That One Hippie Song

I remember hearing some old hippie song that talked about there being a right time and place for everything. That there are cycles to life, and in due time what needs to happen will in fact happen. It's a pretty cool song. Well, I got to thinking about that song a while back when my friends and I from Comal Crossfit began to kick around the idea of doing another heavy marathon. That is, completing a marathon with a 35 pound ruck sack on our back. We had considered doing the Bataan Memorial Death March again, but we figured that we could all use a change of scenery.

The Smoky Mountains of Tennessee

After talking it over, a big group of us, nearly 20 in all, have decided to head east this time to the Smoky Mountains of Tennessee. There is a race there called the Mountain Man Memorial March. It's the same as Bataan in that it is a full marathon with a 35 pound ruck on, but it is held every year to honor a younger generation of Americans.

Anyway, my beautiful wife insisted that the old blog get dusted off and fired up again since I want to step in the Arena. I guess that time has rolled around once more. The season of rucking is here. There were literally dozens of people that read my blog last spring so what the heck. Here it goes again. I just wish I could remember the words to that old hippie song.

For everything there is a season,

a time for every activity under heaven.

A time to be born and a time to die. 

A time to plant and a time to harvest.

A time to kill and a time to heal.

A time to tear down and a time to build up.

A time to cry and a time to laugh.

A time to grieve and a time to dance.

A time to scatter stones and a time to gather stones.

A time to embrace and a time to turn away.

A time to search and a time to quit searching.

A time to keep and a time to throw away.

A time to tear and a time to mend.

A time to be quiet and a time to speak.

A time to love and a time to hate.

A time for war and a time for peace.