Today I was running in the hills. I ran beside gorgeous spring flowers and through morning light, piercing the treetops. It was stunning, cold, and raw.

I got lost. But it was an adventure.

This is what it’s all about, I thought to myself.

I’m alive to experience my body moving up and down through the world as my breath flows hard and clear in front of me and dirt kicks up on my legs and my hands go stiff and red.

That’s what my spirit craves.

Training in the gym is a wonderful thing, and there’s absolutely nothing wrong with a gym routine. But to me it gets old after a while.

After a bit, I try to switch it up with an imperfect outdoor workout rather than stick to my perfectly tailored gym sessions.

As I ran today, I thought about how this relates to my career and what I ultimately want.

Running outside gets dirty.

You might get lost, or rained on, or burnt. But it’s an adventure.

You can obviously build an incredible body in the gym, but sometimes I wonder what’s the point?

I’m not alive to be a gym rat. It’s part of my routine, as I know what I’m getting.

But after a while it gets boring. Sterile.

That’s how I see building my career. It’s been eight years since going all in on my dreams, and I’m still bobbing and weaving on this path.

I’ve had to work day jobs to sustain my creative pursuits; these are the routine, the stability.

But they’re a means to an end, not the end itself.

I’m going for my dreams as a writer.

It’s gonna be messy, and I might get lost many times along the way.

But at least it’s an adventure, and that, to me, is why we’re alive.