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The old man raised me from the age of four. I used to think that no two men could ever be less alike. Over the years I slowly realized, grudgingly at first, that no two men could ever be more alike, especially two men not related by blood. Both of us stubborn and prideful, we had a falling out that led to ten years of silence. The last six years have been a crash course in self realization and acceptance. It slowly dawned on me over the years that the old man taught me almost everything I know. I got to decide whether or not this was for better or for worse. It’s only been recently I opted for better. These pieces are a chronicle of that process. They are also a little bit of his story. The old man died January 24, 2016.


Election Day. 95 degrees in sunny LA. I came back from a short run, took a shower, and turned on the TV, …


Calico 50K, 2016

Calico 50K was the first ultra I ever ran, six years ago. My bib number for that race was 666, which disturbed …

Trans Canada Highway

The Old Man’s Last Winter

The old man is dying. This is a series of notes I wrote while visiting him in Canada. Return of the Prodigal …

Salton Sea

Smell the Barn

The old man isn’t getting any better. “Experience Vibrant Seniors Living!” says the brochure for Rocky Ridge Retirement Community. It doesn’t seem …

Vancouver Island

The Old Man, pt. 2

The old man is in his 80s now. He’s not doing so well. Always taciturn except when drunk (and, often, even then), …

Bart & Bernice

The Old Man & the Wedding

My stepfather and I had not talked in 14 years. Our relationship had never been that terribly close because we’re both suspicious, …