This photo of me, running to the finish line of a race with my toddler, Jay, was about 45 seconds away from not happening at all:

Hilary had woken Jay up from his nap, driven an hour and a half from Lake Hawea to the finish line parking area, scooped Jay out of the car, hustled him and his strider bike to the finishing corral, and gotten there just in time to see me about 150 feet away, jogging toward the finish alongside a guy named Kyle, scanning the fence line for her and Jay. I saw them, slowed and stopped, engaged my core, and grabbed our 30-pound, bike-helmeted kid from Hilary as she lifted him over the fence, set him down and we ran across the finish line together. 

In an alternate scenario, I might have ignored my wife and son in narrowed vision tunneling to the finish, downshifted, gritted my teeth, and sprinted next to Kyle, racing him the final couple hundred feet through the red arch, in a battle for 85th place. That might have come as a surprise to Kyle, as we’d run together off and on for the final six or so miles, chatting and jogging fairly casually. 

Of course, that didn’t happen—Kyle ran to the timing mat, jumped in the air to click his heels for the camera, and crossed the mat 16 seconds ahead of Jay and me, finishing 85th. 

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Years ago, I was listening to a podcast with a runner who was also a race director. I don’t remember anything about the interview with this person, except the part where they made fun of people who held hands with someone while crossing the finish line—a spouse, pacer, a fellow runner. At the time, I remember thinking, Huh, weird hill to die on, especially if you’re a race director. 

I had recently finished a race while holding hands with my wife, who had patiently paced me the final 30 miles of an extremely painful 100-mile race. As we approached the finish arch, I remember feeling that there was no way I would have made it to the end of the race without her. 

Maybe I also remembered that Kilian Jornet, arguably the greatest ultrarunner of a generation (if not all time), had finished the 2016 Hardrock Endurance Run while holding hands with Jason Schlarb. And that was a race he could have won. But, he said, “It’s logical…not to make a sprint to finish one minute ahead.”

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I have, like everyone else, put the hammer down (as much as I could, anyway) to run hard in the final mile of a long race, taking long strides to sprint (OK, kind of sprint) across the finish, even if I’ve been barely jogging, not-so-powerfully power-hiking, or hobbling for the previous five or 10 miles. That is also not logical, and yet I have done it. It was how I felt like showing up, at the time. 

If you have also done this, a pace chart of your race might look something like this: 

I don’t know what other people think about in their low moments when they’re pushing themselves out on on a race course or in the backcountry, but I would guess I’m not alone in a) wondering why I make myself do hard things in the middle of nowhere b) thinking about my home, which is to say my family, and sometimes my bed at home. It’s a privilege to go out and voluntarily seek adversity in nature, and when I find that adversity, it reminds me to be grateful for what I have.

Running is who I am for most of the day on race day. And in a typical week, it’s who I am for about 6-8 hours. But I’m a lot of other things all the time. 

I have told people that the UTMB finish line in Chamonix is probably the best finish line in sports. This is not because it has some 100-plus-year tradition (like the Boston Marathon), or because the greatest elite runners in the sport routinely battle it out in the final 100 meters to determine who will be that year’s champion. It is because you get to watch people from all over the world feeling whatever emotions they feel at the end of a 103-mile odyssey around Mont Blanc. Plus, they can run through the finish corral with their pacer, spouse, kids, dog, whoever they want. Some sprint, some walk, but they all cross the timing mat, and complete one of the biggest efforts of their lives. 

But a finish line, whether it’s the UTMB, or the terminus of the Appalachian Trail, or a local 5K race, can represent one of the biggest efforts of somebody’s life. And no matter how we show up there, in a sprint that threatens to explode our quads, or hobbling next to a friend cajoling us to go a few more steps, or carrying a kid who maybe doesn’t understand what Mom or Dad just did to get to this point, aren’t we really just trying to say, 

I’m 

So 

Happy 

I 

Could 

Be Here 

Right Now? 

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

Today is the last day to sign up for my How To Tell One Story online writing course! As of my typing this (Thursday afternoon), we still had eight spots available. Since I kind of messed up a funny video promotion I did for it on Instagram that had a discount code on it (long story), it’s $199 for everyone instead of $249. But, again, today is the last day to sign up, and the spots are filling. Here’s the link for more info. (We’ll open up another 25 spots the week of October 3-10).

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As a huge fan of independent movie theaters, I really enjoyed this breakdown of how they make it work financially—although no one featured in the video mentioned memberships, which our local indie theater uses to keep the lights on (I am of course a member). (video)

Great headline on this short piece from Steve Magness and Brad Stulberg’s newsletter: “The Most Underrated Performance Enhancer: Having Fun,” which is in the same vein of something I’ve told a lot of people when they mention the idea of starting writing a newsletter: have fun with it, or you’ll find yourself abandoning it because it feels like work. I believe Steve and Brad are writing more about success/winning, but I think we’re on the same wavelength (isn’t fun its own kind of success?).

I follow the PerfectFit subreddit, and it’s usually just mildly satisfying stuff that happens to fit together, but this photo delivers a whole story, and you can just imagine the relief: A woman lost her engagement ring on a cross country trip, found a month later in husband’s deodorant

I am sure there is more to this story of the late musician and Harvard mathematician Tom Lehrer writing a letter to representatives for 2 Chainz in reply to their request for his permission to sample his song “The Old Dope Peddler,” but I think the writing itself is just *chef’s kiss*.

This is maybe not “inspirational” in the typical mostly-positive sense this newsletter usually embraces, but I have been thinking about it since I watched and saved it on Tuesday—I sometimes wonder if in 10 years, we’ll have retreated more into digital living, or if we’ll collectively say, “wow, this kind of sucks,” and rebel against it, doing more things in the “real world.”

Sometimes I look at certain pieces of art and wonder if they’d be as well-known if they were, you know, smaller—like Picasso’s Guernica, but 11 inches by 25 inches, instead of 11 feet by 25 feet. I’m not saying this hyper-realistic pigeon on NYC’s High Line is Guernica, but it is huge. (via Kottke)

The morning of my friend Nick Triolo’s book launch party at the library in Missoula a few weeks back, I invited him to join me on one of my twice-weekly runs on Mount Sentinel, since he hadn’t been in town for a while and we were due for a catchup. I of course totally forgot that a) his new book, The Way Around, was about circumambulation, which is kind of the opposite of summiting a peak, and b) my regular run route goes to the summit of Mount Sentinel. I of course remembered during the Q&A when he mentioned it in a sort of “hey, nothing against peak bagging” joke. We had interviewed him a few weeks prior for The Trailhead podcast, in which we talked about his book, and his 30-plus-race-finish ultrarunning career. Links to listen here:
Apple Podcasts | Spotify

Speaking of the Trailhead podcast, if you’ve been listening the past few months and would like to help us out by taking a quick 2-minute survey and share your opinions and/or recommendations, here’s a link to it.

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Did you know that you can respond to this newsletter (or recommend something for next week’s Friday Inspiration) by clicking “reply”? It’s true. I love getting replies, and I am able to read them all, and try to respond to them (but sometimes I can’t, which is a bummer, so thanks for understanding). (If you received this email from a friend, and would like to subscribe, please click here.)

I had a lot of fun figuring out how to make this 2-minute YouTube video about “the creative process,” which involved a) digging an actual hole, b) rigging a ring light in our shower just to shoot 10-seconds of GoPro footage of my feet, and c) spending way too long hand-writing all the subtitles. But I hope it hits home. (video)

 I was talking to a friend the other day about writers who can create great writing out of the smallest events. I was thinking of Bill Bryson, in one of my favorite passages he wrote, where he’s on a road trip, staying in a hotel in a small town in South Dakota (I think?) and he makes this incredibly funny essay about all the restaurants in town being closed, as well as the hotel dining room being closed for some private event, and he ends up just buying a bunch of candy bars from a vending machine and eating them on the hotel bed. And then yesterday I read this essay on Substack, about a barista writing someone’s name on a coffee cup, and the reaction the writer had, and it’s the same exact skill. So, my hat is off to Michelle? for this one. (Also, this video was mentioned in the comments, and I somehow had never seen it before.)

My friend Ed sent me this short blog from Seth Godin, Scarcity and Abundance, and it partly captures something I have been thinking about often, which is a mindset of scarcity vs. a mindset of abundance, and how much more I gravitate toward other people who believe they can “win” without other people having to “lose”—and of course, vice versa, how I’d rather just avoid people who think the only way they can be happy is if they somehow “beat” other people. And how we should all think about that sort of thing more (especially when driving automobiles?).

I am starting to make a packing list for a bigger adventure I’ll mention here in a few weeks (and in my next update for Patreon supporters), but I am psyched to be going somewhere I hope to have to pack a layer or two, including this 4.4-ounce wind jacket from newsletter sponsor Janji that I have scarcely worn all summer but am excited to potentially pull out of my vest when a cool mountain breeze picks up, fingers crossed. (Here’s a link the women’s fit version)

A while back, I started looking more and more to Reddit for interesting things to include in this newsletter, and I am not sure why I like it so much more than social media—maybe it feels more likely that I’m goign to find weird stuff, instead of things the algorithm(s) decide are successful? Anyway, it seems like every few weeks I find a new subreddit that I think is hilarious, and I can’t believe this is the first time I’ve encountered the WhyWomenLiveLonger subreddit, which appears to be mostly comprised of videos of men doing dumb things (which seem like they must quite often end in personal injury), but also this screenshot of a post that I think is hilarious, and doesn’t need a trigger warning.

Maybe you’re not in the space today that you want to look at a bunch of breathtaking astronomy photos in the shortlist of the Astronomy Photographer of the Year competition, but I’m going to share the link here and mention that a) experiencing awe is good for you, b) the universe is incredible, and c) people who have mastered their craft to the extent that they can photograph things like comets, blood moons, and solar eruptions are inspiring.

I am not a running streak person, but I’m impressed by people who are, and even if I wasn’t, I think I’d have to admit that the presentation of the data of this person’s 10-plus-year running streak is kind of amazing.

Is this level of research about the best way to dice an onion necessary? It is absolutely not, but I love it when people go this hard on math and science for something as non-essential as dicing an onion, and then put some love into the presentation of it.

Finally, I posted these two poems to my Strava a few days apart, then realized that together they kind of made a fun little saga, so I created some image slides to put on Instagram. I thought I’d include them here, just in case you’d like to read about my attempt to get rid of an old radiator that had been partially buried in my backyard (which is the kind of content I assume everyone needs nowadays).

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If you enjoyed this piece, please consider helping keep the lights on around here by supporting my work. 

I saw this video somewhere on Reddit a few weeks ago and would have shared it here but I couldn’t verify that these folks actually went and retrieved the tire afterward—but it appears they answered that question in the comments on YouTube, so please enjoy this very satisfying three minutes. (thanks, Hannah and Dan) (video)

Hilary is a huge fan of Blackbird Spyplane, and I am a fan of the writing voice and general presence, although I am not as regular a reader as she is since it’s more about fashion. But this piece from two years ago, The End of Cool Small Cars, really resonated with me, as the owner of a 1979 Toyota Pickup and a person who has tremendous nostalgia for the old Chevy S10s and Ford Rangers of the late 1980s and early 1990s (not to mention my piece-of-shit two-door manual transmission Pontiac Sunbird). Especially this line:  “We can of course sense that, whereas road trips do rock, when it comes to daily commutes, etc., cars are prison cells masquerading as tickets to freedom.”

I am very susceptible to the formula of “Topic X written in the voice of a famous author,” and this piece, which published the same day Dune: Part Two was released, is right up my alley (and I don’t think you need to be that familiar with Bukowski’s work to enjoy it?): Charles Bukowski’s Dune

This is the third month of Injinji sponsoring this newsletter, and I am thankful for their financial support, but more than that, I am grateful for the many pairs of toe socks they sent me, which I have now subbed into my regular running sock rotation, which has increased morale on my long runs as much as a pair of socks can. The most recent addition was the tie-dye Courtney Crew socks designed by ultrarunning GOAT Courtney Dauwalter herself, who will be running UTMB starting next Friday and looking for her fourth win there. As far as these socks go, my thinking is, good enough for the GOAT, good enough for me. Here’s a link to the socks, and the code SEMIRADUTMB will get you 20% off all Injinji toesocks through September 5th.

I love artist Mike Monteiro’s newsletter—in every post, he answers a question from a reader, in an essay, and I don’t read every post, but for whatever reason last week, the subject line “How to Stay Hopeful” grabbed me. And I was delighted to find that his answer had a lot to do with walking, bikes, neighbors, and cities.

This is a long read, but I found it incredibly thoughtful, interesting, and insightful: Piers Gelly, an English professor at the University of Virginia, designed a course around the using AI to write, let his students decide and debate whether to use it in class, and to also decide if they’d rather learn from an actual human-taught class or by AI. A couple of the quotes from the piece that really hit home:

“We depend on a calculator to produce identical results no matter who uses it, but identical results in a writing context are boring at best.”

“ … because it’s exhausting to give a shit. My point wasn’t that they should give a shit, only that they could. The choice was theirs, as always.”

—Piers Gelly, What Happened When I Tried to Replace Myself with ChatGPT in My English Classroom

The point of the DiWHY subreddit, you might assume, is to question why (some) people would spend time creating things that are (maybe subjectively) ridiculous, but I’d argue that all creative works could be viewed as ridiculous, and certainly a ridiculous way to spend one’s time. But come on, look at these customizable ripped jeans and tell me they were a waste of anyone’s time.

I believe I found Matthew M. Evans’ Fog Chaser substack a few weeks ago through a post by my friend Anna Brones, and I was just thinking about how much I liked the last song he’d put out, when I saw the new one from last week, and the story behind it: night sketch (for jd)

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I kind of think this idea—having kids dream up fairytale characters and then having those characters professionally designed—should happen more often? (video)

We are hopefully getting toward the end of fire season here soon-ish in the western U.S., but I thought it might be useful to share the app I use to track wildfires around Missoula during the summer and early fall. I’m sure many people have heard of it, but Watch Duty is a free app (which you can support for $25/year or even more if you want Pro features) and it is so far my favorite app for seeing fire info as soon as it’s available.

I got stung by a bee three times a couple weekends ago, which led to me doing some research on newsletter sponsor Precision Fuel & Hydration’s website (seems unrelated, but stay with me): I was thinking back to the last time I got stung by a bee, the first day of a backpacking trip in the Sierras in August 2008, and I remembered that I also had woken up with a splitting headache that morning. I was concerned about altitude sickness, so I’d bought a gallon jug of water to drink on the long drive to the trailhead from the Bay Area, and as I maybe suspected but hadn’t confirmed, that was not the correct strategy. I read this piece, How to START hydrated and why that’s so important, and now realize I probably drank myself into some mild hyponatremia. I was fine, but I would have rather not had the headache, if I’d known better. Anyway, within the PFH article are guidelines for pre-hydrating (with proper amounts of sodium, thanks to research, including some NASA research), and if you shop at the PFH site through that link, you will get 25% off your first order.

This is so cool—this photographer used Google Street View to locate 250+ signs hand painted around Detroit by Ron Miller of Ron Signs, who has been doing it since 1978, still doesn’t have a website or email address, and works entirely by word of mouth around the city. (Here’s a page on Andrew’s website for better viewing, and here’s the post he put on his Instagram)

I have not eaten many Taco Bell Crunchwrap Supremes, but I do kind of love how it’s influenced chefs at non-fast-food restaurants to create their own version of the dish. As Eater writer Khushbu Shah puts it: “Trends tend to trickle down from fine dining to fast food  … the Crunchwrap Supreme is one of the few, rare examples where a trend traveled the other way, working its way, over the past 20 years, to the menus of beloved independent restaurants.”

I don’t know how these bumper stickers about Tacoma ended up in my feed, but I particularly love the “TACOMA: Come for the rain, stay because your car got stolen” one, as well as some of the more r-rated ones.

I am not trying openly hate on AI (although I am a little weary of hearing about it so much for the past couple years), but as an avid em dash user, I did take it kind of personally when I found out people were saying that usage of em dashes was a sure sign something was written by AI. I have no authority to say that’s bullshit, but I have to say this essay by Brian Phillips warmed my little em dash-loving heart: Stop AI-Shaming Our Precious, Kindly Em Dashes—Please

There’s a really great bit about the carnival vs. the circus in this piece Marty Brodsky wrote about going to the county fair, and I’d just excerpt it here but I think you’ll be way happier if you just read the whole piece instead. Also, semi-related, since Marty talks about the demolition derby at the beginning of the piece: My friend Nick’s uncle won two different demolition derbies in northwest Iowa back in the day with the same car. Consider that for a minute—not that the car actually survived one demolition derby and was still drivable afterward, but that he WON both of them.

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I’m walking my kid to the library in Chamonix, holding hands, or rather, he’s holding my middle finger in his hand. 

I get a tug on my finger every few steps, because he’s looking down as he jumps from seam to seam on the sidewalk, and I am looking up at the Aiguille du Dru, one of the six classic north faces of the Alps, 850 meters of steep granite, trying to remember the history of climbing routes on it. 

It’s almost a mile and a half straight up from where we’re shuffling along, on our stroll to the library, where I hope to find some puzzles and toys to entertain Jay. Jay is three years old, and doesn’t care about mountains as much as his dad does, or really, much at all, which is pretty normal for a three-year-old, I imagine.

I brought him here because I wanted his mom to see this place, because like me, she loves mountains, and Mont Blanc is a pretty good one, as far as mountains go. Someone said in conversation yesterday that there’s no other town on earth that’s this close to a mountain this high and this steep, and that seems legitimate, I think, standing here looking up at it.  

At this moment, as Jay and I walk through Chamonix, thousands of people are running around Mont Blanc, or will soon be, in one of the UTMB races. This is something that 3-year-old Jay can’t really conceptualize—all he knows is that there are a lot of people here, everywhere. And that we are letting him eat a lot of croissants. 

I might call his perspective naive, but I also I understand it, and even sometimes share it, because part of me realizes the ridiculousness of the whole thing—ascending and descending for hours without sleep, pushing yourself to your physical limit, training for months or years to run while you’re not being chased by anything. But another part of me, the part that loves mountains, thinks it’s one of the coolest things you can do in your life, if you’re able and have the means to do it. 

One time I asked my friend Gregory to tell me what bicycles meant to him, because I was making a film about the bike shop he started. I was hoping to get some sort of soulful quote from him since he was a true believer in bicycles, having raised two kids as a car-less family, riding rain or shine. 

So, with the camera pointed at him, I asked, what does bicycling mean to you? and he said, “It’s a way to get from Point A to Point B that’s faster than walking.” 

This was not at all what I was expecting, but I had to admit that what he said was inarguable. 

I look up at mountains sometimes and I know they’re just folds of the earth—places where things crashed together, or a volcano erupted, or whatever geologic event happened. Sometimes I can be as reductive as Gregory and admit that yeah, that mountain over there is, really, just a place where the ground is higher than it is here. 

But I can’t really square the time I’ve spent in the mountains with the reductive definition of them: they’re just another landform.

But still, my toddler doesn’t get it. And with a full day to solo parent him a few days later, I pushed him in a stroller over to the kids’ amusement park here. In full view of the snowy summit of Mont Blanc, I shelled out way too many euros, feeling maybe a tiny bit guilty or at least a bit self-conscious, so he could operate a kids’ excavator, a crane, a digger, drive go-karts, ride on tiny trains, and squeal with delight on the alpine slide.

I never understood why these types of businesses seem to exist adjacent to places of natural beauty, like in national park gateway towns in the United States. And of course I get it now, now that I have a toddler to entertain: Mountains are beautiful, sure—plenty of adults would agree, and maybe plenty of kids too. 

But the beauty alone doesn’t really set the hook in you, not like it has with me, and my friends, and the mountain folks I know, and the people running these races.

The kind of hook that pulls you to rearrange some or all of your life so you can spend more time in the mountains, on trails, on summits, trying to capture whatever magic it is you think is up there, or out there.

That, I believe, requires a story, or stories, about the mountains or about the people who come here to discover something. And I think you might need to be a little bit older than three for those stories to resonate with whatever part of you needs them, or to fit in you like a key in an ignition, turn and fire up your engine. 

We watched a few minutes of the golden hour of UTMB on Sunday, the final 60 minutes as people ran, trudged, limped, through Chamonix toward the finish arch, every one of them (hopefully) believing it was worth it. I didn’t know any of them, but I’m sure every single one of them heard about this race somehow, in the form of some story, somewhere, and the hook set in them. You don’t spend 46 hours through the dark of two nights, in the rain and cold, grinding it out, up and down, up and down, by accident. Every one of those people had been on a journey.

Jay sat on my shoulders for a few minutes, not very interested, while I tried to soak up as much of the human experiences as we could see in a handful of minutes, the crowd cheering everyone on, regardless of where the runners were from, what language they spoke, whether they were moving well or looked like they were near death. 

I don’t know if Jay will remember any of this, the runners digging deep, the cheers and the cowbells, or the view of the Bossons Glacier and the summit of Mont Blanc backdropping downtown and the whole scene. I’m trying to not push anything on him, or assume he’ll love the same things I love, and want to do the same things I love to do. 

But standing there in the sunshine, with him on my shoulders, I thought: I hope you like mountains when you grow up, but I don’t hope that hard, honestly. I hope you find something that fires you up, something that you tell stories about, something that means as much to you as the mountains mean to your dad. 

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

Well, today is the 500th edition of this Friday Inspiration newsletter. Aside from a couple of short breaks (one for some time off in 2021 and the other for the first few weeks of Jay’s life back in 2022), I’ve been doing this every week since November 20, 2015. Which is a long time. If you open this email every week or every once in a while, thanks for reading. If you are supporting this whole operation via Patreon or a paid subscription, thank you again for your support—if it weren’t for you, I’d quit, because, well, bills.

If you’ve always wondered what it’s like to feel the satisfaction of helping keep independent art alive and also would like to hear what’s going on behind the scenes, here’s a link to my Patreon, where you can support for a couple bucks a month. I might be so bold as to say that the writing publication of 500 of these things is a pretty good sign I’ll show up next week, and the week after that, and so on.

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I was listening to this live set from Fred again.. and this really catchy bit caught my ear, maybe even sounded familiar, so I looked it up and it turns out it was Fred remixing a tune by one of my favorite artists, Valerie June. Here’s a link to the song, and here’s the full set (video):

There are multiple things that just dropped my jaw when I listened to this really brief Atlas Obscura podcast about The Earth Room. For example: a) an artist put 280,000 pounds of dirt in a 3600-square-foot apartment, b) the apartment is in Soho, meaning its real estate value is in the millions, c) it’s been there since 1977, and d) that I had never heard of it before. (If you’re not able to listen to the podcast, the transcript is a good quick read.) Oh, and you can visit The Earth Room—here’s the info.

Austin Kleon shared this link to a clip of photographer Noah Kalina calling his dad—who is a psychologist—and asking him (as a psychologist) about ups and downs in creative energy/creative blocks/creative burnout, and I have to admit, it hits home for me. On one hand, I’ve always been a big fan of the Lorne Michaels quote about Saturday Night Live, that “The show doesn’t go on because it’s ready; it goes on because it’s 11:30.” On the other hand, I have definitely forced it before, and have had a lot of weeks in the past few months that felt like a lot of work to get something decent out there. (Here’s a link to the full 11-minute video.)

These shots are incredible, but I think made even better when you know a bit of the story of how long these photographers waited/planned/did math so they could get the shot. It would be really interesting to hear what they said about how they felt when they finally got these shots, and how they dealt with finally getting something they obsessed over for years.

Based on the title (“Always read carefully”) you might kind of know what’s coming by the time you’re about 10 seconds into this clip, but this podcaster’s co-hosts’ laugher really brings it home in that sort of “we are very comfortable busting your chops and sometimes we don’t even need to say anything when you self-own this effectively.” (From the Contagious Laughter subreddit)

We interviewed runner and writer Sarah Lavender Smith on The Trailhead podcast a couple weeks ago, and it was such a blast for me to hear from a real person in their mid-50s who recently struggled to get through the Hardrock Endurance Run when things didn’t go her way at all. It was also a blast to read some of Sarah’s writing about the race back to her on the podcast—including the passage about vomiting fire. If you’d like to give it a listen, here are the links:
Apple Podcasts | Spotify

Only somewhat related: Sarah also recently posted on Substack a link to a New York Times piece about “men leaving fiction reading behind,” and asked if any men who followed her were still reading fiction. I didn’t read the article, but I of course was in the middle of reading a fiction book at that point and said so. Then I looked back and realized I’ve read quite a bit of fiction this year, so I thought I’d share the titles here.

The Ministry for the Future by Kim Stanley Robinson
Publisher’s page | Bookshop

The Boy, the Mole, the Fox and the Horse by Charlie Mackesy
Publisher’s page | Bookshop

Orbital by Samantha Harvey
Publisher’s page | Bookshop

Lonesome Dove by Larry McMurtry
Publisher’s page | Bookshop

Girl in the Creek by Wendy N. Wagner
Publisher’s page | Bookshop

Before the Coffee Gets Cold by Toshikazu Kawaguchi
Publisher’s page | Bookshop

Dear Committee Members by Julie Schumacher
Publisher’s page | Bookshop

Wide Sargasso Sea by Jean Rhys
Publisher’s page | Bookshop

Parade by Rachel Cusk
Publisher’s page | Bookshop

The First Bad Man by Miranda July
Publisher’s page | Bookshop

The Dispossessed: An Ambigiuous Utopia by Ursula K. LeGuin
Publisher’s page | Bookshop

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I have enjoyed many of Arthur Brooks’ columns for The Atlantic over the years, so I wasn’t surprised that this video, “You Need to Be Bored. Here’s Why.” hit home for me as well. Sometimes I wonder if we’re all keeping ourselves so “busy” with everything that we don’t have time to feel anything anymore—boredom included, but also other things. (video)

I don’t know who the market is for this app, or if the market actually exists, but I love that this person created it: A Chrome extension that adds dust to your browser tabs the longer you’ve had them open, starting at about 3 hours.

Hilary shared this Substack piece with me and although I don’t see myself in everything the author says about running culture and numbers contests, I definitely agree we could all use a reminder about perspective—like I know a lot of people who run very long distances in the mountains, but I am also very aware that everyone at the starting line of an ultramarathon is probably the “weird runner person” in their family/office/neighborhood. I loved this bit: “That’s why I say: think of 2K like 20K. A small run after a workday is already a victory. Getting yourself moving, even briefly, is a powerful act in a daily life that already exhausts us.”

True story: One time when I was living in my van, I met up with my friend Mauricio one morning to scramble up the Third Flatiron in Boulder, carrying a harness and a small tagline to rappel off the top when we were done. We hiked in, climbed the easy route to the summit, and only when I opened my pack to pull out the harness and rope did I realize that I’d carried my MacBook Pro in the backpack’s laptop sleeve the entire time. This incident was the first thing I thought of when newsletter sponsor Janji sent me their new Revy Pack, an 18-liter backpack designed for running, and also run commuting (you can slide either a 15″ laptop or a 2-liter hydration reservoir in its separated compartment). I have not put a huge amount of weight in it so far, but I have run with a laptop, rain jacket, and water bottles in it, and I have to say, I’ve been liking it.

My friend Jason Tyler Burton is releasing a new album, and his Kickstarter went live for it last week. You might be into it if you like Jason Isbell and/or John Prine—here’s his Bandcamp page for a sample of his work, and here’s one of my favorite (older) songs of his, which I think he put out a year or two before I first met him and his wife Jenn, in Springdale, Utah, more than a decade ago: A Garden Grows. (Funny story: Hilary and I asked Jason if he’d play guitar at our wedding + wedding reception, very chill, just whatever he felt like, but we asked him to cover one song, which he had to learn, Nick Jaina’s Sebastapol, and play it as Hilary and I walked down the “aisle” after the ceremony. For whatever reason, I basically have zero memory of him playing that song, and I don’t think any video recording of it exists, but I’m sure it sounded amazing. )

Mike Sowden, in this piece, delivers a clinic on how to follow your curiosity to create something really interesting. He goes from this sentence: “Unfortunately I have no idea how birds work.” To: “In fact, as my research in a local library uncovered that afternoon, birds are supremely useful to long-distance walkers. Here are four ways how.” And then, guess what, four really cool things about birds!  I remain a huge fan.

We interviewed Denverite and ultrarunner Junko Kazukawa on The Trailhead a couple weeks ago, and the episode went live this week. I have to say, while doing the interview, I was really struck by how casually she talks about her running career—she ran her first 100-mile race, the Leadville 100, at age 48, just after her second bout with breast cancer, and she’s still cranking out ultramarathon finishes  at age 62 (including this year’s Bighorn 100 in Wyoming). It was a really inspiring chat, and I think might make you wonder if you’re actually younger than you feel, no matter how “old” you are on paper.
Apple Podcasts | Spotify

I had a blast co-teaching the Freeflow Institute Grand Canyon writing workshop this past April, and I am both happy to share that there will be a second Grand Canyon workshop in April 2026, and sad that I’m not going to be teaching next year (I love the Grand Canyon and I love Freeflow workshops, but it was too much time away from my little guy). But Craig Childs and Sherwin Bitsui will be, and I bet it’s going to be amazing. If you’re interested, more info is here, and applications are due by September 17, 2025.

Do you need to look at a huge map of the entire Star Wars galaxy? Sure you do. Why am I not surprised (but still awed) that they created this? I love humans. (via Kottke)

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When the world is going crazy,

which is how it feels anytime 

I spend too much of my time

looking at the news slash social media

slash glowing screens slash information,

which I’ve been doing for the past week or so,

I go to the hardware store. 

Because at the hardware store,

I can feel, for a few minutes, that

maybe the world is not falling apart,

as much as these people screaming at each other

about “your side” and “our side” on TV news clips 

have very nearly led me to believe.

I walk in the sliding doors,

someone asks me if they can help, 

I admit that yes, I do need help, 

finding a metric tape measure,

or some 3-in-1 multi-purpose oil,

or some metal thing that I can hardly describe

but it attaches to another metal thing

which attaches to another metal thing,

and if I attach all those metal things together,

one small problem in my life will be solved,

and that’s not gonna save the world, 

what with all the people killing people,

and people trying to kill those people,

and people saying more people should be killed,

and maybe I can’t do much about that today,

but I can spend a little time of my day

and fix that thing in my house that needs fixing, 

with help from the folks at the hardware store,

and that will save a little part of my little world,

and tip my mental scale a tiny bit back 

towards something that feels like sanity.

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I watch way too many of these NBA highlight collection videos, and I know not everyone likes basketball, but I love this one for a couple reasons: a) The conceit of the video, “Dunks but the dunker gets increasingly more unlikely,” is actually backed up with each person’s statistic of “dunks per season,” and b) many of these clips show the reactions from the team’s bench, from the teammates who are often baffled and elated that their teammate threw one down (video)

Ultrarunner (and fellow Montanan) Jeff Garmire has been attempting the self-supported fastest known time for the Appalachian Trail for the past 40-some days, and if I am reading things correctly, he is still on pace for the record as of Thursday afternoon. He’s doing this to rains money for The Trevor Project, the leading suicide prevention and crisis intervention organization for lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender, queer & questioning (LGBTQ+) young people, and the fundraising goal is $10 for each mile he’s hiking/running, or $21,970. Here’s a link if you’d like to read more about the fundraiser and/or donate, and here’s a link if you’d like to track his progress (if I’m doing the math correctly, he should be finishing sometime before Monday morning).

As a very recent convert to the church of putting winter tires on my vehicle, I appreciated this very simple explanation and graphic about winter tires from the folks at OpenSnow.

I don’t read every single email I get from the Poetry Foundation’s Poem of the Day, but I try, and occasionally I read one that’s just perfect for that day, like this one Ada Limón wrote about a small moment she witnessed on a subway platform: While Everything Else Was Falling Apart

I was just running with a friend a couple weeks ago and talking about—and I wish I could sound smarter than this, but I can’t—how cool the moon is. Like if the moon had a fan club, I’d join. And I think the guy who made these plaster models of the moon’s surface back in 1874 (!!!!!) probably would have joined it too.

The PhotoshopRequests subreddit is often people asking to have photos of someone edited for a funeral or memorial, or people asking to have an ex-partner removed from a photo, but occasionally it’s something like this guy whose young cousin left her bike at his house and would like people to take the photos of him riding her too-small bike and turn them into him “doing something cool,” an opportunity for hilarity to ensue, and I hope he shares a bunch of these photos with his cousin.

I’m sure there have been dozens of articles written about Robert Redford’s best movies since he passed away this week, but I liked this one, because it reminded me of a couple (to me) less-obvious films he acted in: Spy Game, and Old Man and the Gun. (I’d have to add Sneakers as one of my sleeper Robert Redford favorites, though.)

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I spent a good chunk of the beginning of my book Ultra-Something talking about the movie Rocky, so of course when this CinemaStix video about it popped up in my YouTube feed, I of course watched it, and of course was not disappointed (although I did already know the bit of trivia about the skating rink scene). (video)

I am a big believer that you don’t have to have gone to film school to make films, and that you don’t have to go to art school to make art, and that you don’t have to have an MFA (or even a college degree) to be a writer, but it sure feels nice when someone smart says it, so here’s Linda Carroll’s piece “The magic of self-taught writers”

I did not know I needed to read this profile of Dwayne “The Rock” Johnson (although I am interested in his new movie, The Smashing Machine), but as Jason Kottke put it, “Sam Anderson” can write. I laughed out loud at this sentence, which is a master stroke in how to use punctuation to make a joke: I do not need to introduce you to Dwayne “Dwayne ‘the Rock’ Johnson” Johnson. 

I got to meet with newsletter sponsor Precision Fuel & Hydration CEO Andy Blow and COO Jonny Tye last month, a few days before Jonny was to crew Dan Jones, who was running the UTMB. Afterward, I thought, “I should have asked Jonny if he’s ever kept track of all the food he eats while crewing,” because that (to me) would be really interesting. Fast-forward a few weeks to me reading the “Crewing 101: How to crew an endurance athlete” article on the PFH website, scrolling to the end, and found this chart comparing the nutrition intake of Chris Myers, who took 5th in the Western States Endurance Run, and Brad Williams, who helped crew Chris (it looks like Brad was a little under-nourished, in my opinion):

I clicked on this link, When Bruce Lee Trained With Kareem Abdul-Jabbar, and was delighted to see it had been written by Jeff Chang, who wrote one of my favorite hip hop history books ever, Can’t Stop Won’t Stop. The article tells the story of the friendship between the two men, which started when Kareem Abdul-Jabbar was a junior at UCLA, who had just won the college basketball championship. I didn’t realize until the end that the piece is actually an excerpt from Chang’s new book, Water Mirror Echo: Bruce Lee and the Making of Asian America, which is also exciting (but is also going to cost me $35).

I have a vague memory of this thing happening when I was a kid playing Super Mario Bros on the original Nintendo, but had not idea it was a “glitch” that inspired many other secret glitchy features in video games for years afterward. (thanks, Ed)

I think Keith Haring’s art is still relevant, and if you don’t believe me, how about this bit that Jillian Hess dug up from Keith Haring’s Journals? “Money is the opposite of magic. Art is magic. The worlds of art and money are constantly intermingling. To survive this mixture the magic in art has to be applied in new ways. Magic must always triumph.^”

I am writing this post a few hours before I go to the theater to see One Battle After Another, so all I can say about this long read about the film is that it made me even more excited to see it. I didn’t know that Paul Thomas Anderson walked out of film school at NYU because a professor snobbily dismissed Terminator 2: Judgment Day as an unserious movie, but that makes me like him. Also, this line: “It turns out that the answer to the thought experiment of whether a director already widely canonized for the consistent quality of his craft can handle the sort of massive budget more often handed over to hacks is—resoundingly—“yes.”

Marty Brodsky and I met maybe eight or nine years ago, I think at an event I did at the Boulder Bookstore, and I’ve been following his writing ever since (I have included several of his recent Substack essays in this newsletter). He reached out and asked for any advice I might have about self-publishing, since he’s starting to go down that road and self-publish a book, and I said, “Would you be up for a Substack Live conversation?” So we did that yesterday. Here’s a link to the recording.

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A selection of podcasts from 2025

Singletrack

Jeff Garmire

Peak Route

The Buzz

https://podcasts.apple.com/mx/podcast/john-kelly-on-barkley-balance-and-the-appalachian-trail-fkt/id1804209940?i=1000709101074&l=en-GB

Hiker Trash Radio

https://hikertrashradio.com/episodes/random-forest-runner-john-kelly-part-i

https://hikertrashradio.com/episodes/random-forest-runner-john-kelly-part-ii

Running Won’t Save You

https://podcasts.apple.com/us/podcast/comparing-cruelty-can-you-compare-a-barkley-to/id1783631999?i=1000702259878

From the Backcountry

https://podcasts.apple.com/us/podcast/105-john-kelly-appalachian-trail-fkt-attempt-tor-des/id1616882162?i=1000724712098

Runners Diary

https://podcasts.apple.com/ie/podcast/138-john-kelly/id1667173628?i=1000703463383

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Life comes at you fast: On Monday, I was not at all interested in birdwatching. On Tuesday, I was obsessed with it for two straight hours. I am probably not the first person to tell you that you should, as soon as you can spare one hour and 59 minutes, watch the film Listers: A Glimpse Into Extreme Birdwatching. 

Someone sent me a link to it on August 29th, 10 days after it went live on YouTube (thanks, Jason), followed by four or five other people. By the time I got around to watching the first 20 minutes of it, I was so taken with it that I thought “surely someone’s written about this.” And yes, Slate had written an article about it, as had the folks at GearJunkie. In the first month after it was released, it had 1.1 million views on YouTube. So what makes it so good?

The story: Two brothers from St. Louis—who are very novice birdwatchers—take one 2010 Kia Sedona minivan and one year to attempt a “Big Year,” the birding term for a person trying to identify as many birds as possible, by sight or sound, in a geographic area in the span of one calendar year. 

Two minutes into the film, Quentin Reiser, sitting in front of the camera, explains the genesis of the adventure: “One day I got high and found the family’s bird guide book. And I thought about how crazy it would be if you knew all the birds in that book. Just how insane that is.”

As he’s saying those three sentences, his younger brother, cinematographer Owen Reiser, pans the camera down a bong to show it sitting on top of a copy of Birds of North America: A Guide to Field Identification. 

Quentin and Owen come off as two regular guys with almost zero knowledge of birding (which they are) but they also obviously worked really, really hard on this film—which is, by the way, free to watch on YouTube (because Owen has not turned on ads for it). Owen is a legit professional cinematographer who has shot documentary footage for National Geographic and others, and brings that production quality to the video footage of birds in the film. But he also had a vision for the aesthetic of the film (I believe), and almost everything else in the film is vérité, with hand-built animations and graphics—which makes the film feel more authentic to the experience of eating-rice-and-beans while living out of a 2010 Kia Sedona with your brother, camping in Cracker Barrel parking lots. 

Quentin is very comfortable in front of his younger brother’s camera and dropping profane wisdom during the sit-down interviews (“Dude, holy fuck mosquitoes love to be inside your van”), or living the adventure in real time in the field, like when he’s enthusiastically snapping photos of a Montezuma Quail in Arizona in March, and he quietly announces, “I’d run through a brick wall for that bird.” 

The brothers find their way into the birdwatching community (and interview many of its more accomplished birders), explain everything they learned about birdwatching to the rest of us non-experts, do it in their own style, don’t gloss over the uncomfortable parts (the mosquitoes, the heat, the negative side of competing to identify more birds than anyone else, the discomfort of living in a very small old minivan), but capture the joy of discovery and adventure, and will make you laugh out loud (I promise). 

Maybe what works best about the whole thing is that it’s fun. These two are clearly fun to be around, enjoy being fun, and even though they’re dedicated to this obsessive quest that definitely changed their lives, it almost always feels light. If you take a second to examine the graphics and animations, you can imagine Owen having fun creating them, dedicating an hour (or hours) to something that he knows will be on the screen for only a handful of seconds. These two are real artists who have made a Very Fun Thing, and many of us probably need that kind of fun right now. 

The film is free, but you can support it or say thanks through Owen’s Venmo or by buying the book Quentin and Owen made about the trip on Bookshop or Amazon or Barnes & Noble. 

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Apologies if you are a longtime fan of ARIatHOME and will wonder if I live under a rock, but I somehow just discovered him this week, and I kept going “no way” every time a new person got on the mic and rapped or sang—especially the two “Brooklyn OGs” who appear around the 10-minute mark. As a commenter on a different video said: “According to these videos, every single person in NYC can spit hot fire at a moment’s notice” (video)

I loved this collection of photos of the writing spaces of authors who have made the 2025 Booker Prize longlist because (in my opinion) not a single one of them would be featured on anyone’s Pinterest page or Dwell Magazine or whatever. One of them is a couch, one of them is a bench, no one has more than one monitor, one has a view of the next-door neighbor’s shingled roof—I mean, they’re all so humble. (via Kottke)

I don’t think I’m as much of a slow lane enthusiast as the author of this New York Times Letter of Recommendation, but I love this piece because of the evolution of the author’s approach to driving because I had the same revelation about speeding a few years ago—if you’re trying to make up time, it’s really hard to make the math work in most cases, no matter how fast you drive. [GIFT LINK]

I saw a video of an Instagram influencer giving his bus driver a Rolex yesterday, which is a nice thing to do, but I couldn’t help thinking how much cooler it would have been if the guy had just given the bus driver the watch in private instead of making it into a piece of content. Maybe that’s what I like so much about this story about Ludacris ordering spring rolls at a restaurant—it genuinely happened, and makes you think Ludacris probably just acts like this all the time.

My friend Ben Polley wrote this piece on who lives and who dies after getting lost in the backcountry, and there’s a bunch of fascinating stuff in it, including this bit from the chief of county search and rescue here in Missoula: “there are two main categories of outdoor emergencies: those that involve meeting a schedule and those that involve pleasing another person.”

I read my friend Ed Roberson’s Good News from the American West newsletter every Wednesday, and I have never done this before, but I’m just going to copy and paste what he wrote about this story about a first ascent of a big rock climb along the Salmon River:  “Here’s a cool story about  a “wild and crazy” first ascent in Idaho—one that required hiking 22 miles, swimming 3.5 miles of whitewater, ascending an unclimbed wall, then floating back to civilization in a boat full of friends.”

I am not usually interested in videos with titles like “Shocking police brutality in Ireland,” but this was posted on the ContagiousLaughter subreddt, so I figured I could chance watching all 30 seconds of it, and I’ll tell you, it delivers, and does not need a trigger warning. (I mean, I guess it is technically a “dirty joke,” as far as that goes.)

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