AN ANNOUNCEMENT FROM ME: After 150+ people took my How To Tell One Story online writing course this past winter, we’ve decided to offer it only in limited windows for the rest of 2025. The first signup window is May 16 (today!) through May 23, and we’re limiting the number of spots. Why limit the number of spots? Because of one big change: When you complete the course, I’ll give you personalized feedback on the story you wrote during the course. That of course takes some time and bandwidth from me, so we’re limiting signups. All the details are on this page—if you’re interested, grab a spot!

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I heard from so many people in response to the “Maybe Next Time. Maybe Not” photo essay I published a few weeks ago that I decided to turn it into a short YouTube edit (video)

Almost every time I talk to anyone about the idea of starting a newsletter or a Substack, or just writing more regularly, I find myself mentioning my friend Mike Sowden, and his newsletter, Everything Is Amazing, which, as I have said here before, is wonderful. Mike has built a big audience for his writing by being curious, following his curiosity, enthusiastically sharing what he’s found, and also finding ways to share bits and pieces of what he’s found (or edited versions of what he’s found) on social media. A few weeks ago, his Substack readership went over 30,000 people, and he wrote up some advice based on what he’s learned. Oh, also, Mike is an incredibly nice guy, which I think is a very underrated and maybe underreported tool for success.

I just finished drawing up an illustration for newsletter sponsor Janji for next week, titled “Lies I Have Told My Pacer(s),” and I might have been thinking about all the folks Janji had running in the Cocodona 250—several athletes and also their athlete manager, Kyla (!)—out there grinding out long days and nights in probably somewhat compromised emotional states. I also noticed I had recently started wearing my Janji Trailbreaker Hat around the same time, which I’m loving because it’s starting to get warmer around here and I look at that hat and see what they would call “airy mesh” and I would call “big holes for my sweaty head to breathe more.”

Have you ever wondered about the “Strava Tax”—that crushing moment when you’ve stopped running or hiking or cycling when your watch says 6.00 miles or 20.00 miles or whatever, only to find that when your watch uploaded your data to Strava, your Strava page says it was 5.99 miles or 19.99 miles? Well, the folks at Strava have written a piece explaining it, and the “how” is actually a pretty simple technology thing, but a little more complex as to why they do it.

I read Alex Hutchinson’s book, Endure: Mind, Body, and the Curiously Elastic Limits of Human Performance, back in 2019, and have followed his Sweat Science column for a very long time—generally I read his stuff and think things like, “Thank you, smart guy, for digging through the research and validating the practice of positive self-talk during vigorous exercise.” So it was fantastic to interview him about his new book, The Explorer’s Gene: Why We Seek Big Challenges, New Flavors, and the Blank Spots on the Map, for the Trailhead podcast. (The podcast is, of course, about endurance and ultramarathons, but we spent some time talking about why it’s harder to find new music you like as you get older, and whether or not Alex “explores” much in his regular training runs around his home in Toronto.)
Apple Podcasts | Spotify

I can’t decide if I want to see Friendship when it comes out (I’ve heard it called “hilarious” but also “deeply uncomfortable”), but I did love this piece on The Ringer detailing the history of the bromance in movies—including the film historian arguing that it’s basically an American phenomenon.

When I interviewed a bunch of dads for a hopefully-someday-book project around the time Jay was born (book still coming, I swear!), one of my friends, Chris, said something like, “Having kids is great—you get to eat macaroni and cheese again.” I of course have never stopped eating macaroni and cheese, but Chris was right, in that I do eat more of it now. Hilary found this Three Ingredient Stovetop Mac and Cheese recipe (by Kenji Lopez-Alt) a few weeks back, and I finally made it myself on Wednesday, and I am pleased to announce that it is a) fantastic and b) really easy. Although you do need to keep stirring it throughout. (Of course Kenji Lopez-Alt points out that three total ingredients is actually one fewer ingredient than is used in making a box of Kraft macaroni and cheese)

There are many great things about this Austin Kleon piece on “Questions Without Answers,” including the link to his other piece, “7 questions I ask myself (when I don’t know what to do next),” but my favorite part might be all the comments from readers sharing the best question a kid ever asked them.

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About twice a week, sometimes more, I ask myself if I am truly up for the challenge that day: The Hill.

It’s always on my way home, in the final mile of my run, and I can avoid it by making a left turn during the second-to-last mile, going a different way home—the flatter route, the easy way out. Most days I tell myself a story about not taking that easy way, that the route to personal growth is always the difficult one: The Hill.

Some days, though, I am tired. Maybe it’s been a stressful week, maybe I haven’t slept that well for a night or two, maybe I’m dehydrated, or maybe I just don’t feel like pushing myself. I give myself some grace, let myself take it easy, run the flat way home, along 6th Street. And it’s fine. I don’t beat myself up. I just stop my watch, end my run, walk into my house and go about my life.

The Hill is 17 feet high, according Strava, or 13 feet high, according to repeated measurements on my watch. It’s 0.13 mile long, about 200 meters in track terms, or maybe 200-some running strides. As far as running hills go, it’s no Heartbreak Hill of Boston Marathon fame (which rises 88 feet), or Mile 23 of the NYC Marathon (about 90 feet of climbing in a mile). And it is certainly no Mt. Sentinel, the mountain I usually go partway or all the way up and down on my runs—the summit is almost 2000 vertical feet above town.

I like climbing mountains. I like big ascents. I welcome the challenge of steep trails. But this little, 17-foot-high hill, not even really a hill, more just a gentle incline going up from the river, is the worst part of my runs. It is more annoying than daunting. It is driving all day to get home only to get stuck in traffic a mile from your house. It is those paper towel dispensers where you have to pull with both hands, except your hands are wet because you just washed them, so you rip off pieces of the paper towel three times in a row before you either finally get one out of the dispenser or just decide to wipe your hands on your pants. It is the invisible bump in the floor that you stumble on, spilling your too-full coffee after you’ve just managed to carry it all the way across the coffee shop to a table, GOD DAMN IT.

It is 17 feet, not steep enough to justify walking, confoundingly exhausting to run up. There is no Zen koan/clever reason why it is hard even though it shouldn’t be that hard, and maybe no allegorical life lesson, it is just an annoying little hill I have run up 170-plus times.

It is a small, not very interesting mystery of my personal universe, and I do not understand why I choose to or don’t choose to run it. I will probably do it again today, or tomorrow, and definitely a couple times next week, because that’s just what we do, isn’t it?

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If you enjoyed this piece, please consider supporting my work. (and get a $50 discount on my online writing course!)

Today is the last day to sign up for this session of my How To Tell One Story online writing workshop! As of my writing this on Wednesday evening, there were still a couple spots available. We’ll open registrations again in August, but this is it until then. If you’re curious about writing, or want to write and just need a framework and some “kind and encouraging lessons” (as a past student put it), you can read more about the course and/or sign up at this link: semi-rad.com/courses

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Speaking of creativity and storytelling, I ended up really liking what this video had to say about “original ideas”—not that we shouldn’t chase original ideas (as the title says), but that your specific perspective and effort is what makes something unique, so you might as well try. (video)

Maybe you weren’t staring out the window this morning thinking, “You know what I could use today? A really beautiful poem about onions.” Or: Maybe that’s why you read this newsletter: the off chance you’ll encounter a really beautiful poem about onions.

Trust me: Take 60 seconds, or 90 seconds (OK, maybe more like three to four minutes) and scroll through the photos created by the winners of the Milky Way Photographer of the Year Awards (via Kottke.org).

This is not a new piece from newsletter sponsor Precision Fuel & Hydration, but I recently wrote about feeling lucky to have not had many major injuries in the almost 10 years I’ve been running ultramarathons, so it was interesting to go through Damian Hall’s bullet points in Ultra training: Is it possible to stay injury free? and see if I could find any similarities to my own training. Especially since he wrote it when he was 45, didn’t start running until his mid-30s, is a dad of two kids, and is really fast. (reminder that the above link gives you 15% off your first purchase at PFH)

I have a copy of cartoonist Jason Chatfield’s new book, You’re Not A Real Dog Owner Until… on my desk right now, and sure, I’d advise you to buy a copy for yourself, but I think a better piece of advice might be to buy it for someone on your holiday shopping list and just hang onto it until the holidays rolls around, at which point you will be feeling quite a bit more pressure to find a gift for a person who loves their dog(s) but also loves laughing their ass off.

I have read a lot of essays about AI in the past few months, and no one has made sense of it better than (no surprise) Oliver Burkeman, in this piece about “navigating by aliveness.” A snippet: “I have two things to say about that, the first of which is that I don’t believe it: that aliveness is so central to meaningful human experience that there’ll always be a market for those who can cultivate it, embed it in what they create, foster it in institutions and organisations, and bring people together to experience it.”

I thought the headline on this BBC story about “people stuck using ancient Windows computers” was intriguing, and it was interesting discovering how much important stuff in our world relies on super-old systems, but the real gem for me was about three-quarters of the way through story, in which I learned that Washington State University-Vancouver has an Electronic Literature Lab, which sounds amazing: “Founded and directed by Dr. Dene Grigar, the Electronic Literature Lab (ELL) contains over 80 vintage Macintosh & PC computers, dating back from 1977, vintage software, peripherals, and a library of over 300 works of electronic literature and other media.” As in, there’s no way to view the art pieces except on the computers preserved at the ELL.

I don’t think you need a reason to have holiday lights up all year, but this one is particularly, inarguably, heartwarmingly (is that a word?) valid.

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I have recommended the 1996 Geena Davis + Samuel L. Jackson film The Long Kiss Goodnight before in this newsletter, so it felt really good to have a YouTube film critic with a large following endorse it as “one of the most underrated and overlooked action movies of the 1990s,” as well as explain why it’s so good (and why Mitch is one of Samuel L. Jackson’s favorite characters he’s played!). (video)

Years ago, I was climbing a multi-pitch route with a French friend who was pretty fluent in English, and we paused at a belay to eat a snack and drink some water. Simon pulled a small stuff sack from his pack and from the stuff sack a few food items, including the most battered energy bar I had ever seen. He held it up and said to me, “Theese ees my friend. He goes weeth me everywhere.” I of course understood exactly what he meant, as I, like every one, had the one bar that I kept bringing on hikes and climbs, but never eating, because I had better options. It was like an emergency ration that I kind of knew I would never eat unless I was on the verge of starvation. If you know what I mean, you will love artist Cy Whitling’s latest comic, “The Eternal Granola Bar.”

I was clicking through Substack yesterday, wanting to find someone who wrote an actual story, a narrative of something that happened in real life. It wouldn’t have to be anything spectacular, just a story. And I found it. It was titled “I Agreed to Help Pick Up a Couch and Ended Up Participating in a Street Performance” and it made my day. If you read it, I am betting you will say to yourself, “Yes, I know or have met someone like Moonbeam.”

If you are from the Midwest or have just spent some time there, perhaps you might enjoy this short poem by New Yorker poetry editor and T.S. Eliot Prize winner Kevin Young, “Ode to the Midwest.”

I have spent some time over the past few months thinking about AI and how it’s going to affect (or is already affecting) our lives, and I am not sure I have much of a measure of understanding of it, except that I am trying to embrace things that make me feel human. And I think this piece, titled “The Who Cares Era,” captures something similar to what I’m feeling. (via Kottke.org)

Many of the links in this newsletter lead you to videos or articles that require a few minutes to fully experience. This Reddit post will take you six seconds to watch and will provide a small bit of wholesome joy.

I have mentioned before in this newsletter that I have been enjoying the live DJ mixes I often find on YouTube, but I think the production of this one might be my favorite yet: camcorder footage, a few different angles, a little bit of video editing, and a bunch of R&B tracks (and some live drumming). Plus the title is “the homies mixing R&B and chilling with a pineapple.”

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I have a million unread emails in my inbox and I’m doing this instead, I say to myself, as I try to not fall off the ladder—or at least remember to let go of the trigger of the circular saw before I do fall off the ladder. 

I also should probably clean the bathroom, start writing that thing for next week, research that other thing, put the new wheel on Jay’s bike, call an arborist about that tree limb, make an appointment for a haircut, and do a bunch of other stuff that would require me to actually sit down at my desk.

Alas. Today, I have chosen to make wood shapes. Or, more precisely, I am creating a small building.

At some point last winter or spring, Hilary and I had a conversation in which I believed she said it would be fun if Jay had a “playhouse” in our backyard. So, I started planning to build one—at first, in my head, and then in April I think, I made a crude sketch in a notebook with some measurements. I then lost the notebook somewhere. 

When I announced my intentions to begin building the playhouse, Hilary was surprised, saying that she thought we had talked about a “stick fort” somewhere in the backyard. Which is a much different project. You say to-may-to, I say to-mah-to.

Here’s what I have so far: 

In the course of owning our house and building lots of Unaesthetic But Functional Furniture in the past five years, I have hoarded accrued a rather large stash of leftover wood. Last winter, I realized that my collection of old wood has started to take up way too much room in our garage, and that I should do something about it. Inside me is a crusty old man who owns a box containing ten pounds of old mismatched screws he has saved JUST IN CASE, because you never know. Leftover screws are one thing, but leftover wood takes up a lot of space. 

So I’m building this playhouse. Jay can play in it until he outgrows it, at which point we can use it to store shovels and garden implements. (I’m building it tall enough for an average adult to stand up inside)

The playhouse looks the way it does because as a hoarder of wood, I am not allowing myself to buy new wood. I am trying to use up wood from my collection, and if I need wood, I can buy it from one of our two local reused building materials stores, Home ReSource and Waste Less Works. 

Am I just procrastinating my real work? Sure. Does this feel more like “real work” than what I do for a living? Physically, yes: My hands are tired, I get the occasional splinter, I get a little dirty. When I finish this project, a small building will exist, and that will be quite satisfying. The audience for the work is one person who is three feet tall. I will not be paid for this work, I will not keep track of “likes,” or any sort of “engagement” or ROI. 

A while back, I was talking to a friend who’s also a dad and he said he wished his kids saw him doing something more concrete—he was working for a startup tech company, when his kids saw Dad work, they saw him sitting in front of a laptop, doing Zoom meetings or clicking and typing. I think about this conversation a lot.

Jay is turning three years old soon, and he rarely sees me work, since his curious/chaotic presence near a computer or iPad is generally, uh, obstructive—and I also hope he grows up thinking life is outside of electronic devices, not inside them, however naive that might be of me. 

Another quote I think about often: My friend Forest saying to me, “No one likes to see someone they respect staring at a phone.” 

I don’t know at what age my job (what I do for a living) will really make sense to Jay, because a lot of days, moving words and shapes around on glowing screens of various sizes doesn’t feel that “real” to me either. But holy shit is he interested in hammers, and nails, and climbing ladders, and using clamps, and handing me screws. 

If you asked Jay right now what his dad does, he’d probably tell you that I run, ride a bike, cook, wash dishes, clean up potty training accidents, and drive a car every once in a while. And if we’re really partying, Dad operates power tools (including Jay’s favorite, the vacuum cleaner), hammers nails, drills holes, cuts wood, and builds a few things. Including this playhouse, which I imagine will be kind of ugly when I finish it. 

But making it pretty isn’t the point. I’m not sure I know what the point is, but I heard this exchange between Austin Kleon and Ryan Holiday on Holiday’s podcast a few months back and I think it validates all the time I’m spending in the backyard with a miter saw, a bunch of old 2 x 4s, and a hammer and nails.  

Austin Kleon: I am just such a proponent of everyone practicing some kind of art form no matter how badly, because I always think that time spent doing something creative, on your own, or as a hobby or something like that just means you’re not out there on the street bothering someone or wreaking havoc. … 

I think you’re looking at a culture in which hobbies have disappeared. Like what do people do? 

Ryan Holiday: They spend it on their phone. 

Austin Kleon: They spend it on their phone, raging on Twitter, or like getting pilled on 4chan, or Reddit or whatever. … I’m just like really interested in this idea of hobbies disappearing. 

Ryan Holiday: Like imagine a world where Elon Musk got really into triathlons instead of Twitter. 

Austin Kleon: This clown needs something to do. My hope for that man is like, get him into woodworking. He’s a middle-aged guy—he didn’t figure out, dude, you’re supposed to go fishing now, or like get deeply into World War II books about history or something. 

Ryan Holiday: Because you still have that manic energy, that obsession, but it will feast on itself. Like you get to a point where it can’t go into more work. And if it doesn’t go into something productive or at least socially adaptive, it will destroy you.  

Obviously the fate of the world isn’t riding on whether I have a “real hobby” or if I spend most of my life online. But if Jay ever draws a picture of his dad, I would love it if he didn’t draw a stick figure staring at a phone. 

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If you enjoyed this piece, please consider supporting my work. 

This video is my first time seeing a sweep boat in action, and my first reaction was “DAMN that thing looks unwieldy,” so it’s really cool to watch someone expertly navigating it on Idaho’s Salmon River. (video)

I don’t know if I’ve previously mentioned the Rotating Sandwiches website in this newsletter before, but I have to believe that if you’re reading this newsletter, you know a) someone who would appreciate the Rotating Sandwiches website OR b) someone who would be somewhat confused but also entertained if you just sent them a link to the Rotating Sandwiches website with no context.

I’ve been enjoying literary agent Alia Hanna Habib’s Substack for a while now, but especially this post, Productive Terror: Ten Very Different Writers on How They Got Their Books Done, and especially this bit, from author Annie Hartnett: “I use a sticker chart and give myself a sticker for every 500 words written. It helps to have a visual representation of how much progress you’re making. We are big on sticker charts in the Accountability Workshops, and we’ll do sticker swaps in the mail. I also eat a lot of M&Ms while I write … I read a study in college that candy helps you concentrate and I haven’t questioned it since. Basically the tools I use to finish a book are the exact same ones you use to potty-train a toddler.”

We had one hot day in Missoula last weekend, sort of a warning shot/appetizer for summer. I am thankful that having a baby (and now a toddler) has precipitated a change in my running routine and made me a morning runner most days, but I’m still reminding myself that summer is about 100 days of warm temps. Two things I learned from this article about heat training from newsletter sponsor Precision Fuel & Hydration: a) your brain can basically rewire itself to make you feel more comfortable in the heat and b) heat adaptation can actually increase your psychological tolerance to heat.  I am using Precision’s PH 1000 packets in my water bottles on most of my runs since I tend to sweat a lot no matter what the temperature is, and if you’re looking for an electrolyte drink for running or biking or hiking without a ton of calories/carbs, I recommend them (either of these links will give you 15% off your first PFH order).

Did I read through this entire list of The 100 Best Sports Moments of the Quarter Century? I did not. I did make it through an embarrassingly high number of them, though, and I appreciate that The Ringer included the prompt “How would you explain this moment to someone who’s never watched sports?” for the writers explaining many, if not all of the moments.

This is a not that big of a deal but it is a very satisfying video of a new bike tunnel under Zurich.

Hilary and I have barely watched any shows since Jay was born (I’m not complaining), but we have made time for The Bear. Maybe because we both worked in restaurants for years, or maybe because it’s a good show? Anyway, Season 4 is coming soon (June 25) and the trailer dropped a couple weeks ago. (video)

If for some reason you want to read a deep dive on the technology behind and the history of air sickness bags (aka emesis bags), like I apparently did on Thursday, here you go. (Largest barf bag collection in the world, 6,290 bags, belongs to Niek Vermeulen of the Netherlands, but that number is from 2012)

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VERY IMPORTANT ANNOUNCEMENT:
We’re doing a limited-run water bottle starting today. It has my “What Does Your Urine Say About You?” Chart printed on the side. Is it a reminder to stay hydrated? (yes!) Is it a pee bottle? (up to you!) Is it a conversation piece? (yes!) Can you get one after June 20th, 2025? No. Pre-orders start today, and will close next Friday, June 30th, so if you want one, or know someone who would love one as a gift, here’s where you can order one (or several). Orders will start shipping the first week of August.

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I happened to catch this wonderful short film about the women dory boat guides of the Grand Canyon when I was at Mountainfilm a few weeks ago, and it was one of my favorites. Very excited it’s now on YouTube. (video)

I’ve been reading Michael Estrin’s substack for a while now, and I often find myself laughing at the situations and characters he encounters while doing normal things like going to Chipotle, or in the case of his most recent post, trying to check in for his appointment at the chiropractor. As my wife charitably says whenever we encounter puzzling behavior, “there are many ways of being in the world,” which is way better than my reaction, which is more of a bewildered look, throwing up my hands, and muttering some expletives.

The video for the Talking Heads’ “Psycho Killer” came up in my YouTube feed last week, but I barely glanced at the thumbnail and didn’t click it. And then Hilary sent me the link to it a few days later, and I realized that it was a new video for a 47-year-old song. As one commenter put it: “They waited until Saoirse Ronan was born to make the video. Very professional” (video)

My neighbor poked his head over the fence a few days ago, when the high was in the low 90s here, and said he was surprised that something about me being outside in a long-sleeve shirt. I explained that yes, I am a huge fan of long sleeves in the summer since I spend so much time outside (running). They’re not for everyone, but if I have not used up my lifetime allotment of exposing my skin to the sun, I am damn close, so I prefer long sleeves to slathering on sunscreen (which, if I’m honest, I’m too lazy to do a lot of the time). So I own a lot of sun hoodies, which also protect my neck and ears. My most recent favorite is the Dunescape Mega print one I got from newsletter sponsor Janji—it’s stretchy, the arms are long enough for me to slip my thumbs into the thumb loops and cover my hands, and the pattern means I’m not going to trash it so visibly by wearing it for trail runs under my running vest. It’s available in a bunch of colors in a men’s version and in a women’s version (both M’s and W’s versions have the Dunescape Mega print if you’re into it)

She texted the wrong number asking for advice on what to wear on a first date with a guy, the wrong number guy responded and told her yes, green was as good choice, she wore green, the first date went well, they stayed in touch, and … well, I won’t ruin the ending for you.

I believe Japan does a few things (many things?) better than the United States, and creative manhole covers are one of those things. I was elated but not surprised to see that Major League Baseball collaborated with local artists to create custom manhole covers in honor of the 12 Japanese and Japanese-American players actively playing in the league right now. (thanks, Mitsu)

Look, I am not saying everyone should drink five or more cups of coffee per day, but I’m also not saying people shouldn’t. Anne Kadet, whose Substack is a treasure, interviewed a handful people who drink prodigious amounts of coffee, and it made me feel both happy, less weird, and less alone. And also validated in my choice to make a 9-cup moka pot yesterday afternoon.

Every once in a while—OK, probably every other week—there is a McSweeney’s post that captures my failure to function as a human being in a very specific way, and I read it and laugh, at the story, but more at myself. This most recent one, Welcome To My Well-Stocked Pantry Of Empty Boxes, really hit home just as I was pouring the crumbs of a box of crackers into my mouth while standing in my kitchen.

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We were interviewing a writer whose work I admire
and he mentioned that someone told him

that we now have the technology
that can write articles for you, super fast

And he said Wait, no, what I enjoy is writing the article,
not holding it in my hand and saying “this is the thing that I did”

I have nothing against minced garlic in a jar
but what I really like is when I have the time

to chop the garlic myself
when I tell myself that it’s important

Important enough to take two minutes
to get out a knife my friend Mitsu gave me,

And the cutting board my brother made for me,
and peel the cloves and cut them into tiny pieces

It is two fingers on my wrist checking for a pulse
and one small, symbolic middle finger

to optimizing everything we possibly can
just because we can

Chopping the garlic is of course objectively harder
than using the minced stuff from the jar

but maybe part of me likes it because I think
it makes the story of the meal I cooked better

Of course, not everything good in life is difficult
there’s eating pizza, of course

and naps and and looking at sunsets
that happen without any effort from me

But everybody has their own list of things
that are, to them, Worth The Effort

Like making your own coffee or taking a photo
or raising a kid or remodeling a house

I guess what we’re all asking ourselves
nowadays, in our Brave New World

(and isn’t it just a Somewhat Braver, Newer
World than last year, and the year before that)

is which parts of being human
we want to fast-forward through

and which parts of being human
we want to keep doing with our selves

I have put skins on skis and skied uphill
right next to a perfectly functioning chairlift

And I have hiked to the top of a peak
that has a paved road all the way to its summit

Climbing using only my legs and feet
and climbing using the aid of a machine

well, most people would say,
those are two different experiences

Or are they two different mountains?

—

If you enjoyed this piece, please consider supporting my work. 

I haven’t listened to a Moth story in a long time, but I somehow found out The Moth had a YouTube channel, and this was the first story I watched. This guy isn’t famous or anything, but I love this story, and his mom sounds like a real one. File under: Suprisingly Emotional Stories About Baseball. (video)

It’s a good question: Is it possible to buy a Bob Ross painting? I mean, it should be easy, shouldn’t it? But no, in fact it is not easy, and it is possible, and there’s a reason it’s difficult. But my favorite line from this whole article is from the gallery owner who finds Bob Ross paintings and buys them from the owners, who are mostly regular folks. He says, “Most families that have these paintings are not millionaires, and the money is very impactful in their lives.”

I don’t know if someone might say this is “political,” but I kind of assume that if you read this newsletter, you probably a) think public lands are a good idea and b) would be opposed to selling them. I won’t type out the details in my own words, but the sale of public lands is essentially back on the table, and you can call your senators and encourage them to not support it. If you have never done this before, 5Calls makes it super-easy (here’s a link to their page on this specific issue: Oppose the Sale of Public Lands in the “One Big Beautiful Bill” Act). If you are hesitant or nervous about calling and talking to a staffer or leaving a message, here’s basically what the conversation is like when I’ve done it:

STAFFER: Senator _______’s office, this is _____.
ME: Hi, I’m a constituent and I’d like to leave a comment. Do you need my address?
STAFFER: Yes.
ME: My address is [street address, city, state, ZIP code].
STAFFER: OK, thank you, what’s your comment?
ME: I’d like to encourage Senator _______ to [oppose H.R. 1, the budget reconciliation bill, and any provisions that authorize the sale of our public lands].
STAFFER: OK, anything else?
ME: That’s all, thank you.
STAFFER: Thank you.

I don’t know how I found the Why Cheap Art Manifesto this week, but something about the typeface and the style and the very simple message of it really hit home for me, and perhaps it will hit home for you too. If you are really into it, there’s a link at the bottom where you can purchase a print of it, which, at $20, I guess is technically cheap art, which is very meta, to support artists by buying a print of a manifesto about cheap art. But of course you can just read and enjoy it for free, too.

I made a pie chart graphic for newsletter sponsor Precision Fuel & Hydration this past week titled “What’s In Your Water Bottle(s)?” and one of the pie chart slices was “stachybotrys chartarum (black mold).” Which reminded me of a trick I learned to keep black mold from growing in water bottles: Store them in the freezer. I’ve been using this method for years now, and I think it’s even more important considering the amount of PFH’s Carb & Electrolyte Drink Mix I am putting in them on a weekly basis. I get home from my run, rinse out my bottles with water, and chuck them in the freezer, and voila, no mold. (If you are interested in trying PFH drink mix, here’s a link that will give you 15% off your first order)

If you are a fan of Bruce Springsteen, or a fan of Jeremy Allen White, and/or a fan of music biopics, you might be excited about the trailer for Springsteen: Deliver Me From Nowhere, which just dropped on Wednesday.

I was talking to Mike Sowden last week (on a video call, since he’s in Scotland and I am in Montana), and I have no idea what led to this, but he told me about being obsessed as a kid with the Terran Trade Authority Handbooks, and the way he described them lit up some sort of nostalgia center in my brain and took me back to the library in southwest Iowa where I’d flip through books with illustrations of spaceships, tanks, cars, bridges, whatever, and within a couple hours of getting off the call, Mike sent me this link to a scan of the Terran Trade Authority Handbook SPACECRAFT 2000 To 2100 AD book. Maybe you might enjoy it too. Maybe you, like me, will track down a used copy of the book on a website somewhere and spend $45 of your hard-earned money to own a paperback copy of it (or maybe you’re smarter/less emotional with money than I am?).

This is a very short, very simple essay about how human beings maybe don’t need to be just one thing, and I think it hit home for me because I see a lot of media about “your personal brand,” and I admittedly haven’t worked too hard on that kind of stuff, but if I had to design a business card about my personal brand, I think it might look a lot like the business card in the photo at the top of this essay, and I’m guessing yours would too.

When I put together this newsletter, I try hard to make sure it is not all links to 3,000-word essays on Substack, and does include some stuff you can digest in a minute or two, which I think is necessary in life, even if it doesn’t make us feel smarter. With that, I would like to present this 87-second video this guy made using various martial art techniques  to close a refrigerator.

Perhaps you read this newsletter last week and read that we’re putting my “What Does Your Urine Say About You?” chart on a limited-run Nalgene water bottle? You still have a few more days to order one as a helpful reminder to stay hydrated, for yourself or for someone you know and/or love. They’re available for pre-order through this link in my online DFTBA shop. I put together this fun short video using the sample bottle we made, and the full chart is below the video.

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IMPORTANT FINAL REMINDER:

If you or someone you know/love would enjoy this water bottle because you/they struggle to stay hydrated (or just enjoy the chart on the bottle), we’re in the final days of the pre-order campaign. After June 30, you will no longer be able to purchase these bottles (even during the holiday shopping season, when you remember that you need to get a gift for your friend Jeff, who probably would have loved one of these). Here’s the link (you can also click on the photo below).

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I love these kinds of sports-adjacent stories, not necessarily about the usual sports topics we think about, or necessarily about the players and/or coaches—but this guy, who got really, really good at getting on the Jumbotron at the Barclays Center, and how he cracked the code. (video)

I don’t know how this was done, but it’s super-cool—a guy mapped the geographic movements/migrations of more than 4,000 of his daughter’s ancestors, dating back to the 1600s, and put together this map animation. It’s such a cool visualization of how many lives and decisions were involved in one person being here now.

The folks at Injinji reached out a few weeks back, and asked if I was familiar with their socks. And of course I have been, since 2019, when I battled the most painful blisters of my life for the final 30+ miles of the Hellbender 100, and my friend Canyon said, “Yeah, you gotta get toe socks.” So I did, and I’ve been wearing them for long runs ever since, each of my toes happily in its own little compartment. Injinji is coming on as a sponsor of this newsletter, which is great because it’s a perfect fit, but also because if you’re reading this newsletter, this link will give you 20 percent off a purchase at Injinji.com if you order before midnight PST July 11. (I am a longtime fan of the Trail Midweight Crew, if you’re looking for a recommendation)

I am increasingly interested in the American loneliness epidemic, and maybe it’s not the most uplifting content, but The Pudding put together this short video breaking down the data of who Americans spend time with, and it hits pretty hard—I think in a way that inspires me to try to reach out and spend more time with friends in person. (video)

If you have ever seen Christoph Niemann’s art and design work, you will probably not be surprised at how interesting and accessible this interactive piece he put together about artists and AI for the New York Times is—the first time I read it, I scrolled through it on my phone, which honestly worked just as well as viewing it on my laptop. It really covers some ground. Here’s a gift link to see it. (thanks, Fitz)

I don’t surf, but I loved William Finnegan’s Pulitzer-winning surfing memoir, Barbarian Days, which I think will be a far different book than David Litt’s new memoir about learning to surf as an adult, It’s Only Drowning. I mean, when your book has blurbs by Laird Hamilton, Judd Apatow, and the former U.S. Treasury Secretary, it probably comes from a unique perspective. This excerpt of the book on LitHub did not disappoint.   

I missed this when it came out—just before Father’s Day—but I now wish I had seen it and sent it to everyone I know who’s a dad and would laugh at it by the time they read the fifth sentence. So I guess belated happy Father’s Day to you if you click on this McSweeney’s link: Congrats, Dipshit, You’re A Dad Now.

This is not something I’d say has, uh, depth? But it had me laughing within a second of reading it in the replies of this post on Bluesky, and then I realized I couldn’t share it with anyone who wasn’t on Bluesky, so I tracked down this 2022 tumblr post, which I’m not sure is the original, but at least it’s visible, and maybe you’ll giggle at it while reading “Donkin Dunnts: Amurica Runn No Dundun” like I did. (Also, if anyone knows the origin story of this graphic, please let me know)

Finally: If you read last week’s newsletter and called your senators to encourage them to oppose the selling off of public lands, thank you. If you’ve been following the news, you might know that the Senate parliamentarian rejected the plan to sell 3.3 million acres of public lands, which is great news. BUT, a new proposal to sell off 1.2 million acres of public land is now on the table, so, basically, we all have to call again. Here’s the link to the public lands budget reconciliation page on 5Calls.org, which makes it very easy to call your congressional representatives.

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NOTE: I’m publishing this week’s post on Thursday since this Friday is July 4th, and lots of people/Americans do other things on July 4th. Please feel free to read it on Thusrday, Friday, or whatever day suits your needs.

This is a bit longer than the videos I usually include here, but I got sucked into this guy’s adventure on “America’s Worst Rated Train,” and honestly, it delivered. About halfway through, I wasn’t sure it was good press for Amtrak, but by the end of the video, I thought, you know, yeah, maybe it is good press for Amtrak. Kind of. (Although I do think it’s a little strange that he says “There is one train route that exists all the way from Miami to Alaska,” when the final, quite significant, leg of the trip is quite obviously on a boat?) (video)

I don’t know how I found this essay on youth sports (and also about parenting and coaching), but I kept stopping while reading and going, “huh, yeah,” and wondering if over the past couple decades, we have been (at least partly unintentionally) making sports less and less fun for the kids who participate in them?

When I mention newsletter sponsor Precision Fuel & Hydration in these posts, it’s usually some sort of personal endorsement from me, a 46-year-old mid-pack ultrarunner dad, which I hope has some value (and authenticity). LIke hey, I’m a regular person training and running, and this stuff works for me, not just for super-athlete types who bound up mountains and barely break a sweat doing it. I was going to do that again this week, but then I saw the results for the Western States Endurance Run come in over the weekend, and realized that five of the top 10 men were sponsored by Precision Fuel & Hydration. (Including four of the top five, which included Missoula’s own Jeff Mogavero). So I guess take it from me, this stuff works for super-athletes too. Here’s a link to the PF 90 gels, a favorite product my both myself and Caleb Olson, who won Western States.

We are pretty lucky in Missoula to have a great local coffee roaster in Black Coffee, and maybe even luckier that Jim Chapman, one of the co-founders, is a creative guy who loves writing and photography. So when I get emails from Black Coffee (besides the ones that inform me my monthly coffee subscription just shipped), I usually open them. The most recent one—“My 5 Favorite Methods for Camp Coffee”—was an easy sell, too, because Jim knows a ton about coffee, and isn’t a snob when he discusses it (I appreciate that he includes instant coffee in his list, because in my opinion, there’s a place and time for it). Anyway, don’t take it from me, a mere coffee enthusiast—take it from someone who’s actually an expert on coffee, and camping.

I can’t even remember the first time I bought a pack of Field Notes pocket notebooks, but I vividly remember the 15 or so minutes I got to spend talking to Aaron Draplin at an event we did in Chicago in 2017. Being charismatic is one thing, and being down-to-earth and funny in tandem with being charismatic is a whole other thing. I have been rooting for Draplin for a very long time, and it’s really cool to see this article about the phenomenon that is Field Notes (as well as this link to a page showing part of Draplin’s vast collection of vintage pocket notebooks).

It’s crazy to think that it’s been 15 years (!) since The Social Network came out, and I can’t say I think the material for a sequel is exactly uplifting, I am cautiously optimistic that Aaron Sorkin will make another good movie (especially if he can convince Jesse Eisenberg to participate again?).

I’m not trying to put a link about AI in every issue of this newsletter, but I knew when John Oliver tackled the subject, it would at least be entertaining. And of course he went at it from an angle—only talking about AI slop, which, in the span of this 29-minute segment, had me laughing, a little sad, laughing, disappointed, laughing, a little angry, laughing, and then applauding at the end.

Because that’s how the PhotoshopRequests Subreddit works, you have to scroll through the replies here to see all the wacky edits people did to this photo of this guy tossing his baby in the air, but I think it’s pretty rewarding scrolling per centimeter of thumb travel.

Last weekend, I was in Wisconsin for my niece’s graduation party, and the morning of the party, I ran down the street from their house to a county park and ran three 1.05-mile loops around the road that circles the park before heading back to the house to pick up my nephew to run a couple more laps around the park with me. To my great surprise and mild entertainment, I got an email from Strava informing me that the first three laps had given me the “Local Legend” title for the most reps on that loop in a 90-day period. I have always found Strava’s Local Legend feature to be humorous, because I every time I’ve gotten a notification that I’ve become a Local Legend of something, it’s always some obscure short segment that I’ve never consciously tried to run a lot of reps of. And it’s usually called something like “Unnamed Rd Climb,” which for some reason is really popular in the Missoula area (and I guess a few other places). So, that’s a long story, but: We made a coffee mug. For me, I guess, and you, if you’ve ever been a Local Legend of Unnamed Rd Climb or something else obscure. OR, even better, if you’d like a gift for your spouse or friend or running partner who would get a good chuckle out of having a dubious honor displayed on a coffee mug. Here’s a photo, which you can click on for more information:

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As I slither out of my sleeping bag an hour after “quiet hours” began at the campground, creeping toward the door of the tent to go ask the people at the next campsite to maybe possibly keep it down, you know, if it’s not too much trouble, I think: this is going to go one of two ways. They’re going to say oops, sorry, we’ll quiet down, or I’m going to have to engage in hand-to-hand combat with up to five men (which will be quick and painful, for me). 

Nobody wants to be that person, the killjoy who walks over to a campsite of people having fun—loud fun—to remind them that this is actually not their backyard, this is a public campground, and other people might be trying to sleep right now. But in the past couple decades, I have been that guy many times. I have used various techniques, have not been physically assaulted or maimed (yet), and have sometimes even succeeded in gently nudging the loud folks to, in the words of Adam Mansbach, read by Samuel L. Jackson, Go the Fuck to Sleep. Here are a few strategies, rated for their effectiveness. 

Denial
You didn’t hear anything. You just woke up. It’s totally quiet out there.
Effectiveness: 2/10

Vigilance
You listen intently, as if a predator might be approaching your tent. You stop breathing. Was that a noise? A car door closing, a camper door slamming shut, someone laughing, someone playing … a flute … at 10 p.m.? Did you hear it again? Yes. Yes, you did. Goddammit.
Effectiveness: 0/10

Earplugs
You put earplugs in your ears. In my experience of working in a loud factory, earplugs are great at minimizing the hearing damage one might suffer working in loud environments where the sound level is pretty constantly uncomfortable, but in a place where relative quiet is abruptly punctured by a loud noise every few minutes, they can be hit or miss.
Effectiveness: Best-case, 10/10. Worst-case, 3/10. 

Gaslighting yourself
That guy’s laugh wasn’t that loud, was it? I mean, it might have just woken you up as you were drifting into sleep, but you’re probably just a bit sensitive. That thump every 20-30 seconds? It’s pretty muted, honestly, and 11 p.m. is a perfectly OK time to split firewood. You’re just being oversensitive.
Effectiveness: 0/10

Anger
This strategy involves getting so mad you could spit, or do spit, or imagine yourself forcefully silencing the loud people, or pouring corn syrup into the fuel tank of their generator that’s been running since 7 p.m., or hastily packing up your entire camp and driving home/somewhere else while shaking your head in disbelief. Not effective.
Effectiveness: -3/10

Not being mad, just being disappointed
As effective as this technique was when I was a teenager and my mom used it on me, it does not work to get people to be considerate of others’ experiences.
Effectiveness: 0/10

Deploying chemical agents that will render them unconscious
Actually haven’t tried this one, but have fantasized about it many times.
Effectiveness: Who’s to say, really. Definitely illegal though.

Complaining, in head
Effectiveness: 0/10

Complaining to tentmate(s)
Effectiveness: 0/10

Self-righteousness
Sure, you’re far from perfect, but you would never be an inconsiderate dickhead like those loud people are! I mean, the nerve. Don’t they realize there are other people here trying to enjoy the sounds of the breeze in the trees, or birdsong, and not a bunch of dipshits playing Wizard Staff and falling into the campfire? Oh, wait. You have been an inconsiderate dickhead, at least that one time. It was years ago, but still.
Effectiveness: 0/10

Approaching their campsite and politely asking them to quiet down
Awkward, really not enjoyable unless you happen to enjoy confrontation, but if you really believe someone has to do it, it might have to be you. You can accidentally shine your headlamp in everyone’s eyes on its brightest setting, but it’s not very diplomatic.
Effectiveness: anywhere from 0/10 to 10/10

Waiting for someone else to ask offending party to quiet down
True story, one time I was climbing at Red Rock Natural Conservation Area near Vegas and we camped there a couple nights, and there was absolutely no vegetation between campsites, so sound traveled pretty far. At like 1:30 a.m., I woke up to someone’s dog barking for a few seconds, maybe at a coyote or something. The dog kept barking, kept barking, kept barking, for a couple minutes. I sighed, resigned to the fact that I was going to have to get out of my sleeping bag, unzip the tent door, walk over there and … suddenly, I heard someone from another campsite scream, “SHUT THAT FUCKING DOG UUUUUUUUUUUUUPPPPPP!!!!!!” Seconds later, the dog stopped barking. I rolled over and went back to sleep.
Effectiveness: In the above story, 10/10, but results vary per situation. 

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I am a big fan of Luke Nelson, who is a dad, husband, physician’s assistant, sponsored trail runner, ski patroller, race director, and just a swell guy in general. I remember seeing his “Pocatello Round” come through my Strava feed in the summer of 2024, and thinking, “Well, of course he did that.” Luke dreamed up a 72-mile route around his hometown of Pocatello, Idaho, and ran it with friends, and this short film documents the effort and people that made it possible. (video)

(Also, here’s the Strava map and details of his run, if you’re interested in seeing what it looks like on a map)

The Hardrock Endurance Run starts about an hour after this newsletter publishes on July 11 (6 a.m. Mountain Time), and I wanted to share a couple relevant links—one is the interview Zoë Rom and I did with Katie Schide, the UTMB and Western States Endurance Run champion who is definitely favored to do well at Hardrock. We talked a little bit about her college job hauling giant pack loads up trails to the White Mountain huts in New Hampshire, how she has trained for Hardrock by spending time in Leadville, Ouray, and Silverton, and her PhD thesis. Here’s a link to listen on Apple Podcasts, and here’s a link to listen on Spotify.

Second: I loved this preview of Hardrock from longtime runner and writer Sarah Lavender Smith, who finally got into Hardrock this year in her mid-50s. It’s a great breakdown of how she’s prepared, what she’s expecting, and how she feels about running the race in her mid-50s as opposed to her mid-40s. If you’re following the race and want to root for someone, you can root for Sarah—and/or some of the other Hardrock women competitors in their 60s she lists in her Substack piece.

It’s sunny here in Western Montana right now, and f I am not wearing a sun hoody on my trail runs, I have been wearing the new Trekker Snappy Shirt from newsletter sponsor Janji. The high collar is great for covering the back of my neck on days when putting up a full hood is just too hot for me. The shirt is 10% off in the two remaining colors (I am a fan of the Reverse Paisley because I think it’s fun and also hopefully doesn’t show stains as much?). It’s listed as a “men’s” product but as you can see in the pics, it’s not necessarily just for men. And of course you could wear it for things other than running.

I wouldn’t say I’m much of a horror fan—I can’t say the last time I watched scary movie, and I’ve read very few horror books. But I am Patreon pen pals with Wendy Wagner, and got to chat with her at my Portland book event last May, so when I heard she had a new book coming out, I thought, “Wendy’s so nice! Maybe I should broaden my horizons.” She was kind enough to send me an advance copy of Girl in the Creek, and I am pleased to report that it was a fun, engaging read that didn’t give me nightmares. As I said, I don’t know anything about the horror genre, but if you had told me Wendy’s book was classified as something like “supernatural murder mystery,” I would say that sounds accurate too. It’s set in a fictional small town on the slopes of Mount Hood, and if you’re interested, here’s the link to the publisher’s page. If you’d like to support a local bookstore, here’s an affiliate link to the Bookshop page.

I have to agree with this sentiment, but I also don’t think I need AI to do my laundry and dishes, since I get a lot of good thinking done while hanging laundry and doing dishes.

I think I might have shared something about this a few months ago when I first heard about it, but Mustard, who was arguably made even more famous when Kendrick Lamar yelled his name during TV Off (and even more during the Super Bowl performance), now has a mustard collaboration with Heinz—Chipotle Honey Mustaaaaaard. (I have no financial interest or otherwise in this venture—I just think it’s entertaining. Also, did they argue about how many As they wanted to put in the name? “6!” “No, 5!”)

Why are frogs in kids’ books usually male? The Pudding did an amazing analysis of children’s books, and which animals we tend to characterize as male, and which animals we tend to characterize as female (including an experiment in which they asked 1,300 participants to finish a story that begins, “And then the bear said, ‘I must go to the river.’ Upon arriving…” to see which gender the participants assigned the bear.

Also, if you missed it last week, this is an actual coffee mug we just started making (clicking the link will take you to the shop page for the mug):

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