My book is available for pre-order: Order it today!⁠

A Note to the Runners by Joshua Lynott.
A marathon. An Anthology. (

Ultramarathon runner,
author,
poet,
and photographer.

My book is available for pre-order: Order it today!⁠

A Note to the Runners by Joshua Lynott.
A marathon. An Anthology. (

Ultramarathon runner,
author,
poet,
and photographer.

My book is available for pre-order: Order it today!⁠

A Note to the Runners by Joshua Lynott.
A marathon. An Anthology. (

Ultramarathon runner,
author,
poet,
and photographer.

My book is available for pre-order: Order it today!

A Note to the Runners by Joshua Lynott.
A marathon. An Anthology.
(( A Marathon Anthology ))

Ultramarathon runner,
author,
poet,
and photographer.
Joshua Lynott is a poet and athlete from Melbourne, Australia. In 2018, he released his first book, Why Don't You? Thoughts Worth Thinking. His latest body of work brilliantly explores the intersection of his two great passions, running and poetry.
A Note to the Runners is Joshua's first poetry book, a collection of poems exploring the nuances of loss, identity, triumph, commitment, friendship, and mindset only a runner truly understands.
42.2 poems.
Pre-orders will be posted in October and also come with a personalised note.

Drop your email today to be the first to pre-order "A Note to the Runners" by Joshua Lynott.

https://www.anotetotherunners.com/

42.2 poems.

Launching October 4th, 2024.

Watch this episode on Youtube: https://youtu.be/5kFru7aIzrE

Recorded: Sunday 16th, August

Location: Melbourne, Australia

Sponsor: Josh Lynott - Mentorship program and what a sesh running.

A Note To The Runners: ⁠Get my book here.⁠

Register for my mentorship! ⁠⁠Fill it out the form here.⁠

⁠JOIN MY RETREAT!⁠

Poem: Pressed flowers.

Put me at a traffic light,

make me wait

for minutes on end.

Lights flashing, heart racing.

I need to slow down,

we all do.

Weeks stacked against each other.

So I pressed flowers

between the days,

but instead they were,

memories and smiles.

The hours,

we wished to pass quicker,

are the ones

I want to press.

It made sense to me,

a weekly doing,

built confidence

and watered the roots.

It brushed the dust of the leaves,

and helped us

forget about the vortex

we volunteer ourselves for.

Journal prompt: What talent do you want to stack on top of your current skillset?

Recorded: Monday 12th of August, 2024

Location: Melbourne, Australia

Sponsor: Josh Lynott - Mentorship program and what a sesh running.

A Note To The Runners: ⁠Get my book here.⁠

Register for my mentorship! ⁠⁠Fill it out the form here.⁠

⁠JOIN MY RETREAT!

Poem:

I couldn't be sure what my greatest expression was.

Running or poetry? Reducing a decade of work,

into a singular expression,

felt unfair.

Narrowing a light,

doesn't make the object shine brighter.

It doesn't change the object,

nor does it change the feeling towards it.

Narrowing gives us focus,

and sometimes clarity,

and walls to play between.

Parameters build side walls,

and remove ceilings.

I let running and poetry act as parameters,

and in turn,

they removed the ceiling of expression.

To put a ceiling on expression,

would destroy,

numb,

and reduce,

all that we were put here to do.

Express.

Express something so true,

that the side walls fall away,

no longer able to hold the power,

the fury,

the energy,

of something that needs to be said,

something,

that must be felt.

Journal prompt: Who do you need in your team to help you maintain sustainability within your physical and creative practices?

⁠

Recorded: Tuesday 6th of August, 2024

Location: Melbourne, Australia

Sponsor: Josh Lynott - Mentorship program and what a sesh running.

A Note To The Runners: ⁠Get my book here.⁠

Register for my mentorship! ⁠⁠Fill it out the form here.⁠

⁠JOIN MY RETREAT!

Poem:

Monday morning pumpernickel,

forest fire lingers in thread of my sweater,

Mary Oliver sits by the windowsill

and the sheep,

wander in, wander out.

The pumpernickel flavours Monday,

so I won't forget it.

So I won't leave the forest,

wondering,

what life tasted like.

Every part of my life,

can be remembered by mouthfuls

and bites into the unknown,

this week

I'll remember pumpernickel.

Recorded: Saturday 27th of June, 2024

Location: Melbourne, Australia

Sponsor: Josh Lynott - Mentorship program and what a sesh running.

A Note To The Runners: ⁠Get my book here.⁠

Register for my mentorship! ⁠⁠Fill it out the form here.⁠

⁠JOIN MY RETREAT!⁠

Poem:

Saturday mornings

These worlds don't belong together,

pancakes and poetry

friends and strangers.

coffee and pineapple

Basqiuat and my dried protea.

Of course they don't,

no-one ever invited them to spend time together.

From my table,

I watch these worlds collide

human as atoms,

forming new elements,

clusters of friendships,

galaxies of ideas,

intertwining to be something,

I'm sure never existed.

In an hour they will return,

but not as strangers,

not as coffee drinkers,

they will return together,

they will sit together like my Basqiuat book and protea,

knowing nothing lives in isolation,

your world or mine,

pineapple or pancakes,

it all exists together,

if you let it.

Recorded: Sunday 21st July, 2024

Location: Melbourne, Australia

Sponsor: Josh Lynott - Mentorship program and what a sesh running.

A Note To The Runners: ⁠Get my book here.⁠

Register for my mentorship! ⁠⁠Fill it out the form here.⁠

⁠JOIN MY RETREAT!⁠

Incense:

I could sit there for hours,

mesmerised by this dancing fume.

this way and that,

filling my room,

calming my lungs.

Pressed into a wrench,

held by a gifted ceramic,

hiding in the rubble of brick,

or the handle of a banana.

How do you know where to go?

Swirling and streamlining,

parading and tip-toeing

conversing and whispering.

I want to move,

the way you do.

I stared at you,

my friends stared at you,

we laughed at the joy shared,

of staring at you.

Sometimes you visit me from india,

a place i wish to go,

other times,

I know you're only down the road.

I want to burn gently,

brightly feels like a waste of time.

I want to burn slowly,

like the incense that makes my home,

home.