not simply wishing that you were always with someone or somewhere different. Is this process an easy one? Certainly not, but it seems that the truly good things never are in this life.

Everything Under the Sun is in Tune

My good friend Mason Orr shared the following quote with me recently and it seems very applicable at this season in my life.

"When nothing seems to help, I go look at a stonecutter hammering away at his rock perhaps a hundred times without as much as a crack showing in it. Yet at the hundred and first blow it will split in two, and I know it was not that blow that did it, but all that had gone before.”--Jacob Riis

Some days you just have to go out and pound the rock.

Oh, What Good is It to Live with Nothing Left to Give, Forget, but Not Forgive, Not Loving All You See

Congratulations to Andrew Tuegel for correctly naming "One" by U2 as the Wednesday Song of the Day.

One of the most interesting facets of writing in this space for the last 2 or so years has been my attitude towards the number of comments that I receive on a given post. When I started writing in October 2004, I was actually surprised when anyone would actually sit down to read what I had written. Over time, I began to take comments for granted and simply expected that people would provide feedback on each post. I began to notice as trends developed between the number of comments that I would receive on a given post and the subject matter.

I discovered that the more honest and forthcoming that I was on a given post, there seemed to be a smaller number of comments. At first, I was somehow troubled by this. Someone even sent me an email and told me to not be disappointed simply because people were not responding to posts that somehow required more of me than those that talked about pop culture or sports. During the period that I have written here, I have come to expect that the truly emotional, gut-wrenching posts are those that do not receive any comments.

I understand why. It almost seems voyeuristic to provide sympathy or true emotional honesty in such a cold, antiseptic place as "cyberspace", but the truth is, it's not really about the comments. It's about using this outlet in a variety of ways and allowing my words to communicate the things that I have allowed to roll around in my head for days, weeks, months, and years.

One of the stories that has really resonated with me this year is the Israelites' journey to Canaan. The theme of leaving something that was safe and well-known and striking out through the wilderness towards a "promised land" really resonates with me at this juncture of my life. Leaving Abilene and all my friends in May, enduring a painful break-up at the end of the summer, and moving to a new city with new adventures has reminded that at some points in our life we must walk through a veritable wilderness.

Now, Waco is not that bad, but these past few months have been a time of tremendous growth. Growth is usually a beneficial process, but is not necessarily a painless one. I am reminded each day that as I endure the "wilderness", the "promised land" is out there in the distance. It might be easy to think that the "promised land" is graduation, summer, a relationship, etc. , but I think it's more than that. It's about learning that life is this constantly changing and evolving process where we are never complete, never finished, and have never arrived. Oh sure, we'll arrive when we stop breathing one day, but I'm learning that a large part of life is simply taking that next step because you never know what tomorrow will bring.

War, Children, It's Just a Shot Away

It's kind of fun to look back at what I've written here in the past. It also has the potential to be haunting. Sometimes, I'll just sit down and read through an entire month of posts from a year or two ago. It helps to remind me of what was running through my mind at the time and why I thought some things were so important while other things were left by the wayside.

For instance, last year's Valentine's Day post was rife with my disdain for Lloyd Dobler of Say Anything fame and how he set the romantic bar impossibly high for modern men. I now recognize that post was the product of a mind that was trying to sort through relationship doubts and questions, but it does make wonder, what have I learned in this past year?

Yesterday, when I interviewed with the U.S. Attorney's Office for the Eastern District of Texas, they asked me a simple question: Why did you come to law school? My answer had something to do with the fact that the law is this dynamic force that is not incredibly unlike a river in that it is constantly changing and developing. It seems to me that lawyers belong to a class of people that are constantly learning, developing, and growing. That's what I want in life. Andy told Red, "Get busy livin' or get busy dying," and that's what I'm trying to do.

By learning from what has passed and anticipating what is to come, hopefully I'm becoming a better man. I know that in this past year I've made some mistakes and hurt some people, but that's not who I am at my core. I know that everything is not going to be set straight in an instant or a weekend, but I'm trying to make things right. As I mentioned earlier in the week, I'm really looking forward to heading to Abilene this weekend. Sure, it's going to be great to watch Sing Song, but most of all I want to be with a lot of the people who have helped to shape me into the person that I am today.

If that's the lesson that I've learned, I think it's been a pretty good year.

Are You a Lucky Little Lady In the City of Light?

It was good to finally meet Stephen Baker, the man behind the scenes at Poseur, tonight at the flag football games. I would be interested to see just how many of us who are frequent bloggers here at BLS actually know each other or speak on a daily basis.

I've actually found that through these first two years some of my most frequent readers (if there are any such people) are people that I do not talk to on a daily basis, but who read this blog to keep up with what's going on in my small part of the world. I'm not sure what that means exactly for how the internet works to make the world a smaller place, but it was just a thought.

Current Reading

Ladies and Gentlemen, The Bronx is Burning: 1977, Baseball, Politics, and the Battle for the Soul of a City by Jonathan Mahler

I've been thinking a great deal lately about what it means to be content with who you are and where you are. Part of me realizes that one of the secrets of life is learning to never be content, but to always be involved in the process of growing, learning, stretching, and moving towards these distant horizons where everything is going to fit together. I realize that this is the American in me.

The other part of me realizes that life is learning to be happy where you are right now. Because that's life. You are where you are. That seems incredibly simplistic, but I think it's true. Right here, right now is all that I have and I need to learn to be satisfied with where I am. If all my life is this constant yearning for a place that never actually comes, what kind of life is that? The secret is to savor the moments that I have been given today, for that is all I have.

But of All These Friends and Lovers, There is No One That Compares With You

Congratulations to Joey for correctly naming "Bittersweet Symphony" by the Verve as the Wednesday Song of the Day.

It's been kind of funny lately. Maybe I'm just putting this pressure on myself, but I've felt this interesting tension recently. As I sit down to write here, I think about the various readers that will come to this site, or more likely stumble across it, in the span of a day.


Some of the readers are probably my fellow students from Baylor Law, others are close friends from my time at ACU, and some are others that I have known for much longer (my parents, friends from home, etc.) The tension that I feel from this is the search for what will keep people interested in what I have to say here. I am keenly aware that if I talk to much about the everyday minutiae of law school life, I may lose one category of readers, but if I talk too much about what happened in the past, I risk losing readers from the present.


Perhaps all of this so-called "pressure" seems a bit comical because it is not as if I am actually going to lose anything by losing readers, but it's a bit like Oscar Wilde once said, "The only thing worse than being talked about is not being talked about."
The answer that I have come up with to this "dilemma" is to simply continue to speak what is on my mind. Perhaps it will cause people who read this blog to think about something that they had not thought about that day or allow them to take a peek into my thought processes (as dangerous as that might be).


This might seem a bit like a wasted post, but I needed to sit down and work some of this out before I continued to write in the future. Thanks for continuing to read everyone. I'll be back tomorrow.