HeyJaredNotes from JL.
Musings on the intersections of running, poetry, love, work, and travel.
- Indexed issues, last 90 days
- 4
- Latest publication
- Sep 9, 2026
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- Earliest in this view
- Jul 19, 2026
Latest issues
Nature isn’t free. (opens the original)
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We pull up to sit at a collection of red plastic tables with the word “Ola” printed across them, all coupled with red-and-white striped umbrellas. Most tables have ashtrays; the majority of the ceramic trays hold a few scrunched cigarettes. Apricot-cream-coloured walls surround our table, all with little-to-no graffiti. Men walk past with their sticks, dragging their feet, and muffling late-morning greetings. The women of the town sit relaxed and tall across the street and occasionally give a “B
Learn to ride a bike. Learn to fix a bike. (opens the original)
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Perched at the kitchen table, taking a slow start to the day, I look at my reflection, and I see a bandit. Something bank-robber-esque. It’s me. All morning, I’ve pottered around with a merino wool balaclava on. With my newly fashioned bald head (it still feels new, even though I shaved my hair off in March), I feel the cold a little more. Mostly, I notice it on the bike. I love riding bikes. Yet, since moving to Melbourne, I haven’t cycled as much as I’d like. Sadly, my global tourer, a Trek bi
Goodnight, August 9th. (opens the original)
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It’s 10:00 pm, and I best be sleeping. I know my “sleep latency” will be short. I’m sure I fell asleep in under 30 seconds last night. At least, that’s how it felt. I’ve managed to prioritise running back-to-back long runs this weekend. Twenty-five kilometres on Saturday, and 18 kilometres on Sunday. In abnormal fashion, I ran in the late afternoon on both days. Afternoon running is typically harder on the mind; late in the day, my brain is often weighed down by decision fatigue and cognitive lo
Lost my sense of being an ocean. (opens the original)
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I slept in this morning. I woke to the smell of friends making coffee and the distant crackle of sizzling bacon. Like most mornings, my face was puffy, so before facing the noise and the energy of our friend’s 6-year-old in the kitchen, I washed my face, moisturised, and then used my Gua Sha tool to move some blood around. I still haven’t refined the scraping, or more eloquently put, “massaging” technique of Gua Sha, but I’m certain it does something. When done consistently, it’s meant to reduce
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