Finding the time and motivation to write can be demoralizing. In 2023, I had a lot of trouble sitting down and putting pen to paper, even though I had a massive project I needed to make progress on. At the pace I was going – producing only two to three pages in a notebook per week – I realized that continuing in this manner would get me nowhere. It became clear that I needed to change my approach if I wanted to move on to the next phase anytime soon.
I had to get back to my roots and examine what I did before to succeed. In the past, I’ve shared my experience many times about working a little every day and that was the habit I needed to get back into. A 30-day writing streak proved to be the catalyst I needed to reignite my passion for writing and establish a sustainable routine. Write 1 page minimum every day. If I can do that, then there is hope.
Here’s a glimpse into my journey and the lessons I learned along the way.
1. Breaking Through the Resistance
Whether it’s battling writer’s block, self-doubt, or external distractions, the 30-day streak became my anchor through the tough times. Committing to writing daily forced me to confront obstacles head-on, transforming them from roadblocks into stepping stones. I know a lot of what I’ve written will be cut out in the editing phase, and that sucks, but I can’t worry about the tough parts in the future, I need to focus on the tough parts I’m going through now.
2. Excitement Rekindled
The monotony of daily life can dull the excitement that fuels our creativity. After working all day, I don’t want to spend another 30 min to an hour at my desk writing. If it’s not something I have to do, I’ll convince myself not to do it. But if it’s not a negotiation, then it changes my mindset — instead of dreading it, I can look forward to it. I find time to fit it in. I treat it like a meal. If I can’t cook for myself maybe I’ll order something, either way, I need to eat.
Embarking on a 30-day writing streak reignited that creative spark within me, because I don’t let the embers go out. Each day brought a new opportunity to explore ideas, even if they are as terrible as the food I cook for myself.
3. Momentum is Everything
Momentum played a crucial role in my writing streak. The initial days were challenging. When you are on day 4, and you give up, not a big deal, nothing was wasted. It’s really important to get through the first week with your streak intact. Once you do that, momentum picks up, and quitting ceases to be an option.
As I built momentum, the process became more natural and enjoyable. Momentum, I realized, is the key ingredient that propels you forward, making the act of writing a part of your daily routine.
4. Squeeze It In
One of the biggest challenges of a daily writing streak is finding time in a busy schedule. Squeezing in writing became a part of my day, but it’s not always easy. Things come up and it throws you off. You need to be flexible and prepared.
You won’t always get to write the same time every day. There will be mornings when you wake up late or evenings when you need to attend to some obligation. If you can get the writing out of the way as soon as possible, do that. If you can’t do that, then you will need to rely on your anticipation. Busy day tomorrow? Where are you going to eat lunch? It doesn’t matter, bring the notebook with you and write immediately after. Block off thirty minutes, that’s all you need to scribble some words on a page. If you commit to having the notebook with you, incredibly, you’ll find a way to make time for it.
5. Accountability Through Documentation
To ensure I stayed committed to my writing streak, I took an unconventional approach: filming myself. Creating a daily video log became a powerful accountability tool. Knowing that I had an audience, even if it was just future me, kept me honest and motivated to fulfill my writing commitment each day. The footage you are seeing now is me writing during the 30-day streak.
If you want to keep yourself accountable, you don’t need to film, there are other ways. You can take a photo, do it with a friend, post about it on social media, or just mark it on a calendar. I like filming because it’s relatively hands-off, I just set up the camera and let it run while I do the work. It doesn’t need to be fancy, and you don’t need to overthink it.
6. Don’t Kid Yourself
In the grand scheme of things, nobody needs me to write. It’s a selfish endeavor, driven by personal passion and a childhood dream. Acknowledging this fact eliminated any room for self-deception. If I want to write, I have to commit wholeheartedly, making it a daily habit for my own fulfillment. I can’t lie to myself and make myself feel righteous, and that all of this is for the benefit of humankind. No, this is for me. I want to do this. And that’s okay, but what’s not okay, is for me to keep bitching and being pissy that I have to do it. I don’t have to. I don’t have to find time for it. I’m choosing to. And any other attitude definitely doesn’t benefit anyone — not even myself.
So, I feel like I’m back on track. Things are happening.
Embarking on a 30-day writing streak proved to be a rejuvenating experience. A jump start I needed for my stalled vehicle. It pulled me out of a creative slump and instilled a sense of discipline in my day to day. If you’ve stopped doing something that you wanted to do, like writing, don’t hesitate—make it a habit, own it, and watch as the words and the days add up. That’s the best part.
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Flash back to early 2021. We were still in the midst of covid, the world felt like it was falling apart, and NFTs were the latest thing. While many people got into NFTs for the non fungible aspect of the token, I was most inspired by the digital art.
The one that captivated my imagination the most was, of course, Beeple and his Everydays. I aspired to pursue something similar myself, perhaps not constrained to the daily format of Everydays, but a creative endeavor like that sounded so rewarding.
March 7, 2021 I started this project as nothing more than to practice drawing. I bought myself the cheapest tablet [Amazon] I could from Amazon and off I went. Drawing Pokemon.
While I haven’t reached the end just yet, it feels like I’m already on my victory lap. I’m going to finish—I will finish. And I’m already contemplating life after this project. I believe that creating this video to commemorate how far I’ve come will spur me to double my efforts and reach the finish line before they introduce another generation.
Admittedly, what began as a commitment to draw every day has somewhat waned in priority over the past few months. Because here’s the truth, I’m ready to draw something else.
So, what is this video about?
Well, I want to share how I’ve reached this point by highlighting the 9 phases I went through to draw these 900 Pokémon. I’ll delve into the various styles I’ve chosen, the techniques I’ve learned, and how they’ve sustained me throughout the project thus far. Let’s start at the beginning.
1. The crude phase:
When I began this project, I wanted to dive in fast. Looking back, I see I could’ve put more effort into those early stages. But I also knew that to tackle such a big project, I needed to get the ball rolling. That’s always been my style when starting something new: seize the moment and make the most of it while you’re feeling motivated.
Reflecting on it now, I didn’t completely rush through them, I did spend quite some time on these crude drawings, just easing into the whole experience of using a drawing tablet. While I’ve used Photoshop before for photo manipulation, I’ve never used it for illustration. It took me a bit to stumble upon the fact that in Photoshop, I could tap into new brushes, and once I did, it was like unlocking thousands of new possibilities. This phase was an exciting start.
After the first 100 or so, I was getting pretty obsessed with trying as many different brushes as I could. At the same time, I was playing around with the format, adding backgrounds, and experimenting with composite images and integrating them into the drawings. This phase saw me coloring the Pokemon on separate layers, which really sharpened everything up.
Eventually, I came across a brush that clicked for me. It’s this thick, inky wet one that feels incredibly satisfying to use— the thickness varies based on how much pressure I apply. I really liked it. It was around this point that I realized I was fully committed to this project, and I knew there was no turning back.
At the beginning of this phase, I noticed a shift. The initial excitement surrounding the project had dwindled, and despite sharing it with others, there was little in the way of fanfare or recognition. From here on, it was going to be a slog— just me, myself, and the next Pokémon to draw.
To inject some interest into the process, I began timing myself to see how fast I could complete each drawing. By adding this extra layer of pressure, I turned the practice into a game. It added some excitement, and for a while, I gauged progress not only by style, technique, or quality, but also by the time it took to create each piece.
Over 250 days into the project, I worked up the courage to try Adobe Illustrator. It took me a while to grasp the intricacies of this new tool. It fundamentally altered my perspective on illustrating, shifting my focus from lines to shapes and seeing art — and life — in a completely different way. Throughout this phase, I found myself toggling between Photoshop and Illustrator, exploring and determining which format, style, and software suited me best.
Some of my most memorable illustrations were made during this time, but I sometimes forget which software I used until I look harder. This discovery proved that working with Illustrator is not only faster but also more consistent compared to Photoshop when using my cheap Amazon drawing tablet. Additionally, I started testing the waters of animation around this time, and Illustrator just gave me more control.
The animation phase wasn’t a long one but it was big one for me. I learned to use Adobe Animate and it was some of the most fun I had. While I thoroughly enjoyed the animation process, it added complexity to the daily task, making it more time-consuming. Still, I’m glad I was able to use this project to learn this technique and test out the software.
This phase was a mix of everything, Photoshop, Illustrator, different brushes, some with lines some without. I was searching for my style at this point and I couldn’t really pick one. So I just bounced around, practicing old tricks and trying new stuff.
That’s how I kept myself invested. This leg of the project was all about having the freedom to do whatever I wanted and adjusting whenever I felt the image would look better in a certain way. And with this freedom, I saw a lot of progression during this time, which gave me confidence to branch out further to find my style.
I found myself devoting increasingly more time to Illustrator and less to Photoshop at this stage. The next significant leap for me was delving into the 3D effects filters in Illustrator. This was a lot of fun and I really got a kick out of it. During this phase, I had the ambition to learn Blender, but I hit a roadblock and I couldn’t even get through making the Donut.
Following the 3D effects, I began incorporating the Grain effect more frequently and experimenting with the Transparency effect to add texture to the illustrations. I really enjoyed how a lot of these turned out, but there were a lot of misses during this phase as well.
Arguably the most extensive phase of this entire project thus far is what I’ve dubbed the “3 Point Stroke” phase, where I used the level 3 setting for line thickness. It was hard to say that this was becoming my style, but I did enjoy using this line thickness aesthetically and I don’t know, I was also kind of over experimenting at this point. I simply wanted to find my rhythm and maintain consistency. The daily time commitment was wearing out, especially considering I had been immersed in this project for over 2 years by this point.
It was also during this generation of Pokémon where they became more detailed and harder to draw. This meant that some took considerably more time to create. While there were Pokémon that were essentially circles with eyes, there were also ones like Celesteela.
Finally, we arrive at the current phase. No, I’m not using AI to draw my Pokemon. I am still handcrafting each and every one using mostly the Point 3 Stroke thickness, however, I am also now returning to my experimental ways, and I’m doing that by incorporating AI into my creations.
I want to just stay in the loop and see the capabilities of Adobe’s built-in tools. This way, when the time comes to transition to other projects, I’ll be well-versed in them. Initially, I started with generating random images, but now I’m getting the hang of prompting backgrounds that don’t look awful. They are far from perfect, but they are pretty cool and it is interesting to see what the future holds.
The goal of this project was to do something consistently and hopefully get something out of it. Like the Pokemon themselves, this experience has been an evolution. So much of my life has changed, but this project has been a constant, something I could always fall back on when I get the overwhelming feeling, this restlessness that I have when I need to do something, but not sure what to do first. Drawing a Pokemon was always an option that didn’t require too many decisions. It’s nice knowing that I’ll always have another one lined up.
It has also been a reliable platform for me to try new things. There was no right or wrong when doing this. If I make a mistake and the Pokemon turns out awful, no problem, there will always be tomorrow. I make a conscious effort not to retract and edit a picture once it’s published. Once it’s out there, it’s out there.
So, 900 Pokemons down, a little over a hundred to go. The journey continues, this reflection is a nice little boost to keep me going. The big question now is: What will be my final phase of drawing Pokemon?
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I have this voice in my head. Everyday, I wake up and it starts talking at me. Sometimes the voice sounds like my parents, sometimes it sounds like a teacher, sometimes it sounds like the bully in high school, but most of the time, it disguises itself as a well-intentioned friend. But this voice is not friendly. This voice is not caring. This voice is hurtful, destructive, and patronizing.
Every day, I battle this voice in my head. Some days, I win and some days, there is no victory, there is only survival, and I come to the end of the day wounded and weak, only capable of going to sleep and hoping to go to war again the next day.
Today, I’m going to share what the negative voice in my head tells me, as an act of recognition, of retaliation, and then share approaches to silence them. These tactics don’t always work, but as much as we need to focus on honing our craft and developing hard skills, we also need to strengthen our mental muscles. Doing so enables us to break free from the self-fulfilling prophecy that society has conditioned us to accept, which keeps us weak and compliant. I hope this helps you.
1. Everyone hates you:
It’s easy to fall into the trap of believing that everyone is against you, that the world is conspiring to bring you down. But pause for a moment and consider: Is it truly everyone? Or is it perhaps a few voices amplified by your own insecurities? Remember, perception isn’t always reality.
Don’t waste energy trying to win favors or impress those that will never be on your side. An away team doesn’t try to get the fans in the arena to cheer for them, they know that they are playing for the people back home. And so it goes, find your home team. Instead of dwelling on imagined hatred, focus on nurturing genuine connections with those who uplift you.
2. You’re not good enough:
Ah, the relentless refrain of self-doubt. The voice in my head loves telling me how I’m not as good as this person and that I’m not as rich as that person, and that so-and-so did that when they were half my age.
Yes, it’s easy to get caught up in the comparison game, measuring our worth against arbitrary standards of success. But here’s the thing: My value isn’t contingent upon accolades or achievements. While what’s her name or whosits did this or that, they haven’t lived my life, gone through my struggles, overcame my challenges, and done everything that I’ve done. What is good enough anyways? I want to ask the voice. It’s human nature to always want more. That’s why we must embrace our strengths, acknowledge our flaws, and remember that enough is enough.
3. Everyone is laughing at you:
My special power is that I don’t get embarrassed, however, when you are laughed at in public, it really affects your social standings. Suddenly, you become the butt of jokes and your opinions hold no sway.
That’s why the voice in my head reminds me that being laughed at is awful and that I should question my every move. But here’s the truth: Most people are too preoccupied with their own lives to spend time laughing at yours. And even if someone does find your actions, your dreams, and your ambitions funny, their opinions hold no power over you either. Embrace vulnerability, knowing that it takes courage to be authentic in a world that often values conformity.
4. You should apologize for what you did:
All my life I have gotten in trouble because someone with authority thought that I was out of bounds. Their voices echo in my head today, demanding that I feel shame for merely existing and that I should apologize to anyone and everyone around me as my life is a nuisance.
Owning up to our mistakes is a vital part of personal growth, but there’s a fine line between accountability and self-flagellation. I continue to walk this line everyday, knowing that any misstep I take may be called out and suddenly I’m back in sixth grade detention. The fact of the matter is, I will make mistakes and I may never do better. The voice in my head knows this and it tortures me. But… I’ll try… I’ll try to be kind to myself as I try to learn from my mistakes. And for that I’m not sorry.
5. You haven’t accomplished anything:
Feeling stuck, like you’re not going anywhere while others move forward, can be suffocating. In a world where success often means achieving specific goals, it’s easy to think your efforts are pointless if you haven’t reached those milestones.
But success comes in different forms, and it’s not just about getting awards or recognition from others. It’s not about owning a house or getting some fancy title at work. It’s not about having kids in some prestigious university or traveling the world.
Take a moment to think about your journey so far. Maybe you haven’t achieved everything you hoped for, but think about the tough times you’ve gone through, the obstacles you’ve conquered, and the lessons you’ve learned. Every experience, whether good or bad, has helped shape who you are today. The voice in your head tends to overlook those things when criticizing you.
6. Stop bragging:
Oh the voice in my head loves telling me to stop talking about everything I’ve done, because god forbid someone else feels jealous. I enjoy speaking of my achievements, who doesn’t? But the voice in my head does a good job diminishing my work, especially having heard countless people tell me throughout my life not to be such a show-off.
Only now, I’m reminding myself that celebrating your achievements isn’t bragging; it’s acknowledging your hard work and resilience. Don’t shrink yourself to make others feel comfortable. Your successes are worthy of celebration, and sharing them can inspire others to pursue their own dreams. Remember, humility isn’t about downplaying your accomplishments; it’s about recognizing that we’re all works in progress, learning and growing along the way.
7. You always give up:
The voice of defeat can be the loudest of them all, convincing us that we’re destined to fail before we even begin. Yes, it’s true, I have given up on a lot during my years. I have made choices and I’ve often associated them with failures. But setbacks are not synonymous with failure; they’re new opportunities. Detours aren’t the wrong way, it’s just another way around. Perseverance isn’t about never faltering; it’s about picking yourself up each time you stumble and pressing onward with renewed determination.
8. You’re wasting your time:
The insidious whisper of doubt, telling you that every effort expended is futile, every moment spent a wasted opportunity. Even as I’m working on this project, there is the voice in my head saying, “Why are you even making this video, you could be resting. You could be watching tv. Nobody is going to watch this anyways. They will be watching something better on Netflix. Go watch Netflix!”
But wouldn’t watching Netflix be a greater waste of time? I ask. This usually shuts the voice up for a bit and it reminds me that time is not merely a currency to be spent, but a precious resource to be savored and invested wisely.
Pause and reflect on the moments that have brought you joy, the pursuits that have ignited your passion, the connections that have enriched your life. Are they truly wasted, simply because they aren’t how other people want to spend their time? Whether anyone watches my videos, reads my stories, or sees my illustrations, it doesn’t matter. The value of an experience isn’t measured solely by its tangible outcomes, but by the intangible lessons learned, the memories made, and the growth nurtured along the way.
The voice in my head has a lot to say, but you know what? So do I. And while my battle against my negative self-talk will likely be a lifelong endeavor, I won’t give up. On top of that, I’m going to keep talking. I’m going to keep doing what I do. I’m going to try new things that excite me and pursue projects with no end in sight. I’m going to drown out that little voice with everything I do. The voice in my head will not shut me up.
What does the voice in your head tell you? What do you do about it? Let me know in the comments.
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I joined Zwift in January 2024 to prep for 3 triathlons I have coming up this year, and I’ve really come to enjoy the racing aspect of the platform. I use them mainly to toughen up mentally and stay cool when the going gets tough. Plus, with competition, it really becomes a solid kill-yourself type of workout. Which is just what I need to punish myself with after a long week.
Zwift splits racers into different categories, E, D, C, B and A. After a week of riding Zwift, I got placed in D to start. But you know what? If I can take on stronger competition, why not? How hard could it really be? What happens when I tackle races in all four categories available to me? Can I win? How badly will I lose? Time to find out. I call this Project: Get Humbled
In this post, I’ll share my experiences in my first 4 races, increasing the category level each time. With one week to recover, I believe this will be a good baseline test that I can use to reference maybe a year, or two years from now. Well, that’s the idea, simple enough, let’s get sweating and kick off with my first race. My maiden voyage, if you will.
This was Race 1:
Group D. Stage 2 of The Flat is Fast: Series: The Fan Flat in Richmond
I call this chapter: The Naive
As the first race counted down, I felt a surge of excitement. Having done a test ride of the course the day before, I was eager to see how I’d stack up against competitors worldwide. Yet, unexpectedly, nerves crept in. My goal was simple: finish the race and establish a baseline performance. I hoped nothing beyond my control would knock me out, given the unpredictability of technology. If I was going down, I wanted it to be under my power. This was all so new to me… just watch me navigate the interface, adjusting my camera angles, not even understanding what’s going on.
When the race started, I repeated my plan in my head. All the research I’d done emphasized the importance of giving it your all early on to keep up with the pack, and that’s precisely what I aimed to do. My sole focus was to hang on tight and maintain a position as close to the front as possible—— even accidentally launching myself to the lead a few times.
Keeping with the pack felt good here. I was pushing myself, yet it didn’t feel like I was exhausting all my energy reserves. In the early stages, I felt confident. I could truly hold my ground here. As long as I stuck with this group, anything seemed achievable. And that’s exactly what I did.
I kept pace with them until the third lap, then I began to assess my condition. It was likely a mistake, as I found myself at the forefront of the pack. I was putting a lot of watts in. And for my size, this was strategically a bad idea. I was really pushing the limits in terms of my watts per kilogram, and I was about to push even harder.
At the 24th-minute mark, a break occurred, and five cyclists surged ahead. The chase was on. I could see them rapidly distancing themselves, potentially becoming unreachable. Faced with a decision, I had to choose between playing it safe and sticking with the chase group or ramping up my watts even further to pursue them. I opted for the latter, pushing myself to maintain up to 4 watts per kilogram in pursuit.
Guess what? I managed to catch up with the three cyclists breaking away. The podium was within reach, and I understood that this might be a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, even though it was my first race. I realized I had to shake off any doubts right away. I was going all in. The top four of us powered through the last three-quarters of the lap together—sprinting hard, pushing each other to the limits. I went all out. I gave it everything I had to secure the win.
The number of km left slowly went down. I found myself in the lead. It was time to lower my heart rate and prepare for the final sprint in the last kilometer or so. I needed to bide my time. I could see the two cyclists behind me, but I wasn’t sure if others had caught up. I waited, perhaps too long, allowing them to make the first move. I should have been the one to push harder initially; gaining momentum would have made all the difference.
Now, I was the one chasing, with less than a kilometer to go. We surged forward, and I was overtaken. Then it happened again. I settled into third place. Fine. Hold onto it, I urged myself. Hold it. With just under 200 meters to go, I closed in. But it was not meant to be, my Cinderella story was dashed, with only 50 meters left, another cyclist blew past me right at the finish line. Fourth place! Unbelievable. Gut-wrenching!
But wait… on the official Zwift Power website. I came in third! Huge! Due to that performance, I was bumped up into the C category. My first race. I overdid it. It would have been nice to do another race in D, but… I guess if Zwift wants to challenge me… challenge accepted.
This was not easy. I put everything I had into this race. I got my HR up to 190 for god sake. I really thought I could win. That was how naive I was. Well… now I can never race in Cat D again. On to the future. I’m ready.
Now let’s get into the second race.
Which was…
Stage 3 of the Flat is Fast Series in Group C: The Volcano Flat in Watopia
The title of this race is Stay Calm
Heading into the second race, I felt much better than I did during the first one. I was warmed up and had a solid game plan in mind. But, as they say, everyone has a plan until they get punched in the face—and let me tell you, I definitely got punched in the face.
The race opened at a fast pace, but I managed to hang on, and I was genuinely proud of my effort. I dug in, stayed focused, and didn’t hesitate to push my watts into the 300s. Deep down, I knew I couldn’t sustain that level of intensity, but I hoped and prayed that the pace would ease up, allowing me to maintain a steady rhythm.
If by some miracle, I could stick with the lead group, that would be fantastic. My primary goal was simply not to get dropped, a real concern less than a minute into the race. Then, unexpectedly, I found myself at the front. There was a glimmer of hope. Regardless, I experienced some back-and-forth movement for a while, but overall, I felt good about my performance.
Then disaster struck. Well, disaster is not the right word, but something did go wrong.I began to notice a clicking sound coming from my spin bike. Initially, it was sporadic, but soon it occurred with every rotation. It was unsettling, and I kept checking, hoping to find a loose screw or some visible issue that I could fix. However, everything appeared to be fine. The persistent clicking made me nervous because I didn’t want to damage my bike during the race. It really messed with my head, and I could feel my mental focus slipping.
I was getting dropped, and the clicking sound from my bike became increasingly difficult to ignore. About a quarter of the way into the race, after over 10 minutes had passed, I realized I couldn’t ignore the issue any longer. I had to address it. At 11:18, I made a quick decision to step off the bike, seizing an opportunity during a downhill stretch. Unsure of what to do, I attempted to tighten up the pedal.
Fortunately, by sticking with the lead group from the beginning, I created some space to address the issue. I could see that I had a gap before the chase group caught up, allowing me some breathing room. I resumed pedaling and got back on the bike at 12:02, spending nearly 40 seconds without pedaling. By the time I got back on, the chase group had caught up.
Now, the game plan has completely changed. My objective now was to stick with this chase group and hopefully make it to the end in one piece, both myself and my bike.
The clicking sound persisted throughout the remainder of the first lap, and I was coordinating with my wife, who was watching, to troubleshoot the issue. At that moment, I contemplated whether to dismount completely and abandon the race to address the bike problem. However, I’m pleased with how I managed to stay calm, collected myself, and pressed on.
Here’s the thing about technology and mechanical issues: sometimes they just fix themselves. Not always—sometimes they completely fall apart. But today, to my relief, the clicking sound stopped for the second lap.
Now, I was just trying to stay with this chase pack and hopefully finish in the top 50. So we stuck together for the majority of the last lap.
The second lap was brutal. It took everything for me to keep up. Just look at me. I’m dying. But I hung in there. With a km left, I was hanging on for dear life and anytime I had to push over 200 wats, I felt it. I didn’t have many matches left to burn. I was in pain, drenched in sweat, giving it my all. I wasn’t sure how much longer I could hold on. But you know me—I’m always up for one final push and a sprint to the finish. It was an emotional race, and I was determined to give it everything I had to finish in the top fifty.
49… 49… 48.. At the very last moment. I got it!
Even better, the official results had me in 24.
Given everything that went wrong, including the need to dismount the bike, I would consider the outcome a success. Needless to say, Group C was significantly more challenging than D. There appears to be a noticeable divide between the top and bottom of C. I believe there should be another category in between, as our group finished well over 2-3 minutes behind the lead group.
This result has left me eager to race in Group C again because I feel I now have a better understanding of what to expect. What if my bike hadn’t started making that clicking sound? Would I still have been dropped? Most likely. However, I’m curious about how long I could have kept up with the lead group and what impact it would have had on my overall time.
Sadly, before I could answer that question about group C, I now had to get ready for my race in group B.
Stage 4 of the Flat is Fast Series in Group B: Douce France in France
It’s my 3rd Race, and I call this one: Still Breathing
In my last two races, I competed on Sunday mornings Pacific time. However, this week, I had to reschedule my Zwift race to Friday evening because I’ll be running a half marathon on Sunday.
Friday evenings typically see less activity on Zwift, and there weren’t as many participants in this particular race. I’m also aware that as I advance through the categories, the number of competitors in the race will likely decrease as well. Initially, this gave me hope. Perhaps I could perform well in a smaller group.
But there is no reason to believe I would because having a smaller group means there are fewer people to keep up with if a break occurs early. And what do you know, less than 2 minutes in, a break happened. I pushed as hard as I could, maintaining around the mid-200 watts, but the lead pack was gone.
My bike started making the clicking sound again, but it stopped a few minutes later. So I’m going to leave it as a mystery. Regarding the race, my hope of even being a contender was dashed right away. The dream was dead.
However, I wasn’t stranded. I managed to stay with a small group of 4 riders. In this group, we pushed each other, just because we were at the tail didn’t mean we were going easy. Whatever was happening in the lead pack didn’t matter anymore. Four minutes in, my focus shifted to maintaining my position within this group. I cannot get dropped by them.
That was hard! At some points, I went as high as 300 watts, not sustainable. I knew that to even stay in this chase pack, I would need to give everything I got. And this thought was happening early on, at about 5 minutes.
Big shoutout to the 4 riders I was cycling with during this stretch—they really pushed my limits. As I crossed over the aqueduct around the 18-minute mark, I was fading. But something else was happening. Other racers were either getting caught or dropping out altogether. A glimmer of hope. If I couldn’t out ride them, I’d try to outlast them. I was determined to stay in the race until the very end.
Around the 17 km mark of the race, nearly 30 minutes in, the group began to spread out. My watts were decreasing, and I knew it was something I had to accept. While some riders had dropped out by this point, those ahead of me were starting to create insurmountable separation. Suddenly, I found myself with just one other rider: Fujino from Japan.
Now, Fujino was my sole focus. My last goal in this race was to avoid being completely left behind. This was me hanging on by my fingertips.
Everyone was gone. My effort was at max. My watts were however going down. I couldn’t hold it anymore. Reality was sinking in. With all the drop outs… I was now officially the last racer still in the race. There wasn’t much I could do about it, except give everything I could in the final sprint to get past Fujino. But he was not making it easy for me.
Then came the final kilometer. I needed to choose the right moment to make my move. That came with 700 meters to go. I unloaded, but I couldn’t gain any ground. Fujino activated his Aero power-up, and if anything, he pulled further ahead. It seemed hopeless… but not quite. I dug deep with 100 meters left, but the race was over.
I finished 17th out of 29, but the official time on Zwift Power says it all: 14th out of 14. Last place, just as I had anticipated. It was an incredibly humbling experience. But I’m proud of my performance. I persevered. I didn’t give up. And I was only 4 minutes and 30 seconds behind the winner. That seems achievable someday.
To be honest, attempting to win Group C feels as challenging as trying to win Group B at this stage. The gap is so significant either way. Racing in Group B almost takes the pressure off in that sense and you can just do your best. Even if I don’t level up, I see myself participating in a Group B race again, hopefully in one with more competitors.
Speaking of competitors.
Stage 5 of the Flat is Fast Series in Category A: Greater London Flat in London
Final chapter: A Lonely Road
This big race took place after a busy, exhausting week, but I won’t make any excuses. Nevertheless, it’s important to note that just seven days ago, I ran a half marathon… so needless to say, I didn’t come into this event feeling fresh.
No, as I lined up, it was the first time I felt fear. I dreaded the pain that was about to come. Having pushed myself to the limit in previous races, I knew that today would be no different.
Before I could even calm my heart rate down, the gun fired, and off we went… well, everyone else did. In less than a minute, I was dropped. I found myself completely alone, in no man’s land. With nearly a 5 km lead-in, this race was going to be long and mentally taxing.
The reason I participate in these races is to train both my mental and physical endurance. I must constantly adapt my strategy based on how I feel and what unfolds during the race. Now that I was all alone, I had to create challenges to stay motivated, as there was no one in sight. So, I focused on the numbers. My new objective was to stay ahead of those behind me, and surprisingly, there were people behind me — Pettigrew and Hill.
Struggling to maintain even 200 watts, I knew it wasn’t going to be easy. The race seemed endless. That’s the feeling when you’re alone, and the only carrot you have is the projected distance between you and the competitors chasing you. It’s tough because part of you wants them to catch up so you’ll have company, but you know that if they do catch you, it’s game over.
I was grappling with my inner demons, pushing my power as high as I could, when the rain started to pour down on the course at the 11 km mark, with a third of the race still ahead.
This was where I knew the inevitable was going to happen. Gradually, Pettigrew and Hill began to reel me in. What was once a gap of well over 20 seconds had now dwindled to 10 seconds and was decreasing. Then, at the 13.5 km mark, they caught up with me. In a way, I felt relieved that the solo struggle was over. I could now hang with them and play this cat and mouse game, chasing and dropping back so I can get some draft. I recalibrated. New goal. I couldn’t let them get away.
So the three of us rode together, swapping positions, taking turns in the lead. As we reached the point where there was only 1 km left, I knew I needed to make my move soon. But I was tired… so I waited… I hesitated… with 800 m left, I held back until Hill came up right behind me, pressuring.
Then, with 500 m left, I made my move. It was me and Pettigrew all the way. I pushed and pushed. But I just couldn’t take it to the next level. My heart rate spiked to 191. But I simply didn’t have the power to compete, and Pettigrew beat me by a wheel’s length. Once again, another sprint finish lost.
Unofficially, I finished 14th out of 22, but once again, I found myself last on Zwift Power. I have to give credit to Pettigrew and Hill, even though they didn’t rank officially, they meant everything to me in this race. As much as it sucked that they caught me, they made the finish interesting, and, I can’t help but feel humbled. So shout out to them… and I guess, everyone else ahead of us.
Conclusion
There you have it. Those were my first four races in Zwift, covering all four categories available for me to compete in. Here’s another look at the results, which are pretty consistent in terms of the stats and serve as a good indicator of my current power level.
I called this Project: Get Humbled and I think I did just that. It’s incredible how strong some people are on the bike. When you push yourself beyond your limits to compete with them, and still lose so badly, it’s just impressive.
On the flip side of the coin, this project was very inspiring. I feel positive about the progress I’ve made on the bike so far. I’ve already increased my power by nearly 60 watts since I started including the stationary bike in my training about two months ago, so the sky’s the limit.
With that being said, I’m also glad that it’s over now, and I can spend some time resting my legs and preparing for more achievable challenges. So stay tuned for more Zwift and endurance adventures and be sure to subscribe to my channel so you don’t miss them.
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We’ve all been there – that exhilarating moment when a brilliant idea hits. It’s going to be the next big story, a blockbuster movie, or a groundbreaking business that will make you rich. However, as many of us have experienced, there’s often a gap between the ideas in our heads and the written words in front of us. Why?
It’s the Language
When you have an idea in your head, it seems clear and well-thought-out because you naturally understand it. But when you try to explain it in words, you realize that it’s not as clear as you thought. Writing needs a level of precision and organization that thinking alone doesn’t.
Language has its limits, and not all ideas can be expressed perfectly in words. Especially with abstract or complex concepts, finding the right words can be tricky.
That’s why in writing we often hear the advice to write evocatively. This means that we need engage our senses by only using words.
In your head, you can see the full moon beautifully. But on paper, simply writing “a beautiful moon” doesn’t capture the scene. You need to write something like: Fireflies danced in a mesmerizing ballet, creating a spectacle of ethereal lights against the backdrop of the silent, moonlit meadow.
Your thoughts are dynamic and can change rapidly. However, when you write something down, it’s only a static representation of your thoughts at a particular moment. Unlike the real-time editing and refinement possible in your mind, the act of communicating your ideas through words will never capture this aspect effectively.
For example, have you ever listened to someone telling you a long-winded story, maybe about their dream? By their tone, they are really into it but it doesn’t go anywhere. It’s just a series of events without a climax. That’s the trouble with words. In our heads, all the events flow seamlessly together without wasted time or energy. But as thought transforms into sentences, words, and syllables, the effort the listener expends to hold attention adds up.
When it comes down to it, words are just symbols. Symbols that may mean different things to different people. Therefore, to get your idea fully into someone’s head will require something closer to telepathy — a near-impossible feat. Nobody can fully see the idea in your head no matter how great of a storyteller you become.
But we can’t blame it all on language. A part of the reason why our ideas are often better in our heads is that we haven’t fully flushed out the concept yet.
The Idea is Unfinished
In your mind, you may explore multiple facets of an idea, but when you write it down, you may find it difficult to capture all the nuances and details. You’ve got all these dots on a page, but you can’t connect them.
Writing often requires a more linear and structured presentation, forcing you to organize your thoughts in a logical manner. The act of arranging information helps clarify the relationships between settings, characters, and events, making it easier to comprehend the overall story. In this way, you see holes and inconsistencies.
Have you ever heard of the concept that the best way to learn something is to teach it? It’s the same. The best way to understand something is to communicate it.
You believe your idea can be fully formed in the process of translation, but rarely it is.
Simply put…
You’re Not as Brilliant As You Think
There is a cognitive bias known as the positivity bias, which leads individuals to focus more on positive aspects and overlook potential flaws in their ideas. When an idea is in your head, it might seem brilliant because it exists in an idealized form. It’s safe in your head.
However, when writing, the fear of judgment or criticism creeps in. This fear can impact your ability to express yourself freely and can lead to a sense that the written expression falls short. Now that it is out there then it can be attacked and broken apart. This is commonly what happens in a writing workshop, where ideas are put to the communal test.
Overcoming this challenge often requires practice, revision, and recognizing that writing is iterative. It’s normal for the first draft to be less satisfying than the idea in your head. But through editing and refining, you can bridge the gap between your thoughts and the words on the page, making your ideas clearer and more compelling.
The first draft is a stage where writers explore their ideas, characters, and plots for the first time without the pressure of perfection. It’s a phase of discovery and experimentation, which may result in writing that feels unpolished — because it is.
It’s only an illusion that the idea is better in your head than on paper. Don’t let it trick you. Your idea is not as good as you think, and your idea is not as bad as you think. Until you bring it out into the physical world, there is no way to examine it properly.
So don’t be afraid to bring your idea into the real world and put it to the test. Let’s see where it breaks. You shouldn’t waste your life counting fool’s gold, saving up your great ideas like a miser, because they won’t be as great as you’ve thought. Instead, take your best ideas and take your worst ideas — whichever ones inspire you to take action — and run with them, expand on them, go off on tangents, just keep creating knowing that whatever you’ve made is better than an idea. And some day, with enough practice and luck, you’d be able to connect all the dots that you’ve made. A creation that matches your imagination.
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In September 2023, I participated in my first sprint-distance triathlon in Vancouver’s Stanley Park. The race comprised a 750m swim starting from Second Beach, followed by a 20k bike ride—two laps around Stanley Park—and concluding with a 5 km run to Burrard Bridge and back to Second Beach.
Before training for this race, I had close to zero experience with all three disciplines. I had swimming lessons when I was a kid, but I was only good enough to save myself from drowning… temporarily. That’s about it. Like many, I came into the sport most nervous about the first leg of the race: the swim.
However, my cycling history wasn’t much better. I didn’t grow up with a bike; I learned to ride one at the age of 13 while hanging out with schoolmates. My most vivid cycling memories involve biting off more than I can chew—whether it’s renting a bike on vacation and venturing too far up a volcano or commuting too far in the city and finding myself needing to navigate a sketchy, heavy-traffic route home. Naturally, I associate cycling with near-death experiences. But I was really more concerned about the mechanical aspect of the sport.
Finally, there is the run. I’m not particularly fond of running; I used to jest that the only way to get me to run was by giving me a bus to chase. Running for anything more than a quick sprint didn’t appeal to me, and I certainly didn’t take it seriously. Before registering for the triathlon, I had only participated in one 10k race—that’s the extent of my running experience.
So, that was my background before the triathlon. Not only was I a novice in the sport, but I was essentially a beginner in all three disciplines. I found a certain charm in that. I didn’t have to pick favorites; there was a wealth of learning in each of them, and learn I did. In my rebellious manner, I learned through making mistakes. While, yes, there were errors, there were also some small wins along the way.
Today, I’m going to share three things that went right during my training and race, and three things that went wrong.
The first thing to go right is that…
I gave myself a lot of time in training
As mentioned, the race took place over Labor Day weekend in September, and I registered for it in March, providing me with a little over 180 days to prepare. It took about a week or two to find my comfort zone on the bike and a couple of months to control my breathing technique in the swim. Not only that, it gave me time to recover from pushing my body like I have never before. The sudden training led to shin splints, sidelining me from hard running for a week in March.
Having enough time on my hands also let me join a few smaller races in between. I did a 10k in April, a 5k in June, and another 10k in August. These races were great for getting used to the mindset of competing with others, which is tough to simulate in regular training. It helped me figure out how I’d respond when someone faster passes me—would I speed up? I wanted to practice the mental side of things too, and that required real-life experience.
I’d say, if you are starting out. Give yourself as much time as possible. Commit to it early on and just make a year out of it.
Now let’s talk about something that didn’t go well:
Going too fast on the swim during choppy water
Everyone told me to go easy on the swim. I heard that advice, and I was planning to follow it. The only issue was, I wasn’t exactly sure how slow I should go, and I didn’t know what might happen if I didn’t follow the advice correctly. Sometimes there’s only one way to find out.
On race day, the water was unusually choppy. I had practiced swimming the race course three times before the event, and each time, I felt quite comfortable. However, on that particular day, the conditions were wild.
Still, I wasn’t discouraged. When the race began, I joined the group at the starting line and just went for it. The first 200m went well, and I felt great keeping up with everyone. But things changed at the first turn; there was a bottleneck, and a wave hit me, making me swallow a lot of salt water. Despite people swimming around me, I had to keep moving, but getting around the corner was tough with the waves beating on me. I got exhausted and struggled to breathe. This was the result of starting too fast; I didn’t have the energy to recover.
After making the turn, I was now swimming with the waves hitting me from the side I usually breathe on, my left side. It was a critical moment in the race, and I thought about stopping many times. But I remembered all the hard work to get to this point. Quitting after just a 300m swim wasn’t okay. I had to keep going. It was a struggle, but eventually, I turned back toward the beach, and the waves helped propel me forward. The worst was over, and I made it through.
Now for something that went right… and this is a big one:
I finished the race
That was the only goal I had going in. Finishing the race. Getting that benchmark time and having a better sense of what needed improving.
Many things could have gone wrong and stopped me from finishing. The tough swim was one worry, and my bike falling apart was another. I also had the fear of getting disqualified in my mind.
During the race, there were times when things could go wrong. I saw someone crash on the bike course, which affected me mentally, and the first kilometer of the run was painful, and I had to adjust a lot. The interesting part was figuring out how to balance everything rather than just pushing hard all the way to the finish.
Something that went wrong that I didn’t anticipate or practice was:
Racking my bike…
Returning to transition after the cycling portion of the race, I had to put my bike back onto the rack. I had so much trouble getting it on. First off, not that this was a problem, but I noticed that my bike saddle was crocked when I got to the race. I’m not sure how it got damaged. It might have been because of a crash a few weeks before (I’ll get more into that later).
Anyway, I recall standing there, grappling with my bike, rolling it over my wetsuit and attempting to get it back onto the rack. Not only did I waste 10-20 seconds doing that, but I also expended a considerable amount of energy. To add to the chaos, I entered through the wrong side of the rack. Once I finally managed to rack my bike, scratching up my new shifter in the process, I had to run around to put on my running shoes. My transition 2 was not impressive.
Sticking with another thing that went wrong:
My bike itself…
Look, I still think I made a good decision getting the bike I did because I was close to getting an even worse bike.
I didn’t want to invest in a pricey bike only to discover that I wasn’t fully committed to the sport.
This is a $500 hybrid bike, also the nicest bike I’ve owned so far. I pushed this bike to its limits during training, and a few components began to show wear, with the shifter being the most notable. Approximately a month before the race, every time I hit a bump, the left shifter would unexpectedly drop gears, which became super annoying.
My initial plan was to complete my first two races with this bike and then upgrade to a road bike. I’m honestly relieved that it managed to hold up and get me through the race. Because a week after, I noticed a clunking sound every time I pedaled. It turned out that the freewheel had broken.
I must have pushed it too far during the race itself.
This little bike had a lot of action in a short amount of time and I’ve paid a lot since to maintain it. But after my first race, I decided to retire it from racing and purchase an entry-level road bike to take over. As for my old one, I use it as a commuter bike and it’s great for that. Despite not everything going perfectly, and a few stressful days, I wouldn’t change a thing.
Something that went right from beginning to end was my pleasure for
Tracking progress
I got into this sport because it’s not just about fitness and gear; it’s also analytical. I enjoy tracking each workout, noting improvements or areas to work on. Using this data helps me adjust my effort and tweak my plan. Seeing myself get better gradually—swimming, cycling, and running longer and faster over time on a spreadsheet—brings me an abnormal amount of joy.
Second only to enjoying a beautiful summer day outdoors, observing my progress is my favorite aspect. It’s incredibly motivating to reflect on the beginning and recall how challenging it was to swim 200 meters. I vividly remember that version of myself, and it’s astonishing that in less than a year, I’ve gained so much more confidence in the sport.
Without a doubt, if I hadn’t tracked my progress in some way, it would have been harder to remember where I came from and my commitment would have waned, and I likely would have given up, or at the very least, not signing up for another race.
That’s correct—I’m currently fully invested in triathlon as my recreational pastime. It’s been a welcome counterbalance to the extensive time I spend at a computer. I recommend it to most people with a sedentary job.
If you’re thinking about signing up for a triathlon and haven’t before, just know it’s a commitment. Starting with nothing, I spent at least $2000 getting ready for my first race, but the time I put into training made it worthwhile. It’s become a stress reliever I look forward to, and it broke up my day nicely.
It can become quite an obsession, but when you’re working on a novel like I am, it’s more pleasant to share that you’re doing a triathlon rather than writing a novel. Both are braggy lines you can boast about, but at least with the triathlon, you don’t have to bore people with the details of your dystopian fantasy.
Well, those are three things that I believe I did well and three things that didn’t go as expected when I signed up for a triathlon. If you’re feeling inactive, going through an existential crisis, or just frustrated with the world, consider giving triathlon a try. Above all, it has been therapeutic, and I think that’s a good thing.
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Before we discuss the events of San Junipero, let’s first take a look back to when this episode was released: Oct 21, 2016.
In 2016, consumer-grade VR headsets like Oculus Rift, HTC Vive, and PlayStation VR became widely available, making virtual reality more accessible to the masses.
In the same year, VR found applications in healthcare, particularly for pain management during medical procedures. This was often called “Virtual Reality Distraction” or “VR Distraction Therapy,” where VR headsets created immersive experiences to distract patients from pain.
Mobile dating apps became the dominant platform for online dating in 2016, making the dating process more convenient. The concept of casual dating and hookup culture gained popularity, with apps like Tinder associated with short-term, non-committal relationships.
However, Tinder and its algorithm faced criticism for allegedly perpetuating racial and gender biases in online dating, which raised concerns about fairness and inclusivity.
2016 was a notable year for global equality, with countries like Colombia legalizing same-sex marriage. However, in the U.S., debates on transgender rights and bathroom access intensified due to North Carolina’s “bathroom bill”.
Tragically, the Pulse nightclub shooting in Orlando, Florida on June 12, 2016, targeted the LGBTQ community, resulting in 49 deaths and numerous injuries, making it one of the deadliest mass shootings in America.
Brittany Maynard’s 2014 case continued to influence the euthanasia and right-to-die conversation as it inspired discussions on end-of-life autonomy. In June 2016, California’s “End of Life Option Act” went into effect, allowing terminally ill adults to request medical aid in dying, making California the fifth U.S. state to legalize physician-assisted suicide.
2016 marked a transition year, with technology becoming integrated into various aspects of life, offering opportunities and challenges. This year set the stage for a more connected and digital society, impacting dating, healthcare, and our ability to cope with loss.
And that’s what brings us to this episode of Black Mirror: Episode 4 of Season 3: San Junipero, an iconic episode that invites us to contemplate the implications of a digital afterlife.
In this video, we’ll explore 3 themes of this episode and determine whether similar events have happened — and if not, whether they are still plausible.
Til Death Do Us Part
The episode begins with Yorkie navigating the bustling Tucker’s nightclub, where she crosses paths with Kelly, who encourages her to dance. This encounter sets the stage for a deeper connection beyond the surface allure of San Junipero’s neon-lit nightlife.
The 1980s was an interesting time. While there was progress in the women’s rights movement, traditional gender roles still persisted in many areas. Women were often expected to balance a career with homemaking, and men faced pressure to conform to traditional masculinity. Those who didn’t conform to societal norms often faced stigmatization. This included individuals with alternative lifestyles, like the LGBTQ community.
The American Psychiatric Association declassified homosexuality as a mental disorder in its diagnostic manual in 1973, but the emergence of the HIV/AIDS epidemic in the 1980s sparked fear and amplified existing stigma.
While HIV and AIDS remain a concern, medical advances and a better understanding of the virus have improved the outlook for those affected. HIV today is no longer a death sentence, with approximately 39 million people globally living with the virus in 2022.
Acceptance is a major theme in this episode. Acceptance is also the final stage of grief. While Yorkie’s family never accepted her after she came out and after her accident, Kelly struggles to accept her husband’s death and the end of their marriage, despite her enduring love for him.
Aging, loss, injustice, and differing viewpoints are all factors we must accept. While we may start with denial, anger, and depression, we can’t grow without eventually finding a way to accept and live with these realities.
In the 1980s, mental health issues were not openly accepted, and individuals facing such challenges were sometimes viewed as weak or even dangerous. People often believed that those with depression could overcome it by “cheering up” or “snapping out of it.”
In the same vein, conversion therapy, also known as “reparative therapy” or “ex-gay therapy” aims to change the sexual orientation of a person who identifies as LGBTQ. It was based on the belief that like being depressed, someone’s sexual orientation was a choice and could be “cured.”
There is evidence now to suggest that genetics may play a role. Studies of identical twins have shown a higher likelihood of shared sexual orientation compared to fraternal twins.
Today, while not universal, many LGBTQ individuals experience greater acceptance and support from their families and social circles, with same-sex marriage legally recognized in much of the Western world.
In 2000, Vermont became the first U.S. state to introduce civil unions for same-sex couples, offering legal recognition and benefits but not full marriage rights. It took four more years before Massachusetts made history by legalizing same-sex marriage, granting equal rights and privileges to same-sex couples.
But the war for acceptance still continues. In 2023, the battleground is the education system, where acceptance and inclusion are key to a new generation of LGBTQ feeling safe. Across North America, protestors and counter-protesters clashed at the steps of suburban elementary schools over the teachings of gender and sexual orientation. Should such topics be excluded from school curricula, leaving such education solely to parents? One side demands it. But what if those parents hold intolerant beliefs, similar to Yorkie’s parents? Where can children find support?
Approximately 41% of transgender individuals have reported attempting suicide at some point in their lives. Additionally, the suicide attempt rate among LGBTQ adults is nearly 12 times higher than that of the general population. The rise of social media has enabled us to share messages, raise awareness, and learn from others, but it has also made it more challenging to find contentment in our own lives due to constant comparisons. Research conducted by the Pew Research Center revealed that about 60% of social media users in the United States experience feelings of inadequacy when they see others’ posts showcasing their accomplishments.
Social media feeds are filled with idyllic depictions of flawless marriages, dream vacations, picture-perfect families, and enchanting love stories, creating an endless popularity contest. However, it is crucial to recognize that the notion of a flawless life is a fallacy; such flawlessness does not exist in the real world.
And that is something we need to accept.
Ghosted
During their dance, despite their contrasting personalities, Yorkie and Kelly share a joyful moment. However, when Yorkie becomes overwhelmed, she leaves the dance floor, and outside, Kelly makes a sexual proposition to her, to which Yorkie declines by telling her that she’s engaged.
The following week, Yorkie returns, and in the restroom, Kelly once again propositions her sexually. This time Yorkie accepts.
But on the third week, Kelly is nowhere to be found at Tucker’s. Yorkie searches for her at the Quagmire, a BDSM nightclub, and bumps into Wes, the man Kelly had been avoiding. Wes, like Yorkie, expected Kelly to adhere to their relationship, but it becomes evident that Kelly has chosen to avoid the pain and complexity of such commitments by ghosting them.
Ghosting, which involves suddenly cutting off communication without explanation, became more prevalent in the mobile dating app scene, often leaving users hurt and frustrated. This phenomenon is emblematic of modern dating culture, where the ease of online connection and reduced face-to-face interaction can lead to less personal and sometimes inconsiderate approaches to ending relationships.
According to a 2023 Forbes study, 76% of participants have experienced either ghosting or being ghosted in a dating context. Nearly 60% of individuals report having been ghosted, while 45% acknowledge ghosting someone else.
After their intimate night together, Kelly experiences complex emotions. Her initial encounter with Yorkie at the nightclub was more about enjoying the moment and having fun. While she has developed genuine feelings for Yorkie, she also grapples with her internal conflict.
According to Business of Apps, as of 2022, over 337 million people worldwide are using dating apps. And not all of them are necessarily looking for a soulmate.
The dating app market is nearly a $5 billion industry that caters to diverse needs. For instance, Grindr is there for the LGBTQ community, Bumble empowers women to initiate conversations, and OkCupid lets users specify their intentions, whether it’s casual flings, short-term dating, or long-term relationships.
Time was referenced often in this episode, and does indeed play a crucial role in relationships and life. The intense passion in the early stages of romance are evolutionary mechanisms to help individuals form connections and reproduce, but they typically fade as relationships mature, causing us to question whether they were real at all.
In San Junipero, at midnight, those who are trialing the platform must return to their physical bodies. This serves as a metaphor for how we must confront the physical and mental challenges that come with aging, as well as our capacity for love. Kelly’s hesitation in forming deep emotional connections is partly due to the guilt she carries from her years of devoted love to someone she lost. Letting go of that love is a daunting prospect for her.
Meanwhile, Yorkie sees being with Kelly as a chance to finally experience the richness of life and love that had been withheld from her in her previous existence.
In this way, to love each other is to let their past lives die.
People now have the freedom to choose their experiences and relationships. Apps like Tinder popularized the concept of swiping right to like or left to dislike profiles, turning the search for potential matches into a game.
However, the fundamental human experience remains unchanged. We still grapple with the passage of time, knowing that every decision we make and every opportunity we miss may come back to affect us. And so, it raises questions: What if there’s something better out there? What if we never find something as good again? Dating apps are games, where we create our own characters and hope that the chosen one leads to a happy ending.
Second Life or After Life
At the end of the episode, Kelly faces a significant choice. Her decision centers around joining her late husband and daughter in the afterlife or staying in San Junipero with Yorkie and embracing digital eternity.
The Internet has made the preservation of memories complicated. For those still alive, managing their digital legacy is a growing concern, and various apps and platforms help them plan the distribution of their digital assets and online accounts after their passing. Services like Everplans and Cake offer such support.
Some people may choose to leave more than assets and accounts behind. They want to create digital versions of themselves. Technologies like Replika, an AI chatbot, engage in conversations with users, preserving their thoughts and stories for future generations.
But the notion of permanent existence in another world raises questions not just for the afterlife but for our present lives. Many living individuals now opt to spend time in entertainment realms, where they can create avatars that reflect their personality more than their physical appearance. This mirrors Yorkie’s born-again experience, transformed by the Tucker technology.
One popular form of this digital second life is the game with the namesake: Second Life, where players create avatars and explore a user-generated 3D environment with various activities, from socializing to designing virtual items. As of 2022, there are 64.7 million active users on Second Life.
Online platforms provide safe spaces for people to explore and express their identities, and LGBTQ+ communities on social media, games, and apps have shown to offer support and acceptance.
While the hype for the Metaverse had simmered down for consumers, industries are still bullish about its potential. We see this with technology companies like Nvidia designing “digital twins”, a virtual representation of a physical object for use in constructing automobiles, infrastructure, energy, and more.
The Metaverse is not going away, despite companies like Disney and Microsoft shutting down projects. In 2023, we saw Apple joining the market by announcing their headset, Apple Vision Pro. While it may seem laughable that we would be wearing those giant goggles all day, tech companies are betting that soon people will buy in.
The hope is by then, governments and policymakers will have a better understanding of the regulatory and ethical aspects of the Metaverse, especially concerning digital identity, data privacy, and virtual economies.
This leads to the topic of a second life as an afterlife. While digital immortality is not yet possible, it sparks debates, especially around a speculative concept called mind uploading. This involves transferring a person’s mental state, including consciousness and memories, from a biological brain to a non-biological or digital form.
There are a number of companies already embarking on this venture, such as Nectome and Alcor Life Extension. But as of 2023, there doesn’t seem to be any advancement beyond preserving the bodies and brains of the deceased.
If mind uploading ever becomes possible, its development will hinge on scientific progress, societal acceptance, and ethical frameworks, making it a complex and multifaceted journey.
James Hughes, American sociologist and bioethicist, raises a fundamental question: “The pursuit of digital immortality opens up a realm of ethical concerns. Who owns the digital copies of our minds, and what rights do they have?”
San Junipero is an emotional ride. The episode beautifully explores themes of love, identity, and the nature of existence. It’s known for its captivating blend of nostalgia, romance, and thought-provoking questions about life and death in a digital age.
While rewatching this episode, I was surprised by how moved I got at the end. Perhaps now, I have gotten older. The past few years have revealed the potential bleakness of the world. Although I have made many commitments, the fear is not that time will stop, but that I may squander it by clinging to something fleeting.
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DNF. It stands for Did Not Finish. In a race, those three letters haunt all athletes. In the creative world, not finishing carries the same weight of shame.
For many of us, creativity is something we often have to pursue in our personal time. We may steal moments early in the morning or stay up late into the night to work on our creative projects. The specific goals of these endeavors aren’t as important as the fact that we consistently dedicate time to them, with a focus on long-term progress.
However, life can unexpectedly consume our days and nights. Work, personal commitments, and unforeseen opportunities may arise, and we need to seize them. When this happens, time can slip away, and even when we do find time, we may lack the energy.
When the pandemic began, my schedule opened up in a way I hadn’t experienced since my school days. I felt like I had ample time to dedicate to my projects, and I made the most of it. I made significant progress on my novel, invested more hours in my video creations, practiced illustrating and animating, and honed my audio recording skills. I pressed down on the accelerator for three years.
But at the end of 2022, I fell into a bit of a depression. Personal struggles and painful childhood memories resurfaced, and I realized that during my free time, I was mostly sitting in front of a computer. I was rather working or laboring on my creative projects. My mind wandered into dark places, and I began to lose touch with myself. While I was writing my stories, I was also rewriting my own history, and it wasn’t a happy one.
During my darkest moments, I believed the only way to escape the pain was to complete my creative work. But there’s no such thing as truly finishing your work. The goal is consistency, doing a bit each day. There’s no destination; the journey continues. My healthy creative habit had become distorted, and I expected something grand to emerge at the end.
There was a moment when I recognized I needed to step away from the computer. It wasn’t that I wanted to stop working on my projects, but I had to balance that intense effort with other aspects of my life, including confronting my troubled memories.
Around this time, I had also become quite inactive. I’d stopped playing hockey since the beginning of the pandemic, and I wasn’t sure where to go next. I love hockey, but it was a time-consuming sport with a rigid schedule. Additionally, as a goalie, it was one of the most stressful positions.
I needed something I could control, something I could pick up on my own terms. My wife is a marathon runner. And endurance sports intrigued me. Surely it was a better alternative than self-harm. But I’d convinced myself that I wasn’t an endurance athlete. I labeled myself a quitter, and that is the theme of this narrative.
There were many mornings when I woke up and my wife was already out for her run. She would be gone for hours on end. I wasn’t sure if I could do that. But still, I needed something to replace hockey. So I kept thinking. I might not want to run every day, but what about adding cycling and swimming to break the monotony? For a few weeks, I contemplated attempting a triathlon, even though I had minimal, negative experiences with running, cycling, and swimming in the past.
As I considered these new challenges, my old, self-limiting stories were retold over and over in my head. I told myself, “Look at all those bad experiences; you don’t want to do that. Plus, with your history of quitting, you’ll just give up anyway, so why start?”
The more I repeated those stories to myself, the more I realized before I could finish my projects, I needed to rewrite my life. What would the next ten years hold for me? Would I become a bitter writer, endlessly struggling at my desk and resenting my creative work? Or would I seek new experiences?
“Some writers who in their youth wrote wonderful, beautiful, powerful works find that when they reach a certain age exhaustion suddenly takes over. The term literary burnout is quite apt here. Their later works may still be beautiful, and their exhaustion might impart its own special meaning, but it’s obvious these writers’ creative energy is in a decline.
This results, I believe, from their physical energy not being able to overcome the toxin they’re dealing with. The physical vitality that up till now was naturally able to overcome the toxin has passed its peak, and its effectiveness in their immune systems is gradually wearing off. When this happens it’s difficult for a writer to remain intuitively creative.
The balance between imaginative power and the physical abilities that sustain it has crumbled. The writer is left employing the techniques and methods he has cultivated, using a kind of residual heat to mold something into what looks like a literary work—a restrained method that can’t be a very pleasant journey. Some writers take their own lives at this point, while others just give up writing and choose another.
If possible, I’d like to avoid that kind of literary burnout. My idea of literature is something more spontaneous, more cohesive, something with a kind of natural, positive vitality. For me, writing a novel is like climbing a steep mountain, struggling up the face of the cliff, reaching the summit after a long and arduous ordeal. You overcome your limitations, or you don’t, one or the other. I always keep that inner image with me as I write.”
Inspired, I bought a bike, got a community pool pass, and signed up for my first sprint triathlon.
I eased up on my creative projects and made room for training, which turned out to be a rejuvenating addition to my day. Knowing I had a run, bike ride, or swim to look forward to made sitting at my desk more bearable.
Creative writing, too, is like a triathlon – it involves writing, editing, and publishing— three different disciplines. I saw threes in everything. A story is structured with a beginning, middle, and end. I find all the metaphors in this sport reassuring. As if this was meant to be. By temporarily pausing my projects, I can reflect on my life, much like a swimmer surfaces from the water to sight where he is going and where he has come from.
Creativity is so subjective. There are no clear winners or losers. There are no rankings you can compare with others. And I think that is a blessing.
While I do need to be evaluated and ranked to feel some sense of accomplishment, I don’t have to put that burden on my creative work. I can put that on something a little more objective — like athletics. My competitive energy, I can direct towards my sports. My creative energy, I can protect and keep for my art. While this spreads my energy across a wider surface of my time, I’m also happier this way. This is the new story of my life. I don’t have to be a writer locked up in a room, hammering away at a manuscript that maybe nobody will read and feel angry about it. I can write freely. And then go run freely.
I do feel guilty for not dedicating as much time to my projects as I did last year, similar to the guilt I feel for not spending more time with friends, or the guilt I feel for not having travelled to Japan yet. However, I remind myself that this guilt is just a story as well.
We are on a journey of healing, much like climbing a mountain or training for a race. Every day, we confront our limitations, whether we’re writing or standing at the starting line. Guilt is a toxin that can deplete our energy, so we must incorporate various disciplines in our lives to keep it at bay, enabling us to focus on what matters.
I might not be great at everything I do, but with this mindset, I’m able to do more and keep at it. I’m not going to be a professional athlete and I might not be the next best seller. But nobody can stop me from trying. I pursue it all now little by little. My athletic triathlon and my creative triathlon. Each time I sit down to write, I’m excited. Each time I go out to swim, bike or run, I’m energized.
The dread of the DNF is gone. Because finishing is no longer the goal.
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Writing requires stamina. Writing requires endurance. Often used interchangeably, these two words have slightly different meanings. And it is in these two different meanings that we can gain a new perspective on how we approach our creative work.
So what’s the difference?
To call on your stamina, you’ll need to be working at max exertion or towards muscle/mental failure for as long as possible. Endurance, however, is more about how long you can perform a certain activity, regardless of its intensity.
When talking about stamina, it often means you’re working within a time limit, and to hit the deadline you are working as hard as you can. If the project needs to be sent or submitted at some point, then you must call on your mental stamina to get it done.
Mental stamina is our capacity to maintain focus, concentration, and mental clarity during demanding tasks or activities that require sustained mental effort. This can include studying, problem-solving, or engaging in complex projects like writing a short story or novel.
When you enter yourself in a writing contest or NaNoWriMo—National Novel Writing Month, where the goal is to write 50,000 words in a month—you need the stamina so that you can meet that time. If you don’t submit your work by the deadline or hit the word count by the end of the month, then you’re not yet in the right condition to tackle high-pressure projects, and some more training is required.
The more you build up your stamina the better you’ll be at getting a project to the finish line. Stamina is essential.
But what about endurance?
Endurance refers to the length of time in which a person can perform a certain activity, regardless of the intensity because it’s measuring the prolonged effort over an extended period. You can keep working on it without getting overly fatigued. Well-paced endurance could last a lifetime.
If you are building a career as a writer, you need to have endurance. You need to be able to go from one story to another and write one series after another. Endurance doesn’t happen fast. It requires you to build a base and establish a habit over many months and years. The more regularly you write, the more endurance you’ll acquire.
You need stamina to run one marathon. You need endurance to be a marathon runner for life. And that’s how we should think of writing as well. You need stamina to polish a short story and submit it before a deadline. You need endurance to build a collection that keeps readers coming back.
Stamina gives you the speed and urgency to finish a piece of work, that way you don’t spend the rest of your life with a mountain of unfinished projects. However, you don’t want to burn out or bury yourself either, so you need to build your endurance too. Endurance allows you to establish a proper rhythm so that you can continue working after each milestone that way rest and recovery don’t mean quitting forever.
With all that said, you’ll need two different types of projects. You need your shorter projects whether they be writing contests or creative writing courses, where you can do sprints and develop your stamina. These will allow you to determine how long certain projects will take you. Think of it like a race or a game. Participate in competitions, and events, or find a job that requires you to finish something on time. These are opportunities to get your work polished and in front of people. After all, learning to get readers is something you need to practice.
Then you should have bigger, more ambitious projects. These are life works. These are magnus opus. These will define you as a creative. Whatever it is: make it big. A big novel. A series. An epic. Keep working on it until it’s fully polished. Don’t rush it. Allow yourself to escape to it. Allow it to grow at its own pace. Endure the times when it gets hard. There will be many. Work on it a little every day, if not every day, every other day. If not every other day, as often as possible. But to truly build endurance, I recommend you try not to skip more than two days. Commit to it. Endure. It will all pay off.
Writing requires stamina. Without it, you won’t be able to push yourself to finish. Writing requires endurance. Without it, you will always feel desperate to finish. No matter what you are working on, having stamina and endurance gives you the mental and physical strength to enjoy the process. It will be hard. It will be pain. But in many ways, that’s all there is. So you must have the stamina and endurance to get through it. Good luck!
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I’m currently working on a trilogy, and I’m well into the first draft of book 3.
I don’t usually outline my stories. And when I wrote the first drafts of book 1 and 2, as you may recall from these articles, I pants them… hard.
I see myself as a discovery writer. I have outlined in the past, but I don’t particularly like relying on it to write, because I find that it often creates restrictions in my workflow and I can’t be as fluid. I have to keep checking in on the outline to make sure I didn’t skip any key detail.
So why did I decide to outline this time?
Honestly, I don’t have much time these days to work on my creative projects. And with only a short amount of time available each day—like 3 to 4 sessions a week—I didn’t want to wait for inspiration to strike. With an outline, I can see where I left off and get straight to work on creating scenes, figuring out what happens next, or writing dialogues.
At least, that was my plan. But outlines are hard to follow and all it takes is for me to make one change and like pulling out a Jenga piece from the bottom, the whole tower is shaky and if I make too many changes, the whole thing collapses, rendering the outline useless.
Right now, I’ve completed nearly half of the first draft, and what I’m noticing is that, yes, I’m making changes. The specifics about the characters and events are definitely shifting from the outline. However, I also have a clear idea of where the story should ultimately lead. So, even if I veer away from what I initially planned, it’s not a problem. I can take detours, explore new ideas, be creative, enjoy the process, and eventually return to the important story beats I need to include.
For instance, I need my character to return to his hometown to kick off the second part of the story and then participate in a big battle during the third part. I have a good sense of the crucial scenes that need to happen between those points, but the way I choose to write those scenes is where I have room to experiment without feeling restricted by the outline.
That’s precisely what the outline provides me with. If I were journeying across the globe, the outline would represent all the flights I must catch in between destinations. What I do once I touch down is subject to change, but eventually, I’ll need to return to the airport and catch my next flight. The outline serves as my travel itinerary, not the schedule for every day of the trip.
I’m not particularly fond of using outlines, but I do need to bring this project to a conclusion at some point. By having the outline, I’m aware of the destinations I must reach to ultimately wrap this up. Now, if you’ve been keeping up with my progress, you’d be aware that I’m taking my time with this endeavor. But even though I’m not in a rush, it doesn’t mean I lack the desire to finish. During a journey, there comes a moment when you feel an urge to leave the beach and embark on a different activity. That’s where the outline comes into play. It tells me that I’ve lingered here too long and it’s time to get going to the next scene.
This is how I keep myself from getting too frustrated when I deviate from my outline. I don’t discard it entirely; I still find value in using it. Its central elements are what I require. I’m free to modify scenes as much as I want, but I must hit those key plot points. The crucial thing is staying on track to hit those points. I’m in control. I can always guide my story back on course even if I stray off it.
That’s where I stand currently. I’m exploring as I work on the first draft of book three. I’m mostly enjoying this drafting process for the final time in this trilogy, because after this step, there’s going to be a lot of editing ahead. As much as I’m anticipating that phase, the first draft has always been the part I’ve enjoyed the most. This is another reason why the outline holds significance. It will push me beyond my comfort zone to see it through.
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Elliot Chan 