Before the Race

Heading into this race, I luckily had some experience from my first 50-miler and running part of the course during last year’s 50K race. I ultimately chose this event since I knew it was pretty competitive and offered similar terrain to the 100-mile race I plan to run in April 2024.

The training block started off rocky, with me having to take off a couple of weeks due to gout in my left big toe. Luckily, I could maintain some fitness during this time through biking, but the shortened length of time I had to prepare made me a bit concerned.

Once I returned to regular training, my weeks mainly consisted of a tempo run, a long run, and easy runs. Periodically, I would incorporate 3 x 30-second strides at the end of a run to work on turnover.

My longest run in preparation for the race was 27 miles, while my peak week consisted of two 20-mile runs back to back on Saturday and Sunday. I’ve found that rather than running 40 miles in one go. I could run 20 miles back-to-back days and get similar ‘fatigue training’ while avoiding the long recovery that results from one very long run.

Most of my training was at Umstead State Park, which had comparable terrain to the race. I also had a chance, during a trip to Montana in August, to get in a couple of challenging mountain runs near where I was staying in Columbia Falls.

Totals from the training block (July 14 to Oct 21):

Time strength training/cross-training: 46 hours

Time running: 104 hours

Distance: 740 miles

Race Recap

The race kicked off at 7 a.m., right before sunrise. It was 40F and windy, and I had trouble determining what to wear, but ultimately decided on a long sleeve, shorts, and carried a windbreaker in my waistbelt.

The first 3 miles covered a ~800ft ascent, and I focused on staying comfortable. After reaching the top of the first mountain, there was a long descent till around mile 8. It was a bit confusing starting with the 50k runners since I had no clue what place I was in or who I was running the 50 miles with, so I ended up sticking primarily solo from the beginning.

For the first hour, I felt super fresh and comfortable. I was in a good rhythm leading into the Whipple Dam aid station at mile 11. Hannah, my mother and father-in-law, Kyle, and Katelyn all came out, which kept my morale high, leading to a challenging part of the race.

From 11 to 20, the terrain mainly consisted of rolling hills, and I still focused on staying as comfortable as possible. About 3 hours into the race, I reached the Alan Seegar Park aid station set at the base of Broad Mountain. Ahead was a 3-mile segment with about 1300ft of climbing.

A brief note on fueling: My overall strategy was to take 125 calories every 20-30 minutes. I had salt pills (sodium, potassium, magnesium, etc.) that I took every hour, and water was on a ‘by feel’ basis. Even if my handheld bottle wasn’t empty, I filled up at every station. After hour 3, I took a caffeinated gel every hour (~50mg).

I focused on just keeping my momentum up the Broad Mountain ascent and managed to pass several runners near the top. After reaching the next aid station, the race carried along the ridge. The views were beautiful along this section, but the exposed trail made the conditions frigid, and I looked forward to the descent into warmer air.

From miles 25 to 32, my legs quickly went from feeling fresh to fatigued on the descent. I noticed my pace slowing, and I tried my best to let gravity carry me down the mountain. I adjusted my stride to shorter, quicker steps to help reduce some of the impact.

From 33 to 37, I began hitting a mental low point. My legs were tired, and to make matters worse, my stomach was not letting me take in any more calories. I tried several times over the following miles but felt like I would be sick each time. One of the runners I passed on the Broad Mountain ascent passed me around this point. I tried sticking with him but couldn’t hang on.

I knew Hannah and her parents would be at Colyer Lake aid station (around mile 41), and that’s all I focused on getting to. Finally reaching the station, I hadn’t been able to take in calories for over an hour, but it was a relief to see family. I scanned the aid station table, looking for anything I could stomach, and remembered ginger ale working well on my first 50-mile race. I looked at the sodas, but there wasn’t any ginger ale, so I grabbed a cup of Coca-Cola instead before heading out for the final 10 miles.

I was in survival mode at this point. I knew I had around 6 miles to the next station, followed by a 3-mile descent to the finish. Breaking up the race into more manageable chunks helped me mentally. The caffeine kicked in, and my mood and energy levels improved. All the while, I pushed to maintain momentum on the final ascent to the aid station.

Finally, I reached the Bear Meadows station, and all that was left was a long descent. Since the last aid station, I only had water, so in a last-ditch effort to take in fuel, I decided to fill my entire handheld bottle with Coca-Cola. Shortly after leaving the station, my bottle became a soda cannon from all the build-up of carbonation.

Covered in sweat and cola, I descended as quickly as possible, again taking smaller, quicker strides. I was occasionally looking back for fear of a fast-approaching runner. My windbreaker came loose from my waistbelt pocket, which made a footstep-like sound, making me think there was a nearby runner. I ran a little scared, but it did help me quicken my pace.

I began quickly ticking off the miles, and below, I soon could see the valley where the finish was located. With the remainder of my energy, I ran as quickly as possible for the last half mile to the finish.

I placed 5th overall with a time of 7 hours and 35 minutes. This was slower than my goal of 7:10, but I am still thrilled with how the race turned out.

What worked well:

• Ascending - I felt strong on the ascents, and these sections of the race were where I gained the most ground.

• Pacing - Looking at the pace chart (below), I was able to keep a fairly consistent pace, which I attribute to keeping it conservative at the beginning of the race.

  • Each 10 mile split: (1:24:23, 1:24:49, 1:35:08, 1:35:00, 1:35:59)

  • I got slower after mile 20, but I kept it consistent from then on! It was a pretty interesting finding, especially since my biggest highs and lows were from 30 to the finish.

• Coca-Cola - this was a big surprise. I usually don’t drink soda, but the mix of caffeine and sugar helped both settle my stomach and get some calories in for the remainder of the race.

What didn’t:

• Descending - this is an area in which I have a lot of room for improvement. I’ll have to think through how to simulate long mountain descents around where I live (maybe hill repeats?)

• Gel gut - I believe I may have taken in too many calories too quickly in the early stages of the race. This led to a rough second half.

My watch data from the race:

The Tussey MountainBack 50-mile course:

What’s Next?

My next big race is the Umstead 100, my first-ever 100-mile race. It’s both scary and exciting, and in the next couple of months, I’ll begin kick-off training for it.

The neat thing about this wild sport is that there is so much to learn. With this being my fourth ultra, I still feel like I’m skimming the surface of the knowledge that comes with running these races. All in all, it’s about having fun, being out on the trails, and feeling alive.

Thanks for reading! 🙂

Turning 31 is pretty unremarkable when compared to the milestones of, say, 21 or 30, but with each passing birthday, each year has a theme unlike the last.

Thirty years is a lot of time, and it’s a broad enough range to see numerous trends, both advancements and declines. For me, it’s been noticing the intricacies of the seasons, the nuances of each decade, and the mind-boggling rise of technology from floppy disks to ChatGPT. Time not only builds a perspective but also widens the reference point.

The thirties have also felt like an ambiguous stage in life where you’re not considered old or young, and society slaps you with the label of adult and says, “Alright, it’s time to get your act together.”

But what does it actually mean to be an adult? Is it a level of responsibility? Buying a house? Back pain? Okay, yes, by law, in most of the US, you’re an adult at 18, but does anyone truly feel like an adult at that age? I certainly did not.

Even with society drawing such explicit lines for this term, I feel that being an adult is more of a mindset, an intentional shift in how a person navigates the world. It’s an awareness that you’re solely responsible for the sequence of choices that lead one to the next. ‘Adulting’ is a lifelong progression of learning, failing, and figuring out the journey ahead.

Every birthday, I review my past year and the activities, moments, and choices I made. Instead of taking a recap approach with this article, I’m sharing areas that I struggle with and continue to work on. All of which are centered around decision-making and making better choices.

Inactivity is the Villain, and Perfection is the Henchman

If you’ve been following me for a while, you know that I shared in the past about perfectionism and its double-edged effect on creativity. It’s been a gradual process of re-wiring my brain, which for so long has been mired by the process of seeking perfection and getting only disappointment. Anne Lamott, in her book Bird by Bird, points out that getting anything down on paper, no matter how crappy is the first step:

“For me and most of the other writers I know, writing is not rapturous. In fact, the only way I can get anything written at all is to write really, really shitty first drafts. The first draft is the child’s draft, where you let it all pour out and then let it romp all over the place, knowing that no one is going to see it and that you can shape it later. You just let this childlike part of you channel whatever voices and visions come through and onto the page.”

When it comes down to working on a project, an art piece, a song, or a story, any progress is good progress. And it’s not that I think striving for perfection is bad, but when it begins to interfere with the flow of ideas, then it becomes an issue. It takes a diligent eye to know when the perfectionist side is starting to take over. As David Foster Wallace, in an interview, describes this balance, “If your fidelity to perfectionism is too high, you never do anything.”

Fear’s Smoke and Mirrors

Whenever there’s a hard or intimidating task, the mind has a tendency to raise its warning flags and declare, “Oh no! This is not good! Avoid! Avoid!”

But how much potential is left untapped if difficult things are always avoided?

During my first marathon, I was moments away from dropping out of the race. Reaching halfway, I stopped and hid in a port-o-potty dealing with GI issues, fatigued legs, and a head filled with frustration. I took off my race bib and decided I was done.

Yet, with the demoralizing feeling of failure, there was a little thought that arose in my head, and it slowly became more prevalent. You can finish this.

I didn’t want to listen to this thought, but the more time passed, the thought lingered and grew in my mind until it finally convinced me to at least give it a try. After ten or so minutes, I stepped out of the port-o-potty, clipped my bib back on, and returned to the course, trudging through the last half of the race, slowly taking it mile by mile. It was extremely painful, and there were still more points where I considered dropping out again, but I kept telling myself, I can get this done.

After what felt like a lifetime, I crossed the finish in disbelief.

Despite the slow result, this race reminded me how much the mind affects my decisions and surroundings. I didn’t think I could ever finish a marathon, but after slowly checking off the miles, I actually did it.

The mind can obscure potential with a facade of uncertainty, worry, and fear. But just as the mind can be powerful in avoiding tough things, it can be equally persistent in pursuing them.

One of my favorite ultrarunners, Courtney Dauwalter, describes the mental journey of pushing your potential as the pain cave.

“[Being in the pain cave is] not always going to feel great, but that’s going to make us better. We’re going to get better from visiting it.”

Okay… Okay… I know this mainly pertains to running, but this has applications in many other fields too. Making a film, writing a book, building a shed, or having a difficult discussion the list goes on...

“When it feels scary or sounds too hard, that’s the thing we should probably try to do.” – Courtney Dauwalter

Serenity Now!

The older I get, the more I realize the importance of the little moments, the quiet times where I am fully present.

Often, much of my time is consumed with rushing to the next thing, worrying about this or that, my mind fixated on the future. Even while writing this, I get distracted thinking that I need to send an email, do this errand, or finish the myriad of other tasks that I need to get done. Worse, this future fixation has been during times with family, and friends, robbing myself of the joy of being present, moments I will never get back.

Mr. Rogers's Emmy acceptance speech is a powerful reminder of just taking a moment to be present and have appreciation. While on stage, he asks the audience to pause, stop, and take a moment to appreciate the present moment and the people that got them here:

“Would you just take, along with me, 10 seconds to think of the people who have helped you become who you are, those who cared about you and wanted what was best for you in life.”

Some of the most special moments in life occur during peaceful moments—times when we are completely focused and present and when we are surrounded by those we hold dear. I try to constantly remind myself that not only is my time limited but that the present holds a special value.

Summing up:

Being an adult is a lot like being lost in the woods with only the torn remains of a map. It’s up to you to figure things out, and you’ll never have all the answers, but each step gets you closer to discovering what is best for you.

Like I said, 31 is nothing special, but it’s another year and another chance to pave the way to smarter and more intentional choices. Focusing on action over perfection, seeking the hard and scary steps, and embracing stillness are all areas that I hope to continue to get better at. What are some areas for you? We can all learn, especially from each other. Let’s share what pushes us forward and makes us better collectively.

I nervously tapped on my armrest as we landed at the Dallas Airport. What was to be a chill 4-hour layover became a stressful race against the clock due to a series of delays. The plane door opened, and I snatched our bags from the overhead compartment, rushing through the airport, dodging people, and dashing up and down escalators. Hannah and I reached the gate 5 minutes past boarding, but seeing that there were still people at the gate, I felt relief. We sat down to catch our breath, while over the intercom, a flight attendant announced that our flight had been pushed to the following day.

It was 11 p.m., and we had seven hours to wait before boarding our next flight. Frustrated, I felt like slinging my bag across the terminal like an Olympic hammer throw. Nothing was going to plan, and it felt like our luck was only worsening. We searched for the comfiest chairs for our short-term beds and found two bright red faux leather seats in a quiet corner of the terminal. Despite the cushions’ permanent impression of a butt, they beat the stiff plastic row chairs. I sat down and tried to find a comfy position but slid right off the seat like it was made of Crisco. The material of my pants and the faux leather made it so that the chair became a bonafide slip-n-slide.

After several more attempts, I gave up on the slick red seat. Irritated and tired, I removed my jacket and positioned my bag to create a makeshift bed on the floor. Sleep became my only focus and despite the thought of the airport floor germs, I laid down and closed my eyes. I imagined being in bed at home; I imagined lounging on the couch with a bowl of popcorn, watching Seinfeld re-runs. Yet, these fantasies were quickly blotted out by the various chimes, notifications, and announcements that echoed through the terminal, each bringing me back to face my present situation.

I sat up and looked out the windows at the dark sky and star-like runway lights. I had the feeling of being in a fishbowl. Outside was a world where time carried on normally, and I was stuck inside, a reality where time didn’t budge and the scenery never changed. I glanced at my watch, hoping for good news. Only 60 minutes had passed.

I looked over at Hannah, who managed to curl up on the other seat. From her look, I could tell she was equally as miserable. I decided to fetch us some food and drinks, thinking that a walk would get my mind off waiting. It was eerie to be in such a big space with no one around—the only signs of life were the occasional custodian. It was then I thought about a quote by Jorge Luis Borges, having recently read some of his work:

“A writer—and, I believe, generally all persons—must think that whatever happens to him or her is a resource. All things have been given to us for a purpose, and an artist must feel this more intensely. All that happens to us, including our humiliations, our misfortunes, our embarrassments, all is given to us as raw material, as clay, so that we may shape our art.”​

— Jorge Luis Borges, from Twenty-Four Conversations with Borges: Interviews by Roberto Alifano 1981-1983

Born in Argentina in 1899, Borges dealt with many good and bad circumstances, extracting the essence of each experience and using them as resources for his literary creations. Later in life, he became blind due to a congenital condition, but that did little to inhibit his inventiveness. He later expressed his condition, “Blindness has not been for me total misfortune; it should not be seen in a pathetic way. It should be seen as a way of life: one of the styles of living”.

Borges explored the seemingly mundane - extracting significance from the tiniest of places. In his story, ‘The Aleph,’ he describes a dark dinghy basement where there lies an iridescent sphere containing the entirety of the universe, all from a single point. He challenges the limitations of language with his fantastical stories, stretching your imagination and leaving you with a childlike sense of wonder.

Something flipped in my brain and soon, my mind raced with ideas. At the time, I was taking a brief break from book writing and was working on a short story about a man stuck on a subway train. In the story, the man notices time stretch and shift in strange ways. I thought about him and the parallels to my current scenario, the feelings of uncertainty and stress, and how time can be utterly disorienting.

Eventually, I found an open 7-Eleven and bought some snacks, drinks, and a coffee. I returned eager to begin recording my thoughts. It was 2 a.m., but I had newfound energy from the mix of caffeine and ideas. Time began to move faster, and before I knew it, I saw the deep red streak of light on the horizon.

The time that I never thought would come had arrived. We packed our things and made our way to the gate, relieved that this traveling fiasco was ending. At least, that’s what I thought…

It turns out our airline booked us on a different flight, and we had to wait an additional hour before boarding our last plane. I once again had the urge to chuck my bag across the terminal, but the exhaustion and lack of sleep turned my emotions into an incomprehensible mush.

The trip from Montana to North Carolina was pulled and stretched to a hellish length, but after 25 hours, we finally made it home.

—

This traveling fiasco was an important lesson for me. Thanks to Borges, I recognized that there’s power in observing the present and using it as a resource. By extracting the feelings, things, and surrounding senses, I could gather inspiration for my creative work. I’m certain there will be plenty more traveling headaches to come, but it’s reassuring to know that even during the worst of times, inspiration can still be found.

"Books are uniquely portable magic. They hold the power to ignite imagination, reveal hidden truths, shatter biases, and unlock the door to empathy, offering a profound understanding of the human experience." - Carl Sagan

This year I made a goal to read 50 books. Almost a book a week. So far, it has been challenging but equally rewarding, and halfway through 2023, I am slightly ahead of my goal. After each book, I tend to scour online for my next pick, and during a recent search, I stumbled upon an article by Ann Morgan sharing a literary challenge that got my attention. She aimed to read a book from every country—a whopping 196 books.

I thought back to some of the books I’ve enjoyed from foreign authors. From Ousman Umar’s treacherous journey from Ghana to Europe or the kaleidoscope-like worlds that Murakami creates in Japanese towns. Whether fiction or non-fiction, each book was a window into another life, a look at the intricacies of human existence from a different walk of life.

And that desire to gain perspective and better understand our vast world serves as the impetus for wanting to pursue this challenge. So with no set timeline, I am building a long checklist of books from every country, fiction and non-fiction. I plan to share my list and updates on my progress periodically, but if you are curious about what I’m currently reading, I regularly track my books and progress on Goodreads.

My first pick from Colombia is One Hundred Years of Solitude by Gabriel García Márquez.

Is this something you’d like to also partake in? Do you have any recommendations? If so, I’d love to hear from you!

Upon arriving, I found myself gathering with other bleary-eyed runners for check-in. It was quiet, but I could sense the anticipation— electric energy lingered in the damp air. Despite the early hour and sour weather, I was incredibly grateful to have Hannah, my Mom, Dad, and sister all there to cheer me on. With my shoes tied, headlamp on, and pack ready, I huddled with the other racers at the start. The bright glowing red clock hit 6 am, and we were off.

The rain continued as we entered the woods, our headlamps straining to pierce the all-consuming darkness. My senses heightened, adrenaline pumping as my legs warmed up and my breath quickened. I splashed through streams and dodged trees. The only sounds were the pounding of my footsteps and the white noise of rain. Nocturnal creatures watched from the black void, their eyes glinting like polished gems as I passed.

By the hour mark, the rain had receded, and the sky began to lighten, casting a deep gray hue over the woodlands. I caught up to a group of runners and stayed with them briefly before pushing on. Despite feeling fresh and energetic, I fought back the urge to launch into an aggressive tempo, knowing that hours of running still lay ahead. I focused on staying relaxed and calm, allowing myself to sink into the trail’s rhythm.

I entered the first aid station around mile 12, where Hannah and my family helped me stock up on water, gels, and gear. Then, I continued to follow the white circle blazes that marked the Mountains to Sea Trail (MST). The course consisted of two out-and-back sections, with the center portion serving as the start, midpoint, and finish. The terrain of the race was challenging, with undulating hills and low areas that had formed into muddy pits. I did my best to keep my shoes dry, but with the addition of crossing flooded creeks, it was a losing battle. 

Mile 17 marked the first turnaround, which gave me a chance to see how ahead the leaders were. I was in third place with about a 20-minute gap behind first and second. This discovery was a slap in the face, but I was reminded that a lot could change throughout an ultra race. A successful ultra-marathon involves carefully balancing pace, hydration, electrolytes, and calories. And although mistakes can be made, they aren’t without time-extending consequences. 

I passed over the marathon distance and was settling into a good rhythm, with my mood and energy levels still high. I rounded a portion of the trail that overlooked Falls Lake and noticed a runner ahead. As I got closer, I realized they were one of the two leaders. I eagerly picked up my pace and passed, giving some words of encouragement, he gave a slight nod, and I caught a glance of his fatigue-etched expression.

Soon, I was back at the starting line and about to begin the second out-and-back portion. Hannah and my family helped me refuel, restock, and cheered me on, giving me a much-needed mental boost. I was told the gap from the lone leader was now 15 minutes as I set off.

My watch buzzed, indicating another mile split. I had just passed mile 33, and I came head-on with the fact that I was now running farther than I ever had before. In unknown territory, doubt crept into my headspace, tossing uncertainty amongst the other fatigue signals. I’ve dealt with this sneaky devil before and immediately took to defensive measures—obsessive optimism. I slapped a smile on my face and took a quick look around at my surroundings. The day was becoming more beautiful by the minute, and the sun peered through the thinning clouds, pouring golden light over the budding trees. ‘Wow, I feel great. What a beautiful day.’ became my mantra, functioning as a mental restart cycle. My words persuaded my brain, and in turn, my legs listened.

I entered familiar trails that carried years of fond memories, from training in high school to re-discovering my love for running and trekking with friends. The burning fatigue came in waves, and I reached the final turnaround about 8 minutes behind the leader. My head had two main motivations: getting to the finish and catching first. The last aid station was at mile 45, and a large group of my family and friends surprised me with signs and cheering. Feeling weighed down by the accumulating fatigue, this sight sent a jolt of energy through my bones.

I was in survival mode, trying my best to carry momentum over the hills and remaining mud pits. I kept my head to the horizon, hoping to catch a glimpse of the leader. I was reaching the final miles of the race, and all I imagined was passing through the finish line and resting. The last section of the race contained a half-mile stretch of road, followed by the final bit of trail. As I got onto the asphalt, I caught a glimpse of the leader ahead. Roughly 400 meters ahead, he was painfully close but too far for me to reach before the finish. Regardless, I moved my legs as fast as possible, draining the last ounces of my energy reserves. Striding through the finish, I completed the 52.5-mile race (the course was long) in 8 hours, 30 minutes, and 32 seconds, with only a minute behind the leader. We both broke the previous course record by over 30 minutes.

I felt a rush of joy completing my first 50-mile race and having family and friends there to celebrate. I was happy with how I paced the race and kept up with fueling. It felt bittersweet knowing how close I was to the leader, but as time passed, I replaced that feeling with gratitude. I’m thankful to be able to do this crazy event and complete it. That being said, this race was a massive team effort, and I wouldn’t have had such a successful race if it weren’t for Hannah, my Mom and Dad, Ashley, Preston, Justin, and Fadi. Everything from the cheering to helping me stock up on fuel, I am so grateful for the support.

So what’s next?

I have no clue, but one thing is for sure, I still love running out in nature. From feeling the sharp morning air to the warming sunrise, the temperamental flurries, and the rushing rain. Cruising trails with friends or soaking in the serene stillness of the woods. It’s all wonderful, and it’s all centered around one thing:

Loving the process.

After all, having run 50 miles, I was right back where I began.

For those who celebrated Thanksgiving last week, I hope you had a wonderful time filled with friends, family, and food.

This week I am bringing back the old Mishmash format, where I share some fascinating things I’ve found on the web.

Let’s jump in!

Interesting links:

1. 🗺️ Community-built map of Indigenous territories, treaties, and languages

2. 🍎 Ranking of apple types*

3. 🕵️ FBI Agent who took down the Silk Road (Interview)

4. 🏙️ The creation of the Empire State Building

5. ✉️ Helen Keller’s letter for Mark Twain’s 70th Birthday

   1. NYT Write up the Mr. Twain’s party

6. 🎨 Tribute to Charles Shultz

7. 📚 The Need to Read

8. 📦 Where Does all the Cardboard Come from?

*Satire piece by Brian Frange

Have a great rest of the week!

-Ryan

The Tussey MountainBack race is at a location near and dear to my heart, Rothrock State Forest. Residing on the outskirts of Penn State, I would often come here to hike, bike, or run in college.

We got into the town of State College Friday afternoon after a hectic day of fighting traffic on I-95. However, as a consolation prize, Pennsylvania was in peak leaf-peeping season and provided a getaway from NC’s lingering summer.

The race was on Sunday, and I had a full day to dust off the travel fatigue and take a stroll down memory lane on the PSU campus.

As Sunday rolled around, I set two main goals for this race:

1. Run my own race

2. Have fun

Miles 0 to 3 — Up, up, up

I couldn’t have asked for a better morning for race day. It was overcast, cool weather, and almost no wind.

At 9 am, the race director kicked off the start of the 31.1 miles, and I immediately got to the front with another runner to make the lead pack.

The first three miles ascend the mountain’s gravel backroads. A mile in, the runner next to me began pushing forward. I knew it would be a poor decision to push the pace this early, so I let a gap form. Cresting the mountain around mile 3, the first aid station arrived at the bend.

Miles 4 to 11 — Down, down, down

After passing over the ridge, I began the long and steady descent to Whipple Dam. I could still see the lead runner ahead of me, but even with some faster miles, he was still building a gap. I checked behind to see if there were any runners nearby. No one was in view. I faced the fact that I would largely be in no man’s land during the race.

The miles of downhill took a toll on the quads, but passing the 11th-mile marker, I still had plenty left in the tank. Getting closer to halfway.

Miles 12 to 19 — Maintain

Around mile 12, the hills started creeping back into the picture, which was a rude awakening after the past 90 minutes of descending. Fatigue was building, but at an amount I expected—no warning signs. I focused on keeping my momentum going and staying on top of nutrition.

Miles 20 to 25 — The low point

Around mile 20, the trail took a sharp left, and ahead, I saw the beginning of the switchbacks leading up to the next mountain. Skimming the elevation profile of the race beforehand, I knew this climbing was waiting for me, and I was prepared to put up a fight.

A mile into the climb, the quads were burning. All I wanted to do was stop and lay down in the leaves. I began my pain-management tactic of breaking down the race into bite-size chunks.

“Make it to that massive oak tree.”

“Check.”

“Make it to the hairpin turn.”

“Check.”

“Hold this pace for 2 minutes.”

“Check.”

“Hold this pace for 100 steps.”

“Check.”

I tried to ignore that I still had around 10 miles left to race and was focusing on the little efforts. This was something I learned from my first ultra.

As I got closer to the top of the mountain, I passed several outlooks. I smiled since it reminded me of my second goal at one of my lowest points. Have fun. I smiled, yelled out, “It’s a beautiful day!” and continued trudging up the mountain.

At mile 25, I finally reached the top of the mountain and was so relieved. However, things weren’t over yet.

Miles 26 to 31.1 — Finishing it off

My body was fatigued, and my mind was exhausted, but at least I had a short reprieve along the ridge leading to the last mountain. Only 5 miles and one last climb separated me from the finish.

I muscled through the last several hundred feet of climbing and made it to the top of the last mountain before the final descent.

My hamstrings and quads were tightening up during the final descent, so I adjusted to a short quicker cadence. I thought back almost four hours earlier when I was climbing the mountain I was now descending. I was so happy to be almost done.

Making it to the bottom of the mountain, the last stretch was to the Tussey Mountain Ski Lodge. Ahead, I could see the banner of the starting line and the final turn. I mustered up all I had left in my legs and ran through the finish corral.

I completed the race with a time of 4:12:06 in 2nd place.

(Link to Strava)

I am so grateful to have family and friends there for support. A huge thank you to Hannah, Mr. & Mrs. Riehl, Kate, and Kyle!

It feels incredible to have finished my second ultra-marathon, and now, after a couple of weeks post-race, I’m excited to look ahead to the next challenge — the MST 50 Miler in March 2023!

Nitty-gritty details:

Race and training details for the running nerds 🤓

Fueling

I aimed to take in calories every 30 minutes and around 250-300 calories per hour.

For fuel, I alternated between Spring Awesome Sauce packets and Maurten Gels. For fluids, I stuck to one 500 ml bottle having plain water and another 500 ml containing tailwind electrolyte powder (~200 cal.)

I didn’t take any caffeine during the race.

I had no GI issues or bonking, so I would say the fueling strategy was a success!

Training

In the lead-up to the race, I was still worried about my over-use injury from earlier this year, so my training revolved around mostly easy runs with two key workout sessions each week. I avoided two-a-days since I wanted to give my legs more time to recover between runs.

Looking back, I wish I had focused more on ascending strength because this was the area I suffered most from in the race. Since I don’t live near mountains, I still need to find a local alternative for this training.

Strength Training

Out of all the new updates to my training routine, strength and conditioning made the biggest difference. I felt stronger during uptempo workouts, and it helped me avoid any injuries as I started ramping my mileage up.

After every run, I would do a strength routine that focused mainly on the glute and IT band regions. This consisted of side-leg raises, single-leg squats, hamstring raises, clamshells, and kettlebell exercises.

I am planning to keep this up moving forward.

“Keep a notebook. Travel with it, eat with it, sleep with it. Slap into it every stray thought that flutters up into your brain. Cheap paper is less perishable than gray matter. And lead pencil markings endure longer than memory.” —Jack London

When Leonardo da Vinci passed away at the age of 67, he left behind over 20,000 pages of notes and sketches. For most of his life, he carried around a journal as a tool to document and explore numerous subjects. And Leonardo’s not alone. Many others, such as Steve Jobs, Andy Warhol, Marie Curie, Mark Twain, Thomas Edison, Oprah, Albert Einstein, and Ben Franklin, all found benefits from regularly journaling.

Part of what makes this simple act so effective is that it provides a way to have an inward dialogue with ourselves. We can explore thoughts, record beautiful moments, complain, convey feelings, and note random ideas. Transferring what is in our head to paper can even be restorative.

Tim Ferriss describes journaling as capturing your worries and concerns on paper so you can carry on with your day. It allows you to begin the day seeing things clearly without worries, “bounc[ing] around all day like a bullet ricocheting inside your skull.”

I’ve been journaling on and off for about 20 years now. Whenever I felt overwhelmed or uncertain about things, I used journaling as a way to collect my thoughts. And taking from Leonardo’s example, I also used journaling to spark ideas for my creative work.

If you are looking to start a journaling habit, here are some things I’ve learned over the years to get the most out of the process:

There shouldn’t be pressure

Journaling shouldn’t feel like a chore but a time to look forward to and cherish. Some find that only 5 minutes a day works for them.

For Leonardo, he wrote for curiosity's sake. Ben Franklin, for personal development. Whatever the intention, make it into whatever feels natural to you.

This writing is for you and you only. Thoughts and ideas are never clean and linear. Scribble, scratch out, sketch, do whatever you like!

Paper is better

It feels ironic for someone who works in tech to say this, but after many years of going back and forth on my journaling method, I always go back to the simple paper and pen method.

Walter Isaacson, the author of biographies for both Steve Jobs and Leonardo da Vinci, describes how it was easier to study and research Leonardo’s physical writings versus Steve Jobs’s digital journal entries, many of which were lost on old hard drives and floppy disks. Paper and pencil may be obsolete, but they will last a long time.

Another thing to mention, as someone who gets easily distracted, paper and pen help to keep things simple. Paper has no software updates, batteries, notifications, or fuss.

Journal everything and anything

Journaling doesn’t just need to be an account of the day. Toss everything and anything into the notebook. You never know when it might come in handy.

One area that I’ve found journaling particularly beneficial for is my running. Keeping a record of my training block and races helps me learn from past mistakes and pinpoint the things that worked well.

Use a journal prompt

On days when I’m feeling particularly uninspired, I found having a journal prompt can provide a nice kickstart to my journaling. Over the years, I’ve mainly used a book called The Daily Stoic Journal - it has many thought-provoking questions that serve as mental check-in. Another one that has been recommended is The Artist’s Way Morning Pages Journal by Julia Cameron. There are also plenty of sites with prompts too.

Every day, a million little things enter our minds and swirl around in our thoughts. Decisions, ideas, dilemmas, and conflicts. Writing these down can help extract the important bits and clear the mind.

Journaling isn’t going to solve all your problems, but it can certainly help. Find a free 5 to 15 minutes (you don’t need much time) and start writing. You won’t regret it.

Thirty feels like a slap in the face and a welcoming hug. An awkward age of becoming old and departing young. The point at which the sheer number of birthday candles can be considered an incendiary hazard. And while I don’t yet get the benefits of a senior discount, I am thankful and excited for this milestone and the new decade. 

Reflecting on the past ten years, I can summarize most of it into one word: discovery.

In my early twenties, I was lost, passionate, and hungry. I was ready for new adventures. I began discovering myself and uncovering the things that truly excited me. My interest in art and storytelling led me to drawing, writing, photography, and filmmaking. I discovered my love for trail running, the outdoors, and the joy of reading. Ten years of lessons, missteps, success, and failure brought me to where I am today.

There were so many positives from my twenties. I met my soulmate, got married, built long-lasting friendships, became an uncle, ran ultramarathons, traveled to several countries, lived in Boston, and found a job where I can utilize a lot of my creative skills. 

However, the past decade also had its challenges too. I lived a majority of it in financial stress, I lost friends, I was laid off during the pandemic, several close relatives had cancer, and there were disagreements with my family that pulled at relationships. 

In no way do I have life figured out, but I’m realizing life’s highs and lows are equally important. Bad times give perspective, and good times give gratitude.

As I step into my thirties, I’m taking the following advice and lessons I’ve learned along the way — many of which I continue to improve upon in the upcoming years:

1. Communication is key

2. Spend money on experiences

3. Don’t worry about what people are thinking

4. Regularly talk/spend time with family

5. College doesn’t guarantee success

6. Regularly invest

7. Stay present

8. Consistently step out of the comfort zone

9. Consistently take time to reset and realign

10. Never skimp on recovery

11. Never skimp on strength training

12. Never skimp on good, healthy food

13. Never skimp on sleep

14. Ego is the enemy

15. Comparison is a killer

16. Don’t take things for granted

17. Journal every day

18. Say no

19. It’s either a Hell Yeah or No

20. Ask for help

21. Failure is a part of the process

22. Small progress every day

23. Read everyday

24. Approach life with love in your heart

25. Stay curious

26. Always question

27. Don’t forget to have fun

28. Smile

And before I end, I want to share a short excerpt from the Dr. Seuss classic, One Fish, Two Fish, Red Fish, Blue Fish :

“Today is gone. Today was fun.

Tomorrow is another one.

Every day, from here to there,

funny things are everywhere.”

Here’s to another year around the sun! 

Sending love and good vibes,

Ryan

Hiking

We hiked a lot during the trip, especially in the Swiss Alps. Switzerland has a great transportation system, so almost every spot we traveled to was either by train, gondola, or both. However, keep an eye on the time since many places close around 5:30 pm.

Schynige Platte Trail

Length: ~ 4 miles

This trail takes the cake for the most spectacular views. The path forms a loop along a mountain ridge that provides endless views of the town of Interlaken thousands of feet below.

There was a wide array of flowers and plants at this location. Everything from aster, rhododendron, laurel, and edelweiss, to name a few.

You will notice here and in many other spots in the Swiss Alps that livestock can roam freely through the land. Most animals are wearing bells that give an almost wind chime noise when heard from far away. It’s a pretty nice sound except for when you’re trying to sleep.

Männlichen Trail

Length: 3.5 miles

We didn’t hike this trail altogether, but it’s worth mentioning since it was the location for most of my runs and the course for the race I ran (more on that later). Starting in Wengen, the path heads up to the ridge of Männlichen 3000 ft. above. It’s a technical trail, but you are rewarded with spectacular views above the treeline roughly halfway. Plus, at the top, there is an overlook with a 360-degree view of the landscape.

Männlichen to Kleine Scheidegg

Length: 3.5 miles

After taking a gondola up to the ridge of Männlichen, we began our slightly downhill trek to the small town of Kleine Scheidegg. The views from this trail are fantastic, and you can see right down the valley to the town of Grindelwald. Towards the end of the hike, the Eiger and Jungfrau mountains come into full view.

Also, a quick tangent: I was surprised by the number of playgrounds throughout our stay in the Swiss Alps. They were 10/10 playgrounds too. I’d be tempted to get on them if they weren’t covered with four-year-olds zooming all around.

Mt. First to Bachalpsee Lake

Length: (down & back) 4 miles

After taking a 25 min gondola ride to the top of Mt. First (pronounced ‘feerst’), we started our hike out to Bachalpsee Lake. The trip is uphill there and downhill back.

Lake Bachalpsee is beautiful and a great spot to relax for lunch. While there, a group of cows walked along the water, feeding on grass and minding their business. What a life they got.

Grütschalp to Mürren

Length: 3.5 miles

This was a nice hike on the opposite side of the valley from where we were staying. The walk was beautiful, with several wooded sections. We hiked into Mürren, a cute little town with restaurants, hotels, and shops. After staying there for a couple of hours, we took the train back.

Activities

Castle of Thun

Wow, this town made me realize how young America still is!

Towards the end of our stay, we took a train to the town of Thun (pronounced ‘tune’). The castle immediately catches your attention as soon as you enter the town. The buildings and the covered bridges are beautiful and have an old-world feel.

The castle of Thun was built around 1180, which is so hard to comprehend! The five floors include artifacts and historical records, both describing the history of the castle, but also the surrounding town. Looking down from one of the castle spires made me feel like the insulting French knights from Monty Python and the Holy Grail.

One of the many interesting items displayed in the castle was the town’s executioner sword. Inscribed on both sides of a blade was an unsolved encrypted message.

Grindelwald - Rodelbahn

The Rodelbahn was a group favorite during the trip. After a gondola ride from Grindelwald to a mountain overlook, we arrived at a metal track that snaked along the mountainside. After getting tickets, you get in line and hop into these plastic toboggans with a lever used to speed up or brake. Once the light turns green, you slide down the twisting turning track while also picking up some serious speed. It was fun watching others blast down the hill like they were in hot pursuit.

This can get pretty touristy, so it helps to get there early. But regardless of the lines, it was well worth it.

Running

Switzerland is the most beautiful place I have ever run. My favorite part was while we stayed in Wengen. Running in Lucerne and Zurich was also great, but I’ve always preferred the remote trails over urban streets.

The first run in Wengen was a rough awakening. After only a few miles, I was huffing and puffing up a gravel-maintenance road connecting the small mountain villages. I felt out of shape.

I failed to remember that I needed to acclimate to the altitude—especially coming from the meager 300 ft. elevation in Durham, NC. Luckily, the next day’s run was a little easier. And then the following day, still a bit easier. I was slowly acclimatizing, and running was beginning to feel normal again.

The Männlichen Trail Race

Before the trip, Kyle discovered a trail race in the same town we were staying at. It was a perfect coincidence and too good to pass up.

Unlike most trail races with a bulk start, this race spans several months and holds a leaderboard of the fastest times for the year. Three detectors along the course (start, halfway, finish) record the official splits and post them to the live standings.

I planned for Wednesday for a full attempt on the course, which gave me four days to adjust to the altitude and recon the trail.

Wednesday morning arrived and at 8 am, I clipped on my race number and set off. With the days of scoping out the trail, I divided the course into three sections:

Section one is getting out of town. I navigated the byzantine roads and steep sidewalks to the Mannlichen trailhead.

As soon as you turn off the trails, the difficulty immediately increases. For the next 1.5 miles, a small rocky singletrack trail meanders up a wooded section of the Mannlichen mountain. To keep momentum, foot placement was critical, and taking the right line up the rocky sections could save costly seconds.

The third and final section was above the tree line. At this point, the legs were burning, and the ridgeline finish felt tantalizingly close. With the thin air, I was breathing like a full-steam locomotive.

Finally, though, I crested the mountain and passed through the finish banner at 46:15, officially claiming the top spot on the leaderboard!

Culture

Switzerland is a fascinating hodgepodge of numerous cultures. And with tourists, it wasn’t uncommon to hear 6 or 7 languages while on the train or out to eat.

Before the trip, I spent some of my free-time learning German. However, I later realized that Switzerland actually has four native languages (Swiss German, French, Italian, and Romansh), depending on the region.

Thankfully most people could understand English, but there were several times when having a better understanding of Swiss German would have come in handy.

Shopkeepers and locals tended to say speak a mix of different languages. For example, while I was leaving a store, one of the employees said, “Danke. Merci. Thank you.” They’d cover all the top languages to ensure they get their message across.

I read online that Switzerland and Swiss people have a reputation for being boring, but this couldn’t be farther from the truth. Our nights in both Zürich and Lucerne were anything but dull. Both cities had a very active nightlife. Families, couples, and groups of teenagers all congregated near the riverwalks. There was music playing and people chatting everywhere. It was lovely to be a part of it as we sat down and listened to a jazz band play by the water.

I also loved the architecture in the Swiss alps. Everything from the chalets on the green mountain pastures to the old stone buildings and cobblestone streets. There was an old-world charm that felt truly special.

Food

Most of our days, we were cooking at our Airbnb, but for the times we did go out, the food was truly fantastic but expensive.

Hidtl, in Zurich, is the oldest vegetarian restaurant in the world! It has a buffet-style approach where you get what you want and pay by weight. The unlimited buffet was $68, and if we weren’t walking and doing other activities later, I would have gotten this and undoubtedly got my money’s worth.

Most days, we gathered supplies at our local Co-op grocery store, and there were several standout items worth mentioning:

• The ready-made meals were fresh, great tasting, and top-notch.

• All bread and pastries were fresh and sometimes right out of the oven!

• The muesli was fantastic, and I had it for breakfast and snacks. The brand I got was called C.M., which had bits of dried apple and golden raisins.

• Camille Bloch Torino Noir - were tiny cylinder-shaped dark chocolate bars with a creamy mousse filling. It was amazing and came in packs of five.

Even though I had a minimal look at the traditional Swiss cuisine, the parts I did try were terrific. Several of us even noticed during the trip that our skin felt clearer too. It makes me wonder what the U.S. allows into our foods. 😬

Would I go back?

Absolutely, yes.

For next time, I would mainly stay in the Swiss Alps. Then, maybe try some more technical trails like the west face of the Eiger.

I hope this is useful for anyone traveling here soon or planning to in the future.

Vielen Dank, Switzerland!

Fifteen minutes till the next railcar. At the intersection of Trade Street, anxious vehicles pack the streets, slowly inching forward while scurrying people pass in all directions. Trees obscure the roadway lights' stale yellow glow, causing morphed, other-worldly appearances. Intoxicated conversations litter the air. 

Across the road, a street vendor grills under a makeshift tent. A winding line grows. I’m hungry, and it's getting late. The longing smells of street food couldn’t penetrate the billowing exhaust of the waiting cars. 

A group of kids on bikes weave through the gridlocked cars. One boy wheeled into oncoming traffic. As one car screeched to a halt, onlookers gasped in fright. The boy narrowly missed the vehicle pivoting his back wheel at the last moment. The boy laughed back to the group, shrugging off the near-accident. The bike posse left, disappearing down a side street.

Vehicles of all types now scattered the road—cars with multi-colored lights, exotic machines, sputtering motorcycles, bass-blasting Cadillacs, and whizzing run-downs. From afar, I could see the railcar with its piercing white headlights. More people appeared and gathered on the sidewalks. Scooters zoomed past groups of walkers giving each other sour glances. 

The railcar arrived. I leaned against the wall, bracing as the railcar sprang off. My eyes adjusted to the cabin’s bright overhead lights. Intercoms gave undiscernible announcements while a mixture of conversations resonated through the space. 

Once out of the city, the skyline came into view. Skyscraper lights pierced into the stratosphere, bleaching the cloudy sky a dull gray. The town seemed lighter from afar.

I got off on Sunnyside Ave. The streets were dark with the occasional lamp glow on the house-studded road. I watched the gentle breeze graze the old tree branches. The darkness was different, taking on a sleepier form. 

The night was a chameleon—an ever-changing figure molded by the surroundings. I saw both sides of it tonight.

Arno Rafael Minkkinen gave a commencement speech1 to the 2004 graduation class at the New England School of Photography. During his talk, he covered what is now called The Helsinki Bus Station Theory.

Minkkinen being from the hometown of Helsinki, Finland, gave an account of the bus station that runs at the city’s core. Each bus takes the same path from the city station for roughly a kilometer. Along the way, there are bus stops. In Minkkinen’s metaphor, each bus stop symbolizes a year of work, and different buses represent different creative routes. 

At the start, all buses begin a parallel journey, and as a creative, work begins as synonymous with others. People might say, “This looks like X’s work.” or “This reminds me of the artist Y.” In frustration, you get off at the next bus stop and take a cab back to the station to take another, different bus—starting a new creative route.

But, just like before, you begin to notice that your work has similarities to others. What’s the deal? Every route you go, you don’t diverge in a creative direction.

Minkkinen’s solution is simple:

“Stay on the bus. Stay on the f*cking bus. Because if you do, in time, you will begin to see a difference.”

As I mentioned earlier, the buses out of Helsinki stay on the same line for only a portion of the route. However, once out of the city, their paths begin to diverge. One bus goes north, one goes south, and the others travel unique pathways across the land. 

“It’s the separation that makes all the difference,” Minkkinen said. In other words, patience and continuing your work will lead to that breakthrough. 

You might be several stops on a bus now. If so, stay on.

You might be at the station. If so, pick one and stay on. 

If life is going to exist in a Universe of this size, then the one thing it cannot afford to have is a sense of proportion.

― Douglas Adams, author of Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy

I’ve always had a thing for sentimental objects. Over the years, I amassed a collection of nostalgia-packed trinkets in a small metal box, nearly bursting at the seams. I recently dug through this container of items and stumbled across one of my earliest additions — an acorn.

I first picked up this acorn when I was ten. Summer break had begun, having completed 4th grade. I was officially an older kid. Practically a grown man minus some factors we’ll leave for anatomy class. Either way, it felt like a major milestone. I wrote down the date and my age to remember this pivotal moment.

I thought about my future self. What would I be like at 20 or 30? It felt a lifetime away. I imagined the older versions of my siblings and me — all the things we would experience and places we would live. It was disorientating but fun to speculate. 

I asked a lot of questions:

Will I get over my fear of needles? (sorta, depends on the size) 

Will I like tomatoes? (yes, but not by themselves) 

Will I ever beat the evil pig boss, Wizpig, in Donkey Kong Racing? (no)

Will I like coffee? (yes, a little too much)

At the time, I lived on the mailbox studded streets of southern suburbia. Each day of adventures consisted of me packing my oversized cargo-short pockets with Cheeze-Its and carefully stashing my slime green GameBoy into the heavily velcroed side pocket. It all fit. 

I was with my first girlfriend, who lived right down the road. My girlfriend’s parents were strict and disliked me. Little snot-nosed boys were a distraction. And while my girlfriend honed her writing and math skills for a trajectory to ivy-league excellence, I recklessly biked the streets, enduring a stomach ache from a mix of flamin’ hot Cheetos, pocket Cheeze-Its, and worrisome quantities of chocolate milk. 

Dating comprised of biking around the neighborhood and reluctantly sharing my stash of snacks. There was no kissing or other hanky panky, just playing games with our hyperactive imaginations on the grill-hot asphalt. 

Now nearly 20 years ago, these memories are still vividly baked into my mind, all adhered to the acorn that serves as a bookmark for this previous chapter.

Time is an odd thing.

Or, as Einstein describes it, “Time is an illusion.”

At ten, time was thick molasses. Days felt like weeks, seasons felt like years and years like decades. Time was hardly discernible for stretches longer than an episode of Spongebob Squarepants. 

But now, time is deceptively quick, where memories start mixing chronologically. Things happened during that year instead of during that month. Even recollections of events become a dehydrated two-liner. 

Time is like a rubber band.

When I was younger, the rubber band stretched nearly to its maximum capability. My perception of time was elongated and boundless. Yet, as I get older, that band shrinks, making my perception of time shorter and shorter still.

This phenomenon is due to an array of physical and mental factors1. However, one common theme is that new experiences play a role in the perception of time. When we are younger, there is so much to observe, absorb, and learn — time is consequently perceived as being slower. As we get older, we experience more, and hence there are fewer things we encounter as unique events.

Even though this acorn started as a little memento of my time at ten, now nearing 30, it feels like it has new significance as I reflect similarly on my future but with a different time lens. No, I’m not drawing the date down on an acorn this time but instead using this article to capture my thoughts—a digital acorn per se.

There was so much more than just a view from my home office. The densely wooded scenery across the street soon became the construction site for several large apartments. And while the building commotion quickly increased, I started to hear nostalgic tunes among the overload of construction noise. 

The events started punctually at 3 pm. The echo-y speakers started playing the old-fashioned jingle of The Entertainer and switched to Turkey in the Straw. To my surprise, an ice cream truck had found its way through the construction entrance and onto the dusty clay roads. A flood of workers soon congregated at the van’s side window while an exchange of cash and ice cream quickly ensued.

Every weekday, this pattern continued. The ice cream truck, with its glossy white finish and menu of multicolored treats, quickly became the afternoon hotspot. I named this truck, Classic for its nostalgic appearance, which reminded me of the trucks that drove around my neighborhood growing up. Classic controlled all the business for the entire site, but their solo reign was short-lived. 

After several weeks of Classic’s afternoon visits, it was strange when one day, I heard the intercom tunes around 2:30 — earlier than usual. The ice cream truck songs were not from Classic but another vehicle. A dark green van was racing down the construction road, scattering red dirt in its wake. Its menu of frozen desserts looked hastily slapped on, like one of those sticker-covered walls at a dive bar. This vehicle blurred the lines between an 80s sprinter van and a questionable food truck. It didn’t like playing by the rules, and thus, I named it Rogue.

 Once Rogue parked in the central lot, the workers looked confused as they walked out, expecting to see Classic’s polished white van. But after discovering Rogue provided similar treats to Classic, the workers sheepishly walked up to the truck and ordered. Then, 3 pm rolled around, and Classic arrived at the construction site. The two clashing intercoms blasting tunes made for an ear-splitting sound. Classic parked nearby, curiously eyeing this unknown intruder. Soon, the workers started to split into separate lines. Classic got about a quarter of their standard customers. The drivers looked over at each other, and I could sense the growing tension. There was no playing nice straight from the start. 

The next day Classic came storming in early, around 2 pm, gathering orders. Rogue drove in 15 minutes later, and rather than parking at the lot where Classic was, they did a quick lap around the vicinity to let everyone know they were here. Rogue then stopped on the construction site's opposite side, claiming new territory. Classic and Rogue now had their own turf.

The battle continued for several weeks before changing tactics. First, Classic started offering free bottled water for each customer, but Rogue soon parried this move by providing the same service. Next, Classic started arriving right at lunchtime, and Rogue followed suit. Then Classic began to sell a range of different snacks while Rogue sweetened its deals with discounted soda. The trucks were in an all-out war for business, utilizing their entire playbook. 

As the summer came to a close and the cool fall weather arrived, the trucks eventually stopped visiting the site. And now, almost a full year later, the apartment complex is nearly complete. But with summer quickly approaching, I thought about Rogue and Classic. Maybe somewhere out there, they are preparing for their subsequent encounter. Or perhaps they’re battling it out right now at another building site. Whatever the circumstances, one thing is for sure — rivalry is a dish best served cold and sugary.

“He set his sights on the stars and soared across the night sky. The end.”

The father lightly closed the book and looked over at the young boy. His eyes were closed, but he didn’t have the rhythmic breathing of sleep. The father slowly stood and placed the book on the boy’s dresser. Once doing this, he heard a stirring of sheets on the bed and a quiet yawn. He looked over and noticed the boy sitting in bed with a half-drowsy look.

“Why is space dark?” asked the boy rubbing his tired eyes. 

The father walked back over to the edge of the bed and sat down. “Space is very large. It’s similar to how a tiny flashlight can’t light an entire room.”

The young boy thought for a moment and then looked back at the father with a confused look. “How big is space?”

“It goes on for infinity.”

“What does infinity mean?

“It means it goes on farther than we can ever count.”

“Even more than a million gazillion?”

“Yes, even more than that.”

The boy thought about this. The father could tell his mind was racing with this concept.

“How many galaxies are there?”

“Infinite.”

“How many planets?”

“Infinite too.”

“And people?”

“About 8 billion.”

“People are not infinite?” asked the boy appearing confused.

“No, from what we know, the earth is the only place where there are humans.”

The boy paused to think this over, “So there’s infinite space, infinite galaxies, and infinite planets but not infinite humans?”

“Correct.”

The boy looked concerned with this discovery.

“Why aren’t we infinite?”

“Well, the Earth is the only place we know that has humans, and we age differently than planets and galaxies. Planets can last millions of years while we live to around one hundred if we are lucky.”

“Only one hundred!?” the boy exclaimed, astonished. 

“Yeah, that’s just how nature works.”

“Well, what if I want us to live to a million years old.”

The father chuckled and patted the boy’s head. “If you found a way to do that, you would be the richest person on earth.”

“You mean space?”

The father chuckled lightly, “Yeah, come to think of it, you are right. In all of space.”

“I’ll find a way.” the boy said with strong, unwavering confidence.

Then a sudden shift went over the boy’s mind, and his face turned swiftly to his father.

“Could we go to the park with the big metal slide tomorrow?”

The father smiled and kissed the boy on the head, “Yes, we can, but you need to go to bed now.”

“Alright goodnight, Daddy.”

“Goodnight.”

I

The opponent is ever-present, an enfolding shadow, 
ready to clutch the wandering mind. 
Initially, awareness is quick, and defenses are up, 
but a shift occurs without notice. 
The competitor feeds off growing exhaustion 
as thoughts become loud and chaotic.

II

The rival entered the ring without warning, 
and their grasp is firmly on the mind. 
The defenses raise the alarm, 
yet the adversary has seized the high ground. 
A barrage of sharp doubts batters the mind 
while the echoes of past matches encircle.

III

Time transforms, causing each ensuing second 
to inch forward at an agonizing pace. 
While the unbridled mind desperately seeks solace. 
Ahead stands an endless crossroads, 
the choice of either defeat or defy. 

IV

Victory is a hard-won fight, 
and the journey carries triumph’s value. 
The rival’s race cannot be separated. 
A disguised symbiotic bond.
Just as trees grow strong in the wind, 
willpower tempers from every duel.

Against ourselves is the match. 
Maintain the tally in your favor.