There’s no place like Whistler, Nashville. 

These past few months may have been the most beautiful chapter of my entire life.

How sweet a thought it is that even these will not be the best days of my life?


I have never felt more at home. Y’all made fun of me the first night of the Grand Meetup in Whistler. I knew that, if I drank, the extremely awkward and clumsy inner me would come out (with all her doubling-entendre innuendos pouring forth) and I would “embarrass myself.”

You’ve taught me that’s not possible with you. I have never felt more love and acceptance in my entire life.

We look out for each other.

We respect each other.

We are Sparta.

I kept waiting for the other shoe to fall, but you are some of the most genuine people I’ve ever met. Somewhere in my youth or childhood, I must have done something good to find myself surrounded by true warriors.

We play just as hard as we work. It’s no wonder I am stumbling off this plane, barely able to keep my eyes open; I have nothing left to give, having spent it all with you fine people.

My one regret: We did not find either Taylor Swift or her guitar. Guess we’ll just have to help out next year at WCUS, Jeremey.

I am proud of the work we did, the projects we started and finished, the tickets we completed above and beyond. We do what we do and excel at it.

Heading home, I am overwhelmed by fragments of memory that I dearly wish I would never forget.

A rooftop deck overlooking a river, throwing back shots and drinks because we’re Sparta, and one of us just turned twenty-eight.

The glare on Charlie’s face when I sent the second projectile missile flying at him during the joint A12 dinner. He never did find the real perp. xD

Gathering around a massive table and getting shit done. Feeling both proud and kind of amazed at the work we accomplished in so short a time.

Late nights of talking and head’s up and drinking.

Line dancing and bus riding and country music spilling from every doorway.

Having an in-person pitcrew to my right and left and cracking jokes during Livechat during the Spartan/Air Cross-Training.

Exhausted and distracted, I wonder if this is really my life.

And yet, with the sands of time, the memories are already fading.

Until next time, Sparta.



Turning 28: Nashville in Selfies

Life Lesson: Coffee and alcohol are not food groups. Combined and condensed, they result in poor (but extremely fun) choices.

I’m pretty sure I aged an entire year in a week:

Going to a Team Meetup is like living through an entire year’s worth of college crammed into a handful of days, except the people you’re surrounded with are the most genuine, incredible, talented and downright best people you will ever meet.

Dionysus meets Ponos, sleep be damned.

According to everyone I talked to, this was “going easy” for Sparta compared to their first meetup.

If next year is anything like this one, I may not survive. No better way to go, though, eh?


Nashville Bound!

The last time I flew Frontier, I met a rather colorful cast of characters. While pondering what eccentric individual I might meet today, it occurred to me that flying at the very back of a discount flight severely limits any random celebrity encounters I might find on my way to Nashville.

Hmm. I’m flying United next time.