I’m sitting the base of Columbia towers in Seattle Washington. Waiting for this complete badass lover of mine to climb sixty-nine flights of stairs. One thousand three hundred and fifty-six steps of tenacity. Seven hundred and eighty-eight feet of grit. The Scott Fire Fighter stair climb supports the lymphoma leukemia foundation. It’s raised about five million dollars over the last two years to help support children and adults coping the vicious form of cancer. The Fighters that come here take each hard fought step as they pass pictures of patients that have over come a few fights, and some that have not. More motivation to drive them when their legs are shaking, and their mind is telling them that it’s okay to rest. They volunteer, amass in in their gear, and once again fight on the line for a community of people that can’t fight on their own. In return some of us get to give a small monetary donation in their name, and maybe be fortunate enough to cheer them on as they help a cause that is worth fighting for, in a time when it’s hard to find people willing to fight.


I’m lucky. I get to be by my partners side as she checks in, gets her gear settled, and finds the zone she often finds when she is about to slay another obstacle. I get to sit here, listening to the orchestra of voices and cheers from family members and various loved ones who have gathered in support of their person who is making the climb. If you ask the fighters, the climb is not that important. While the company is great, the side competitions are always fun, the challenge is worth mentioning, and lets face it, sweating it out with your team is always worth a few steps; it is the service that draws them here. It’s doing something Uncommon in support of a greater cause, in support of something that makes a difference, a service that may at some point make a difference for someone they know and love. It’s the same call that drew them to serve with their brothers and sisters in the first place. A greater voice that pulled at them, drew at them relentlessly, and they knew exactly what it was saying when they listened. “I was fucking made for this shit.”


It’s something that people who live in the service line don’t take for granted. LEO’s, Fire Fighters, EMS, Military; Badasses like Kelsey Chase (the fighter I’ve been talking about) and her Crew at Chelan County 1 live by it. Humans beings doing Uncommon things, like Ryan Sutton with the Uncommon Breed, and Zach Filer with his Mod Squad at Northwest Strength and Performance. Living Uncommon isn’t a tag line, it’s survival, a way of life that permits them to wake up breathing and fighting another day. A constant practice at being a better human being, and then helping others find their inner ninja so they can do the same. Like Kurtis and Laurie at Rainer Crossfit, or my family that I get to coach with here at Crossfit Wenatchee. Or any other countless people out there that affect change, and build a better place to live. Not loud and thunderous, but like mother fucking ninjas, silent operators, architects – designing change and erecting it without the pomp and circumstance that is so fickle this days.


It’s sad really, that more don’t get to serve. But I guess that’s why you’re Uncommon and they’re not.


Hard Times Make Hard People. Live Uncommon.


I remember thinking as a kid, how awesome it would be to have some sort of fantastical powers. To be able wave a wand and make things happen with a thought, or a spell. To be able to vanquish my enemies with the simple flick of my hand, sending them flying away in a tornado, or turn them into a slug. Maybe I could’ve been a super hero with lightening speed, or unbelievable strength, or be able to turn invisible, or grow the size of a small building and be indestructible, to fly and jump, to be able to heal with a single touch, read minds, or make fireballs fly out of my hands. Yep, too freaking cool.


While there is no shortage of do gooder, fight for the side of justice characters to choose from. I found that my favorite wizards and heroes were far from squeaky clean; I guess I’ve always lived in more of a grey area. Rugged wizards with hidden strengths. Super heroes with troubled minds: Gandalf the Grey, Cable, Gambit, Deadpool, The Punisher, Wolverine, Spawn, Savage Dragon, GI Joe, or Magnum P.I. …Not always the strongest in power, or prettiest, or coolest ability, but, always much more fun.


At thirty-six, I can say with a clear conscious that this hasn’t changed a bit. I look at the world around me. I see what my loved ones go through daily, and I wish I had super powers. I wish could right the wrongs, and heal wounds, and fly to the rescue, or cast spells to make it all go away. I might also think of some very Weasly like practical jokes that I would like to play on a few deserving souls. How awesome it would be to have a kick ass super suit, and a badass locker room full of laser cannons and blasters; just saying. Magic, super heroes, galactic travel, battling aliens, monsters, evil villain’s, and fighting along side a smoking hot super hero like Rogue, or Domino, or a space wrangler like Kara “Starbuck” Thrace, or Zoe Washburn. Yep, pretty fucking Rad.


Okay, so I get it, this might seem like an unrealistic and very childish notion. But as

Veterans day passed, and Thanksgiving is one plastic container away from being gone, and I’ve flipped through all my memories and pictures on Facebook, and maybe some of my old comics… I am reminded that it’s not that far fetched. I get to fight along side a smoking hot super hero and space wrangler every day. I have been in the company of the worlds best bad asses, and fought along some of Earths greatest heroes. I live in a house that is full of little warriors and a warrior princess, charging at the day with Nerf guns and window rods–I mean magic scepters/microphone. I get to work with a team that makes Wizarding seem like child’s play, and make Cylons look like Wall-E.


My point being, as the end of November is creeping through our window, and we are wondering what the Hell is going on all around us, it’s okay to remember that we are surrounded by a world that is more than anything we could ever imagine. It’s not a black and white world we live in; it’s varying shades of different colors, against the grey of a badass blaster.


Hard times make hard people. Live Uncommon.

Why move?

Why move? Why lift heavy weight, run, jump, pull, press, push, flex, extend, and squat? Well, besides the obvious answers like: its what we are meant to do, it will make us stronger, or faster, or more limber, or look like a sexy beast before beach season. Why? Why do we do anything in this life that caters to sofa life and obliges the non activant? We don’t have to leave the house except to work, and even then, more and more humans are working from home. We don’t have to gather our gear and migrate because of the season. We don’t have to hunt, and prepare our own food. We don’t have to carry heavy objects, weld large, bulky weapons, or hike long distances to our destination. So why?

It’s a question that we should all ask ourselves, and we should ask it often. Here’s by take; I do because I fucking can. Pretty simple. I’m not going to be the one that has to spend six months in rehab because I threw my back out lifting up my grandchild. I’m not going to be the one who sits silent when someone needs help  because I haven’t built up the intestinal fortitude to do something about it. I’m not going to allow myself to be the one who can’t run to the aid of my family, my friends, countrymen, my soldiers, or any stranger that may need me to run to them, or run them to safety. I won’t allow myself to loose my functionality. What would I be if I didn’t fight to be better everyday when I have the capacity and the evolution to do so. I fight for me, for my minis, and for my future wife. I fight everyday to move better, to live better, to be better in all aspects of my life; and believe me that makes for a long list, so I know I won’t get bored anytime soon. I fight to be bigger, better, faster, stronger, form my family, for my friends, and for you, you who I will never forget. At least that’s what I strive for.

Maybe instead of asking why, we should ask why not? Get out there and move. Lift heavy shit. Be a badass. Because today we need badasses.

more than talking heads

Conversations. The kind that make you get lost in time and space, and let the world around you melt away. True, heart, soul, and mind compelling conversation. Conversations about anything, and everything; about current world problems, about the day to come, or the day that happened. Maybe they’re conversations about what your kids are doing, what’s going on at work, or about your dreams. Maybe they’re about planning a fantastical adventure, a new love in your life, or about any countless number of the ever-changing canvases we call life.


There is nothing else that replaces a great conversation. One held over coffee, the breakfast table, on the back patio, over a camp fire, in the den, or while laying in bed with the one you love. It’s one of the ways we problem solve, grow, laugh, reflect, breathe, love, become closer with each other, learn, adapt, resolve conflict, or any other of the endless ways we try to be better humans.


It is something that is growing more and more challenging every day, but it is something that is irreplaceable in this life.


Wishing you some good conversations today.




Change is good. Terrifying. Challenging. Sad. Horrible. Exciting. Brilliant. Perfect. Change is inevitable. Without it we become stagnant, and die a slow mundane, agonizing death.

With change comes growth, with growth comes experience and knowledge, with experience and knowledge we can have a better understanding of ourselves, of those around us, and of this fantastical world we live in.

I’ve had a lot of change recently, most people do. Some of it controlled and on purpose, others, not so much. In all this change I know a few things. One: I ‘m still breathing. As long as I’m still breathing I have a chance. Two: I still have more things to be happy about than not. I have a beautiful family, fierce friends, and a lot of hope. Three: This shits too easy. Work hard, play hard, and love harder. One step at a time, one leap, one hand hold, one giant breath in, we can make magical stories happen everyday.

Go have new adventures. Run into new stories. Make explosive changes. And be relentless in your quest to be as alive as you can be.


Be better, because you aren’t helpless



Rummblings and Mummblings

I often wonder how we can fix America, fix this world; I think about it all the time really, so much so, that many nights it keeps me up, and lately has consumed much of the conversations that I’ve had with others. The usual conclusion is that we can’t, we’re fucked.

Lately, I’ve been thinking we’re not as bad off as I thought. Yes, our political landscape doesn’t look so hot, and who knows where our overseas agendas lay, but here, at home, we have a chance. I say that because I see people everyday working their asses off to try and make this place better for those around them. I see parents raising beautiful, brilliant, fantastical children. I see young humans helping older, more frail humans. I see almost magical new discoveries in science and innovation daily. And I see problem solving in small groups, that breed thoughts and ideas that turn into life changing actions.

So here is what I think we can do: Quit bitching and take action. Make yourself better. Be the best person you can be. Be healthy, be fit in mind, body and spirit, then help others achieve that same goal. Stop worrying about what the things that you can’t change, and work on the ones you can. Take a good look at yourself, a real look. Are you happy with what you see? Can you be better? How can you possible think to change the world around you if you aren’t the change yourself?


Be better, because you aren’t helpless



The write life

Have you ever had one of those moments when you are so involved in what you are doing, that everything else around you melts into oblivion? It’s like that moment you knew you were in love. It could have been on a knobby green hill, floating away on a first kiss. Maybe a dance, when you swear your feet never touched the floor. It’s like making love; being so close that both your sweaty bodies feel as if they are romping together as one.

Well there are not many times that we have the opportunity to run away like this, but it does happen. For me, after the falling in love, and sex bit, it is writing. Yes, sometimes it happens when I’m working out, or doing a competition, but with writing I escape and live in a world that makes me have to fight to come back to my home plane. There are times when I have the rare opportunity of getting so lost, that I wake up when I’m done, not showered, starving, and lost as to where the days went.

I finished a recent manuscript, that I was trying to get finished and submitted to a publisher during an open submission period, and I missed it. I missed it by a mere matter of minutes. My fault, it was stupid. I did, however, finish a story that was so much fun writing, I am going to continue to get lost in it, and at some point invite others to get lost in it too.

Hope yo get lost today, in all the right ways.