Dear Wounded OCR Warrior…

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dear wounded ocr warrior

It’s been too long since I saw you last, OCR warrior. I remember you running, climbing, lifting logs and dragging stones, all with the grin of a savage, wild spirit. But we’ve missed you from the field and the fray.

Pond Jump True Mudd

Come home, OCR warrior.

You were an artist, a mad magician, creating potions of torture and transfiguring them into elixirs of delight. But the veil dropped, the wizard revealed. Injury found you only a man: vulnerable, fragile, born with the flesh of a man, but the ambition of a titan. Is our humanity, our frailty, such a sin that you should hide away when you fall?


Come home, OCR warrior.

I remember the fire in your eyes, the fury and the elation, with adrenaline flowing like molten passion through your veins. Nothing could take you from the grit and the glory, the mud and the road. You ran with us, you bled with us, you strove, aspired, inspired, but now have all but expired. Are you so ashamed to have fallen?


Come home, OCR warrior.

Have you forgotten, mud brother, grit sister, the bond which binds us? Have you forgotten that our sport, our philosophy, our ethos has overthrown the gods of untouchable champions? There are no tyrants, no exclusive clubs or arenas. We are all diamonds in the rough, polished by one another in the throes of the race. So soon have you surrendered the fight when you have so much more to give…and Lord knows there is so much more you can take.

Come home, OCR warrior.

Your wounds, your failures, setbacks, scars, and mistakes? They can either become the chevrons of experience which inform the future, or untreated wounds which haunt the present. We need you and your experience. We need your story. We need to watch you rise, to fight, to refuse the gravity of doubt and shame which pushes us to our knees. For we are OCR warriors, if we can carry logs and sandbags up mountains and through swamps, what more is our insecurity than simply another obstacle to conquer?


Come home, OCR warrior.

Mud brother, grit sister, you are beautiful and glorious as you are, because you are not defined by your mistakes or your body, but your resilience in striving for the best version of your self. Do not hide from us. I understand that you have worked so hard and now you must begin again. But cities rise and fall, forests burn, and dreams wisp away, but if we allow them, they return and regrow stronger and more resilient than ever.We are OCR, we reside on the mountain, and each of us–from the summit to the foothills, reach out to you, and together we will scale this wall, we will take this mountain.

So stop hiding, OCR warrior, we’ve been waiting. Your journey lies before you, one single, patient step at a time.

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