I’ve lead a fulfilled life. I’ve gotten to do things that I never dreamed were possible. I’ve driven cross country with friends, surfed a hurricane, lived a significant percentage of my life overseas, fought, resisted, and rekindled my relationship with my parents, studied everything from history to geology to Sigmund Freud to art history. I’ve gotten to spend summers in vastly different parts of the United States – from the rolling verdant hills of Vermont to the white and off-gray streets of Washington DC to the suburbs of Houston. I’ve gotten to do everything from run a 400 meter dash in freezing rain to surfing Gulf mush in lukewarm bath water with dolphins to running underneath a scarlet sunset peeking through the forests of Middlebury. I’ve gotten to remember grand old times with my friends in Germany, nearly 10 years ago and at the same time establish new friendships, acquaintances and memories while treasuring everything that came before. I’ve gotten to run on two different continents and have plans to run on three or four more. I’ve been incredibly blessed with a fantastic and supportive family, brother, and fiancee. I couldn’t have ever asked for anything more. I’ve met people from all walks of life, different attitudes, interests, and personalities. And I’ve never regretted meeting any of them, no matter how annoying. I’ve gotten to drive 1,400 miles overnight and ride 60 minutes on a bike to swim and track practice. I’ve gotten to bomb hills on a skateboard and paddle along a flat ocean. I’ve gotten to save people as a lifeguard, serve people at McDonalds, and tell people to get lost in Washington DC. I’ve been humbled, praised, cursed, and thanked. Sometimes in the same day. I’ve learned to appreciate the finer points of baseball, music, and art. And I’ve learned to dismiss the pretentiousness in doing so. I’ve become dependent on technology. I’ve learned to do without. I’ve gone from refusing any and all alcohol to accepting it in appropriate amounts to saying ’screw it’ and giving in to temptation – a choice that I often regret the morning after. I’ve learned to observe, to be considerate, to accept and maintain my opinion. I’ve slept under the stars in California and Arizona and wandered the streets of Köln and Celle late at night. I’ve laughed with friends about stupid things and consoled them when dealing with more serious matters. I’ve sat in cars longer than some international flights. I’ve gone to sleep at 9PM only to wake up at noon; I’ve gone to bed at 5AM for a 9AM appointment. I’ve pulled all-nighters for fun, for school, for friends, and for nothing in particular. I’ve stayed true to my beliefs while considering those different than my own. I’ve pursued the hobbies I admired as a child as far as I can – and plan on pursuing them until I croak. I’ve dismissed coffee in lieu of tea and I’m proud of it. I’ve been embarrassed, both privately and publicly. I’ve made mistakes and I’ve tried to learn from them, however successful those attempts might have been. I’m not afraid to critique myself, but I’m also not afraid to give credit to my accomplishments. I am always opening to learning or trying something new. Always. I’ve been horrible at maintaining relationships – and I’ve been perfect at losing contact. Thank God for email. I’d like to think that I’ve taken advantage of every opportunity that’s come my way. And for that, I am truly grateful. I’ve been tired, rested, energetic, lazy, drunk, sober, pious, and anything but. And I’ve never regretted any of it. I can only learn from everything I’ve experienced, with the hope of someday helping my children or relatives. I’m not afraid to indulge but I am wary of excess. I think that every little bit helps, even if it mathematically doesn’t. I think learning happens more often outside of a classroom than inside one. I think you can be nostalgic without warping the past. I think you can always give one special person your very best without trying. I can’t claim to be in the best physical shape of my life, but I can state that I do all I can to stay healthy. I’ve tried to be responsible as I can be without being a sap. I’ve covered for people, lied for my own sake, and have been brutally honest. I’ve accepted my fate at times and have argued that you can control your fate just a few days later. I’ve helped people, I’ve criticised people, I’ve judged people, I’ve praised people and have come to realize that I see people in my own personal image – something that needs to change. I need to change. But I also need to hold true to what makes me, me. I am thankful for all the people I’ve met. WIthout out the people, the many places, things, events, and memories would be empty. I’m thankful for every step I ever took on a track, either for a workout or for a race. I remember the pre-race jitters, the pain at the end, the euphoric feeling of having accomplished something, and the draining exhaustion immediately thereafter. I recall being nervous stepping into a classroom and not understanding the language. I remember stepping into a class 8 years later supremely confident in the same language, only to start from scratch 2 years later. Has it really been that long? I remember running to an elevator, sleeping in the guest bed of a professor, going on runs, dinners out, football games, and trips to respective houses. And the fountain. And three special words And four more that followed nearly three years later. I remember camping at the beach, faces lit by the orange-red of the campfire, surfing at first dawn and last light. Taking walks along the beach and teaching others to surf. Finding waves to ride at Surfside TX, South Padre, Florida, San Diego and South Carolina with sights set on Mexico, Costa Rica, and the Maldives (and maybe Morocco.) The feeling of the wave beneath my feet, the feeling of the ocean long after I’ve left. The soft touch of the sand when I wipe out and the crack of the jetty when I jump wrong. The taste of the salt and the burn of the sun. I’ve traveled light. I’ve traveled heavy. By car, plane, train, and ship. I’ve planned things months in advance. I’ve also flown my the seat of my pants. I’ve blown my ears out at concerts and clubs. I’ve relaxed by sizzling campfires and grills. I’ve danced like an idiot and made fun of those who look equally silly. I’ve flown kites in Tunisia along the Med. Ocean. I’ve pooped in the Med. Ocean when inTurkey. And I’ve taken a ship to Greece and a fastboat to Venice. I’ve blown wads of cash and I’ve pinched pennies. I’ve given hugs and thrown punches. I’ve taken 5 minute naps during a 15 minute car ride. I’ve stayed wide awake during 12 hour flights. I’ve encouraged people to do stupid things and I’ve helped people realize the consequences of their actions. I’ve been a victim and a perpetrator. I’ve felt confident as hell on an old aluminum road bike only to feel incredibly vulnerable skidding across the concrete. I’ve seen Big Ben at night, New York during the day, the East Coast during the spring and the West Coast during the summer. I’ve been scared. And I’ve scared people. I’ve whistled when no one’s listened. And when everyone can hear me. There are so many people and so many memories that I won’t ever be able to write everything down. Some stories will die with me. And some will live on long after I’m gone from this world. I’ve realized my own mortality and feel invulnerable at the same time. I’m a walking contradiction. And I’m OK with that. I’ve convinced myself of my genius only to be humiliated and corrected later. I’ve seen people shooting up in the streets. I’ve seen people walking on their knees to a holy shrine. I’ve had to be aware of Ramadan and of “beefburgers.” I’ve realized that people will immediately assume things about me based merely on physical appearance. And I’ve realized that I’ll do the same to others.
But the most important thing that I’ve realized in my 22 years on this Earth is that I love you Jess. And when it’s all said and done, when friends and acquaintances drift away and memories lose their luster and gradually fade away into nothing and the hazy zone of forgetfulness, I always know that I’ll love you – unconditionally and without restrictions. I know there are parts of my life that you’ll never be part of. That’s fine. But I am so happy to spend the rest of it with you. At the end of the day, I realize that I have my flaws and my good traits. I realize that I have experienced in 22 years what some people experience in a lifetime. And for that I truly am eternally grateful. I may have celebrated Independence Day in 1996 in Frankfurt International Airport getting cozy with Mr. Barf Bag, the porcelain throne, and Ms. Suppository and turned 16 on an Atlantic flight from London Heathrow to Bush International in Houston but it is not what defines me. I realize that I am not happy because of all that I have experienced but rather what we will experience together. In the future. And now. Be here now. Together. I am supremely happy Jess – and it’s because of you and the life that we will share together with our families, children, friends and relatives. And someday, when I can’t go up stairs anymore, when I have trouble picking things up off the ground, when I can hear you yell at me for dribbling soup all over the rug, I’ll close my eyes and remember this moment and others. I know we’ll grow old together. We can’t stop age, no matter how hard we try. And I don’t care if I age gracefully or not. All I know is that I’ll be happy with you. And knowing that I don’t regret anything in my life makes me excited for us and everything else we’ll experience.
I love you Jess. 
