Tag Archive | tahiti

Life on Tahiti Time

This funny thing happened in Tahiti where time stopped. We were ensconced in a tropical paradise bubble where the sun rose and set but time didn’t actually move forward. I don’t think we aged the 10 days we were island-bound. Really, quantum physicists should check this out. It’s weird.

You see, time in my life has always been in relation to my goals. I’ve felt the clock ticking feverishly since I was a child.

How many days until Christmas?

How many days until school gets out?

I want to lose weight. How much time do I have before prom to do that?

I want to be an actress. How much time do I have? Let me stalk IMDB and see what age other actresses were when they got their breaks and I’ll compare myself until I’m satisfied.

I want to run a marathon. How much time do I have to train?

I want to get to the weekend. How many days until the weekend?

I want to leave work. What hand is on what number on that clock?

I want to be a writer. How much time will it take me to finish this manuscript? How early do I have to get up to get decent writing time in before I have to leave for work? How long will it take me to write 10,000 words. How long do I have to wait before I can resubmit to a different publisher. How long should I wait before I follow up about my submission? How long does it take for a manuscript to make it through the editorial pipeline and onto a bookshelf? How much time do I have left to do all of these things? Do I have enough time? Am I running out of time?

Oh screw it. *Goes on Facebook*

On October 5 I stepped onto the soil of Moorea. Time faded away. No change of seasons. No change of tides. No weekends. No happy hours. No deadlines. No race days. No age limits. No pipelines. No time. Just peace. Quiet. Adventure. Fun. Experience.

Here’s the thing though. I missed time. After 10 days I looked forward to stepping back onto my matrix of timelines. I didn’t want to leave paradise but like some sort of junkie I wanted the pressure of a clock ticking toward something, even if that something was just Halloween in two weeks. Am I crazy? Maybe it’s my Western-wired overly ambitious American brain. Probably. I left Tahiti grateful and rejuvenated by the extended pause. Now I’m ready to start the clock with a healthy perspective that my timelines are made up, they are relative, and they can change in an instant.

Tahiti gave my imagination an oasis to which I can always retreat. When time moves too quickly I will close my eyes and fly away to our beach of coral bones, and our Polynesian pups, and the night-light water and wise manta rays. I will go there and I will feel the clock slow. Thank goodness.

So I’m 31 and I’m not a published author yet. I will adjust my timeline. So it’s Tuesday and I’m facing four more days until the weekend. It’s just a day in time and space and the weekend is made up. I will do one thing today completely for myself that makes me feel free and suddenly I’ve turned Tuesday into a weekend. I’ve let time feel like the enemy in my life. I had to run 4,000 miles to discover that he was a villain of my own creation. Aren’t they always?

Our second to last day in French Polynesia I experienced a perfect moment. The sun sat low in the sky on the other side of the lagoon, shining a glorious warm pink light on the main island of Maupiti. It stood there, the mountain, basking in the warm pinkness of the sunset. Brad snorkeled by the reef, beyond where I could see him. I had just finished a good book. The Polynesian pups slept by my feet and roused as I stood to watch the sun go down. I could not see or hear another living human anywhere. For a brief moment I stood alone on this island with my Polynesian pups and the water and the mountain smiling into the sun. Everything felt warm in a sleepy ember sort of way. A perfect moment. The spirit moved me and I sang Never Never Land to the pups and to the mountain and to my husband out in the sea beyond where he could hear me. I stood there and sang at the top of my lungs as the sun set on our last day. It slipped behind a cloud, into the ocean, and as if on cue I felt the clock start ticking once again. Tick. Tock. Suddenly I understood what sort of vicious creature that Captain Hook was really running from. Brad came in from the sea. My siren song worked. He grabbed my hand and we retreated into our bungalow. Time to go home.

I have a place where dreams are born,
And time is never planned.
It’s not on any chart,
You must find it with your heart.
Never Never Land.

It might be miles beyond the moon,
Or right there where you stand.
Just keep an open mind,
And then suddenly you’ll find
Never Never Land.

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There Are Words For Paradise

We ran to Tahiti. After four years, nine months, and 1 day of dreaming, running, and planning, we are in Tahiti. We ran 4,109 miles to Tahiti and now we are here. Friends, family, and perfect strangers have cheered us on. And we are here.

I very much dislike the phrase “there are no words…” I’m guilty of using it, and at the very least feeling tempted to use it, especially on significant occasions. My wedding day. Crossing the finish line of my first marathon. Running to Tahiti. To feel so much all at once, each sense stimulated, oh how VERY tempting to sit back in that cornucopia of wonder and proclaim “There are no words!”

There are words. There are always wonderful words. Just as there exists a perfect combination of pigment to capture every color of the rainbow, there exists a perfect combination of words to describe every human experience under the sun. There are words. There are always words. What is undeniably difficult is putting them together in the right order – mixing the pigment. In moments such as this, having just returned from a day of snorkeling with dozens of blacktip sharks and kissing sting rays in a crystalline blue lagoon, the right words elude me. Having escaped to picnic on a tiny motu encircled by a seemingly infinite spread of coral reef, and having watched a Polynesian man named Siki teach my husband to open a coconut with his bare hands and a stick, and meet a real life Nemo in a mustard yellow anemone, and kiss a tiki God left stranded on the beach, and learnt to make ceviche from scratch, and stared in disbelief at the electric shade of turquoise that water can be, and did I mention the swimming with sharks? The words are tricky.

Words transported me here. In every story about a far off land. In every tale about a found paradise. Words are our first wings. We read and our minds travel where our eyes can’t yet go. One day we decide to seek the worlds our minds have created. We go in search of Hemingway’s Paris, and Dickens’ London, and Fitzgerald’s New York. We seek Tahiti – the island to which our imagination is already well acquainted. And when we do, we remember that words took us there first.

There are always words. Find the right ones in the right combination and take us where you are. We all want to go. Since I am currently in a magical land, I’ll go first.

I write this from the balcony of the oldest hotel in Moorea. It’s called Club Bali Hai and the lobby looks like a real life Enchanted Tiki Room. Each time I all but hear the name “Club Bali Hai” I sing the mysterious ballad from South Pacific. I bet you are now too. Since this is Moorea’s oldest hotel we are certain it’s haunted. The sun is set and there are only two lights I see in Tahiti. Brad and I of course, but mostly a mysterious pair across Cook’s bay, blinking on and off as if transmitting a code across the sea. I think about Gatsby, and the green light. These aren’t green, they are white, but just as mysterious. Why are those lights blinking? Who lives there? Do they know their lights are communicating? Below us, stray but friendly cats and dogs stroll across the lawn as if on a promenade. There are so many stray cats here, they ease the missing of my own two fur babies back home. How sad Sharky and Mr. Wizard can’t go on adventures. I’m certain they would rather be Polynesian cats chasing crabs. Crabs the size of mangoes that try to hide their presence creeping from hole to hole, which they’ve burrowed so desperately in the ground. How reluctantly these curmudgeonly crabs traverse where sky meets land. They so clearly prefer the under. Under the soil, under the sea. Why must they come up at all if perhaps only to show us that they exist? When the sun sets in Tahiti every other soul disappears. I swear Brad and I are the only humans on this island. All is quiet except the buzz of bugs, the click of crabs, and the gentle flutter of a man-made waterfall in a nearby swimming pool. The ocean is silent. The sun sets and each set of people obviously transports to an alternate dimension where they are the only inhabitants in their world, sitting on balconies in haunted hotels in the middles of the world’s largest oceans – waiting for the sun to rise, and the chance to collide with other sets of peoples in one shared paradise. Tomorrow a rooster will crow at approximately 6:30 am. Tomorrow we will dive below, and see what words can be said about Moorea under the sea.

I’m no master wordsmith but I believe such masters exist. Perhaps for me, and for you my readers, perhaps there are no words I can adequately assemble to paint you the picture of this paradise. I will keep trying, but until then… some terribly inadequate visuals to accompany my inadequate words. I finish today thinking of one word in particular. Gift. What a tremendous gift.

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The welcoming committee.

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Drinking fresh pineapple juice across the bay from where they grow the pineapples.

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That water though.

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Where the other half lives. Overwater bungalows at Intercontinental Resort.

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The motu (tiny island) where we had a Polynesian picnic.

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Tevas on the reef look a lot like coral. As I discovered two minutes later when a fish bit my foot.

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Snorkeling on the motu after lunch.

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Our delightful little Polynesian picnic hut. I seriously can’t stop thinking of Adventureland. Disney did a good job. All those real life adventures paid off. (Disney nerd alert!)

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Lessons from our guide Siki on the many ways to wear a pareo.

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Cooking with Siki. A show. Today’s episode, fresh ceviche.

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Soooo many chickens and roosters on this island.

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An inviting magic tropical forest on tiny magic motu.

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My morning routine. Practice a little French, drink a little coffee, and gaze at a mountain I’d like to climb rising from the sea.

Becky stingray pic

That’s the face of pure and utter joy. Standing in a tropical lagoon, crystal clear as a swimming pool, as sting rays and reef sharks cruise all around us and swim up our shoulders to say hello. Sure, they’re probably looking for food. But I like to think this one really liked me for me.

More to come…

What Running to Tahiti Taught Me About Money

I’m not bad with money, per se. Not horrible. I pay my bills on time, always, and keep a very organized record of my accounts. My problem is that I have bills in the first place. My problem is that I enjoy spending money and usually on things. I love things. Aren’t things awesome? I love shoe things and clothes things and book things. Yay things! Then I run to Tahiti, and I realize that things are not actually purchased with money. They are purchased with units of my life. Yikes. My life is made up of a lot of running shoes.

Money is just an invention, right? It’s a placeholder, but for what? For time. So when I spend $80 on a pair of discount Asics that I don’t reeeeally need I’m not giving away $80. I’m giving away approximately 4 hours of my life. You may be willing to trade cold heartless cash for cool stuff, but are you willing to trade your time?

Five days a week I trade in my time, eight hours a day, for money. Why? The marketing machine that is commercial capitalism wants you to believe that you trade your time in for money so that you can go out and buy things. Things will give you meaning (false). Things will fulfill you (false.) Things will make you happy (ok SOMEtimes). Then the rush of those things wears off and you have to go out and buy more things to feel that false sense of fulfillment. You have to work harder to get more money to buy more things, but you’re working so hard to buy those things you barely have time to enjoy them so their meaning diminishes even more but the quest for happiness does not and so you do it. You work harder, you take on another job, you trade in more of your lifetime, (Think about that word. Life. Time.) to acquire more things that continue to fail to give your life meaning. You’ve given away the precious time of your life for the acquisition of ultimately meaningless things.

Is that what I want my life to be? Running shoes and book bags? (Dammit if I don’t LOVE a good book bag). Not if I don’t have time to go running or to read the books I’ve put in my bag. I’m incredibly grateful to live in a country and a time that afford me the ability to work for a decent income; one that gives me a roof over my head, a steady stream of food on the table, a car to get around, cat food for the furry babies, and a little extra for a new hat. Good lord I’m practically royalty. Grateful grateful, I’m very grateful. I have just what I need to be comfortable, and then some. The trick is to not spend the “then some” but earmark it for an investment in a meaningful life.

This all seems rather logical but we’re brainwashed in the western world from such an early age to value things. Toys, video games, treats, presents. These are the epicenters of many an American child’s world. I don’t necessarily believe in complete deprivation of material goods to combat this. I truly loved my Teddy Ruxpin doll and Little Mermaid sleeping bag. At some point it’s an important lesson to learn however that these things did not make me who I am. What made me who I am are the friendships I cultivated at the slumber parties where I used my Little Mermaid sleeping bag, and the imagination sparked in my mind by talking to a teddy bear who could talk back. Friendship, imagination, kindness, play. These are the elements of my childhood that made me who I am, despite the fact that Disney and Toys R Us would have me believe it was the things themselves.

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And so no, I do not completely discredit the value of things. I am more likely to write a better story in a beautiful journal with a fancy pen than I am on a boring black and white composition notebook. I will walk with more confidence in an outfit that makes me feel beautiful than an ill-fitting dress I’ve had for 10 years. Just remember it’s the story that matters. It’s the confidence. The things are just tools.

A light bulb goes off as soon as we start planning our trip to Tahiti. This four-year endeavor has been its own form of internal currency trade, but I never realize the weight of that until I begin to think about giving the currency away. Each dollar we put into savings represents a hard-earned mile. So a couple of months ago as I research the cost of a diving expedition in Bora Bora, I feel this overwhelming resistance to lay down the $200 to pay for it because it’s not two hundred dollars I’m giving away. It’s two hundred miles! It takes us a lot of time, sweat, and energy to run two hundred miles and come time to give it away I have to make absolutely certain that it’s worth it. And that’s when it hits me. ALL of my money should be this precious. Why is it so easy to justify a quick afternoon blowing $50 on Zappos when it is so difficult to put down $200 for a once-in-a-lifetime experience we’ve been saving for years to have? Damn, my perspective is OFF. In that moment my paradigm did that shifting thing it sometimes does, and I no longer saw the numbers in my bank account as just numbers. I saw them as units of time; of my life. Very precious.

So what IS the point of money? Can’t we just get rid of it and all live in a utopia where money is obsolete and we help each other do what needs to get done? Then we don’t have to worry about all of this trading of time and money thing and we’ll just get straight to the happiness and meaning part. It’s a nice idea, but it’s not the way our world is set up and frankly I’m not interested in changing the structure of society. What I am interested in is a meaningful life. Stripping away things for only a moment brings quickly into focus what gives my life meaning: My family. My friends. Art. Connection. Travel. Animals. Books. Sunsets. Spirituality. Great stories. Adventures. My husband. My cats. Service. So what do I need money for? I need it for the security it affords me to spend time with my family. To see the rainforest before I die. To be with my community. To make art. To insure that the last 20 years of my life won’t be spent stressed out and panicked about debt but relaxed, and enjoying the people I love and cherish. Just the right amount of money can give me the security to infuse my life with an abundance of meaning. Too much (or too little) can make me mistake the money for meaning itself.

So thank you, whatever inspiration visited my brain and gave me the idea of Running to Tahiti. Not only has it been an incredibly fulfilling journey unto itself, it’s given me perhaps the most important life lesson I’ve encountered. Money can buy you happiness… if you spend it on a hard-earned plane ticket to Tahiti where you’re sure to have a truly meaningful adventure.

But only if you don’t blow it on running shoes first.

Running the Home Stretch

We are almost to Tahiti. We are almost to Tahiti! I find this so hard to believe, as Tahiti has been a bit of a distant dream for these past three years, despite our active plan to get there. The number of miles left to run has remained in the 4 digit area code for what feels like so long.

Until now.

I truly can’t believe it but we collectively have less than 800 miles to run. Less than 800 miles to white sandy beaches, crystalline waters, sea creatures, tropical cocktails, and exotic adventures. Less than 800 miles to our Honeymoon!

That 800 miles will fly by. How do I know this? Because we’ve created a built-in carrot to insure that we keep on track for this final stretch. It’s called the Walt Disney World Marathon on January 11. If Brad and I stick to our training schedule, which we simply must if we have any hope of finishing our first marathon, we will arrive running on the shores of Tahiti the week of December 15. Just in time for Christmas. Happy Christmas to us! We won’t actually make travel plans and get there until sometime in the spring, but this Christmas you can bet our hearts will be in French Polynesia.

The road has been paved with literal blood, sweat, and tears. As well as vomit, panic attacks, dirt, chaffed skin, plantar fasciitis, bursitis, and sunburns. Amidst the injuries and struggles we’ve also had joy, laughs, adventures, and some of the best memories in our 7 years together so far. That’s what running is all about. The incredible beauty in the challenge.

After Tahiti Brad will likely scale back on mileage and FINALLY get rid of the pesky plantar fasciitis that plagues him. I see a bicycle and a swim cap in Brad’s future. Me? I think I’ll stick with running for awhile. It’s become a very important part of me. Running makes me feel strong, sane, and grounded. As long as I’m injury free (knock on wood) I think I’ll always be running somewhere. The question is, where should we run to next?

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800 countdown

Runs Worth the Drive!

I read quite a few running blogs. Foremost because I like to connect with fellow runners/writers. The running community is just that, a community. Perhaps it’s because our sport is a lone one, we like to connect with each other whenever possible. Blogging does that. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t also want to see what other people were doing right. You see I often feel like I’m doing things wrong. I read other blogs that are clearly so incredibly popular and successful and I wonder what I should be doing. I read about bloggers getting complimentary entry into runDisney races (HOW DOES THAT HAPPEN??) and getting sent all kinds of swag for giveaways to increase readership, cross-promote, and network with potential sponsors. I see all of these things and feel there must be some sort of golden goose I can’t find. Last year I would say that all of that worried me. This year I said to hell with it. I didn’t start a blog to worry about all of that. I started a blog to write, to muse, to run, and to keep myself accountable on this adventure to Tahiti. So that’s what I’ve re-focused on in 2014. I stopped worrying about what other people were doing right, what I was doing wrong, and shifted my thinking to doing what I love: running and writing.

And wouldn’t you know it.

Things pick up steam. I’m going to make the moral of this story short so that I can get to to the meat of today’s news, so here it is, listen up. When you stop worrying about the destination and start focusing on the journey, you’ll discover yourself. Yes, the destination IS the journey. Also, life is too short to worry about being successful according to someone else’s standards, so always do what you love and do a good job. That will be a success.

That’s what happens. Really. I stopped worrying about the result of my blog and refocused on the content and it’s now more “successful” than ever. More importantly, it brings me great joy which was always the intention. I Now here’s my news!

Buick is partnering with MapMyRun for a summer campaign called Runs Worth the Drive which encourages runners to take strides outside of their habitual running locales and drive to new terrain, in addition to promoting a healthy and active summer. A few weeks ago Buick contacted me about being a featured blogger in this campaign!

Buick has loaned me a fancy new Verano Turbo this week with which I can drive to as many new running adventures as possible. I then map my route on MapMyRun.com and share my new runs with Buick and the rest of the world via social media. You can follow along at hashtag Driven2Run. It’s a pretty car.

 

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If you’ve been reading since the beginning (thank you), you may recall that the motivation for this blog was to write about the cross-section of running and traveling. Adventure is my middle name and my favorite thing to do on an adventure is to run. When I run in a new land I breathe it in deeper, feel the earth beneath my feet, and take pictures with my eyes. A new landscape gets in to your very pores when you run through it, and that’s how I take places with me. My most vivid memories of the city of Boston come from runs along the Charles or across Boston Common. I can practically smell the Colorado countryside right now thanks to the 3 miles Brad and I ran up a mountain. I love running when I travel. So the fact that Buick targeted Running to Tahiti for this summer campaign is pure serendipity and excitement. I now have not only an excuse, but real motivation to get my running butt out into greater Los Angeles and rediscover this beautiful city with my own two feet.

We get the Buick through next weekend, so next Saturday we’ll really adventure somewhere exciting and a bit remote to prove that the run is indeed worth the drive.

With all of that said I could use your help Angelenos. Where should we run??? Southern California is at our fingertips (or running shoes) and we could really use some suggestions. Please share either in the comments or on social media your favorite running routes in Los Angeles, greater Los Angeles, and Orange and Ventura counties. Use the hashtag #Driven2Run to follow the conversation.

Thanks to Buick and MapMyRun for inviting Running to Tahiti to be a part of this challenge. Brad and I so look forward to discovering SoCal anew!

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MILEstones!!

Today Brad and I hit a major milestone, or, MILEstone, you might say. After this morning’s 3 mile run, we have officially hit the 3,000 mile mark! We’re getting so close to Tahiti!

 

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And man that was a hot run! We worked for it. Only 1,109 miles to go. After this weekend’s half marathon we’ll be in the 1,000’s!

Can you say…

Seinfeld Happy

 

Have a great weekend everyone.

A Major Milestone

I have some very exciting news to announce everyone! Although we haven’t quite stayed on track in terms of the timing of our journey to Tahiti (we originally planned a schedule that would get us there by Spring 2013, which, as you can see, didn’t happen at all), we are definitely still on our way. Very much so. We’ve been “running in the Pacific” a bit longer than expected, but hey, the water is warm and there have been lots of interesting stories to collect along the way. So what is the news?

As of July 2013, Brad and I are halfway to Tahiti!!

Now, that may sound pretty lame considering I just reminded you that we originally hoped to be there 5 months ago, but reserve your judgement and join us in the celebration. There are nuggets of wisdom here.

Goals matter. They drive us. They make us DO things, and not just dream about doing them. I read a really sharp article last year on Cracked.com that has stuck with me for a long time. To sum up, the writer illustrates in several different ways the uselessness of the well-intentioned, and the power of action. Being a good person, caring about the less fortunate, having dreams and aspirations. None of it means squat if you don’t DO anything about it. It’s a simple concept but somehow this article laid down a few metaphors that really hit the message home.

In thinking about the thesis mentioned in the previous paragraph, I can honestly say that I’m proud of us. We rock. Yes we’re only halfway to Tahiti by the date we intended to be ON Tahiti; but that only means one thing to me, WE’RE HALFWAY TO TAHITI!!! We’ve run 2,054 miles between the two of us and saved as much money. We rock.

Nothing goes as planned. If you have an example of a goal or life event that went EXACTLY as planned, by all means, share in the comments. Prove me wrong. In my experience, life always mixes things up a bit. The trick is to not let life’s minor or major detours derail you completely from what is truly important to you. So yes, it has been harder than expected to meet our weekly mileage goals. We could have let that discourage us and we could have turned around and headed back to shore. Nope. When my stint on the AMC took up two years of my life, when Brad’s massive understudying gig at the Geffen made running time impossible, when we got colds or flus or injuries, or when we fell during a race and and sprained our ankle for a month, you know what we did?

Nobody said it would be an easy run. We didn’t give up.

And here’s the final nugget of wisdom I take from this milestone. We’ve come too far to turn back. Once you pass that halfway point, the cost benefit becomes more worthwhile to just keep heading towards your goal instead of turning around and going back. We are stuck out in the middle of the Pacific surrounded by sharks and jellyfish, and it’s literally going to hurt just as much to MAKE it to our destination as it would to give up and go home, which makes the choice pretty clear. That’s an exciting feeling, and it motivates me to keep going until we get there. Do or die. I can’t help but feel that all goals, even ones that don’t involve running to a tropical island, have a similar halfway point. I think it’s just harder to determine what that point is. Mileage between point A and point B provides tangible and quantifiable benchmarks for progress. The halfway mark to becoming a successful artist, or starting your own business, or writing a novel, or becoming an astronaut, or ANY dream, may be harder to pinpoint, but I believe it’s there. I believe we reach a point in all of our endeavors where it’s easier to finish than it is to give up. This running goal, Running to Tahiti, has taught me to believe in that; to believe that by putting one foot in front of the other, we first begin, then we get a 1/3 of the way out, then we’re halfway there, then we see the goal in sight, then we reach for it it, and touch it, and smell it, and love it, and dance with it, and sing about it, and we HAVE it. We did it.

We can’t see the shore yet, but from this moment on, we know we are closer to Tahiti than we are to Los Angeles. We’ll be there soon, and we’ll send you a postcard.

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Tahiti

 

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in complete awe of the massive surf

we can almost see it!