I’m always in front of a screen, cycling through tabs, the routine thoughts, the familiar exhaustion. This time of year doesn’t help either… the days are shorter… but it doesn’t slow down, there is still so much to do. I could feel myself slipping into that familiar seasonal fog.
Deep down, I knew what I needed. I needed a camping trip. I haven’t taken one for almost 10 years now. And it felt exactly the medicine to just reboot my system. I’ve been fall camping before, and I really enjoyed it, so I thought I would do it again. There are a lot of benefits, fewer insects, no fire bans, and of course, fewer people.
So I purchased new gear, connected with my buddy, Tyler (you might know him as Daunt1355 on the Internet), and we made it happen.
The moment we arrived, it felt like stepping out of one world and into another. Setting up camp felt like letting my nervous system reboot. No notifications. No pressure.
We wandered a bit after settling in. Nothing intense — just enough movement to shake the static out of my head. It’s wild how simply walking in the woods can untangle thoughts that screens only make tighter.
That night, the fire did what fires do. It pulled my attention in without demanding anything from me. No algorithms, no skip ads, no endless scroll. Humans have been staring into flames far longer than we’ve been staring into screens, and I could feel the overstimulation draining out.
The next night, the rain came in. But somehow, it felt right. It made things interesting. Like the world reminding me to embrace the discomfort, the little inconveniences, the natural mess. And weirdly… it was exactly what I needed.
In the end, this trip reminded me that getting away isn’t just about escaping screens — it’s about stepping out of the entire rhythm of responsibility for a moment. The goals, the deadlines, the routines, the pressure to always be moving toward something… it all adds up. And sometimes you don’t realize how heavy it’s gotten until you take it off.
Out here, everything was stripped down to the essentials: sleep, food, shelter, fire.
I wasn’t rushing to cook dinner so I could get back to work. I wasn’t jumping between tasks. I wasn’t measuring my day by progress. Time stopped feeling like something I had to manage, and started feeling like something I could simply experience. There’s a joy in losing track of time. In not being in a hurry. In letting the day unfold without a schedule or a goal attached to it.
We didn’t go far. We didn’t stay long.
But this emergency camping trip was the reset I’d been needing. A reminder that you can’t prevent burnout while staring at a screen. Sometimes all you need is a couple of nights in the cold to find your way back to yourself.
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Skydiving was something I always wanted to do. And this summer with the encouragement of my mother. We went and did it.
It was a lot of fun, and the best way for me to describe that experience was that it’s like a dream, where you wake up and you still have fragments of that memory, and you are just trying to piece it all together and feel that same feeling again. I definitely see how it can be addictive.
I felt pretty calm the whole time. The night before, I fell asleep listening to a podcast about D-Day and about how the paratroopers had to drop into France in the dead of night. I found that to be quite comforting as it allowed me to put that into perspective and come to terms with my own courage and how I’m doing it recreationally and not dropping into a war zone.
My approach when it comes to doing something stressful like that, whether it’s bungee jumping or skydiving, is to turn my brain off. Once you do that, you just remember what you have to do. This is actually really easy for me, because as a job, I’m a marketing strategist. So I spend a lot of time during the workday thinking about things. A lot of things.
So when I get an opportunity to turn off my brain, I enjoy it. When I get an opportunity, to follow some simple instructions like once the door to the airplane opens, pull your leg over, and just hang there. That’s easy. So yeah.
Once I got flung out and into the free fall, that was a rush. It’s very windy, and the world feels so distorted and strange — it doesn’t even seem real. That’s the biggest difference from bungee jumping, because when you’re bungee jumping, the world comes right at you, and that feeling of plummeting toward the ground is so real and raw. When you’re falling from 10,000 feet, you don’t get that same experience.
When I was bungee jumping, especially when it’s your first time, my instincts just took over, and I started reaching out and grabbing things to stop myself, but there is obviously nothing. Doing that kind of pulled me off balance, and as you can see, I got twisting out of control. So fun.
So yeah, back to skydiving. You’re just free-falling for a few seconds — probably between 10 and 30 — not long, before the parachute deploys. And that’s such a relief. It’s kind of the same feeling as when the bungee cord catches you and you don’t splat on the ground. There aren’t many feelings like that in life, so that was great.
From this point on, the experience is actually quite similar between skydiving and bungee jumping. You get this second ride — a second experience. With bungee jumping, you’re bouncing up and down, and the second bounce is almost as high as the first drop. That’s great because now you know the cord will hold you. With skydiving, it’s more like sightseeing — I was just trying to soak it all in.
But what really made me want to do it again was that my tandem partner, the instructor, gave me the handle to control the parachute, letting me steer. I didn’t know how to do it properly, but when you really pulled on it, it felt like a rollercoaster drop — you get swung sideways and really feel the Gs. That was awesome, and I would love to feel that again. I don’t get to go on too many rollercoasters these days, but that was incredible.
When it comes down to it, skydiving and bungee jumping often get clumped together, but they’re actually very different experiences. I’d say if you really want that “I’m going to die” feeling, bungee jumping is for you. I’ve done bungee jumping both forward and backward, and I’d recommend going forward so you can see the world coming at you — although backward is really scary too.
If you want more of a rollercoaster ride, then go skydiving. I don’t know if I can explain it any better.
Both are so much fun, and I recommend giving both a try it’s so worth it!
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We adopted Petey about nine months ago, and at the time, we weren’t sure if he’d ever be stable enough to travel with us. The shelter warned us that because of his fear, he might never even manage a walk in the park—his anxiety around dogs and kids was that severe.
But little by little, he surprised us. First, he stopped barking at every sound in the neighborhood. Then he quit chewing our blankets and pillows. Eventually, he began to enjoy walks and car rides. Sure, he still gets spooked by the occasional dog, but now he can be redirected—something that felt impossible in those first three months.
Petey has proven not only the shelter wrong, but also shown us just how smart and loving he really is. Underneath his trauma, there’s a sweet, capable dog. We know that if we keep nudging him forward, he’ll grow into the great dog we believe he can be.
So, with that in mind, we decided it was time for Petey’s first trip: Pender Island, one of the Gulf Islands off Vancouver Island. His first ferry ride. His first hotel stay. His first night away from home.
Would he rise to the challenge—or would the stress unravel everything?
We packed early, making sure to bring along his donut bed and blanket for comfort. Because my wife and I get anxious about travel too, we gave ourselves a big buffer. While we waited, we walked Petey around Tsawwassen Mills Mall. Everything was closed, but it helped burn off his energy.
We lucked out and squeezed onto an earlier ferry, saving ourselves two hours. The catch: we were the last car on, parked at an incline that made the ride a bit shaky. Petey struggled at first—barking whenever I left the car, jittery on walks near other dogs. The dog deck was a non-starter. So we stayed with him in the back seat until he finally settled down for a nap.
At last, the ferry docked at Otter Bay on Pender Island. Our first stop was Hope Bay, where we barely stepped out before an off-leash dog came trotting over. Friendly or not, it would’ve set Petey off, so we ducked down to the water’s edge and enjoyed the view from a safe distance.
Next, we checked out the island’s main junction—a bakery, liquor store, and a few restaurants. It seemed to be the hub of Pender, and just about everyone had a dog. Normally that would’ve been great, but with Petey, it made things tricky. We barely left the car.
We grabbed food to go. And drove until we found some peace at Magic Lake. There, on a quiet bench with no dogs in sight, we ate our sandwiches and drank our coffee while Petey anxiously sniffed around the tall grass.
From there, we drove to Mortimer Spit, a narrow strip of land between the two parts of Pender. The roads were rough, but the unique views were worth it—it ended up being my favorite spot. Petey seemed to enjoy it too.
His favorite, however, was the Enchanted Forest Park. Quiet, shaded trails, no other dogs—a perfect first real hike for him. He loved it, though by then he was exhausted; apart from a short ferry nap, he’d been going non-stop.
We tried checking into our hotel early, but our room wasn’t ready. So we drove to Gowlland Point, a rocky beach at the southeastern tip. The scenery was stunning, but it was hard to enjoy with Petey on high alert. Dogs, people, and one overly confident old man who couldn’t believe any dog wouldn’t like him—none of it helped.
Finally, we made it to our hotel, Poet’s Cove Resort, right on the water. Getting Petey inside was rough—an off-leash dog greeted us at the door, setting him off. If it wasn’t for that dog, I think Petey could have done much better. I have thoughts on off-leash dogs, for sure, especially when their owners aren’t able to call them back. Alas, we can’t control other people.
Anyways, once in the room, he relaxed. He bounced around the bed, explored the new space, and slowly grew more comfortable when I had to step out. We give him a C plus. A pass, but also a lot of room for improvement.
The resort itself was wonderful: a balcony with ocean views, a restaurant kind enough to pack meals to go, and even a deep bathtub that made up for skipping the crowded pool and hot tub. We ended the evening quietly in the room. Petey curled up on his donut bed and later snuggled with us like he always does.
The trip wasn’t easy. Without him, it would’ve been simpler, maybe even more relaxing—but it wouldn’t have been the same. He wasn’t perfect; his triggers are still there. But compared to the scared dog we brought home last December, he was unrecognizable.
And the biggest surprise came after. Back home, he was calmer. During the workday, instead of chewing things for attention, he started napping peacefully by our side. The trip gave him a boost of confidence—and for that alone, it was worth it.
As for Pender Island? It’s small, hilly, and full of bees. Beautiful, yes, and we saw most of it in one trip. I’m not sure we’ll rush back, but it will always be special: the first place Petey traveled, something we never thought possible.
I can’t wait for more trips with him. He’s a smart, stubborn little guy—and while he’s still a bit crazy, I wouldn’t bet against him becoming the good boy we always knew he could be.
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A 12-kilometer ride, 700 meters of climbing, and a race I wasn’t totally sure I was ready for.
I parked, got my gear sorted, tried to settle my nerves. I’ve been training, sure—but that question kept echoing: Did I do enough? You never really know until you’re out there.
Before the climb even started, I had to descend. And honestly? That part freaked me out.
I hadn’t practiced much. Thirty minutes of descending wasn’t something I’d ever done, and I really felt it in my hands—worried that I’d pull the brakes too hard and go over the handlebars, or just lose control and go careening off the road.
I kept coming back to this piece of advice I heard once—that descending is all mental. And if you want to enjoy it, just say it out loud: I love descending!
So I did. Over and over, like a mantra.
Then a deer crossed the road in front of me. And you know, from that point on, I did love descending.
The start line park was beautiful that morning—clear views of the water and UBC. Hard to believe I’d been riding over there just a week ago.
Around me, riders were quietly doing their own prep. I had some cramping from the descent, so I used the time to walk it off and stretch.
Now, all that was left was to wait for the race to begin.
I lined up at the back of the under-one-hour group.
It felt ambitious.
I’ve never done a timed hill climb like this before, but something in me wanted to see what was possible. Worst case, I’d blow up. Best case? I’d surprise myself.
When the race started, I settled into a pace that felt manageable.
Not easy, not hard—just steady.
I reminded myself: it’s a long climb. No need to burn out early.
The first half went by smoother than I expected.
But after that midpoint sign? Everything changed.
My legs started screaming. The road felt longer. The crowd thinned out.
I just kept chipping away. This was the part I wasn’t sure if I was prepared for.
So I stopped thinking about the finish.
I picked a rider ahead of me and just… followed.
Not racing them—just borrowing their rhythm.
It gave my mind something to hold onto while my body kept grinding.
I kept glancing down at my new bike computer.
I’ve got my watch, but this was different.
Just like those Form swim goggles I used in my last swim race—something about seeing numbers helps me get through the pain.
Weirdly, watching the distance barely tick forward made it easier.
I wasn’t moving fast. But I was moving.
And somehow, I made it!
Gun time: 59:59.
I laughed when I saw it. One second to spare.
I have a knack for coming really close to the wire with my finishes—having completed a few run races with just a second over the minute. I don’t really know what this says about me. But I don’t mind it.
Getting to the top felt incredible.
Not just because it was hard. Not just because I hit the time.
But because it reminded me: this is only the beginning.
There’s a whole world of rides, challenges, and climbs ahead.
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This summer is flying by. Honestly, this whole year is. Sometimes it feels like my life is flashing before my eyes. Most days are just the same routine: wake up, work, sit at a computer, eat, sleep. The days tick by, and it’s kind of terrifying.
There’s not much we can do to stop time. We’re all getting older—it’s just something we have to accept. But while that’s inevitable, there is a way to make life feel more alive: do something new. So today, I’m doing exactly that. I’m cycling up Burnaby Mountain to SFU.
SFU’s one of my favorite spots in the Lower Mainland. I’ve always had good memories here. I was never a student, but back in the day, I’d come up just to take advantage of the student bar discounts. Like I said—good memories. And today feels like a mix of nostalgia and preparation for something ahead.
This ride is part of my training for a challenge I’ve set for myself in two weeks: the Cypress Challenge. SFU sits at the top of a mountain, but compared to Cypress, it’s only a quarter of the climb. So while today’s ride is a decent workout, it’s just a warm-up for what’s coming.
Time’s moving fast, and I never seem to have enough of it. Cycling, as a hobby, takes a lot of time—and long four-hour rides have been hard to squeeze in lately. My training’s been compact, and today’s ride is no exception. Still, I wanted to get at least a few climbs in before the big day. And this one counts.
I’m a small guy, which helps on climbs, but that doesn’t make them easy. Still, I love the challenge. I like the suffering. I like how it becomes a mental game. Being on a bike, knowing that if you stop, you lose momentum—it creates this pressure that somehow invigorates me. Climbing a mountain on a bike reminds me that I’m alive.
Time’s rushing past. Relatives are dying. Friends are having babies. Everyone seems too busy to do anything anymore. So the fact that I made it out here today, that I’m climbing this mountain—it feels like a small metaphor for surviving in the modern world. You work, you sweat, you push yourself to reach the top… only to come back down.
That’s endurance sports. That’s creative work. That’s life.
I’m cycling the Cypress Challenge to raise funds for pancreatic cancer research. Thanks to everyone who donated—I really appreciate it. Together, we’ve raised over $1,000. Thank you so much.
Now… let’s ride up SFU and look ahead to Cypress. I’m still here. I’m not on my deathbed yet. How do I know? Because there are still memories left to make. Life hasn’t fully flashed before my eyes—not yet.
Today is one week before the Cypress Challenge—a 700-meter climb up one of Vancouver’s North Shore mountains. It’s a charity ride for pancreatic cancer, and when I signed up, I knew I’d have to start finding some hills to train on.
Last week, I climbed SFU. This week, I went to another university I’m not enrolled in—UBC.
UBC is a bit of a labyrinth. Every time I ride here, I get a little lost. But that’s part of the fun. I’ve found a couple of climbs I really enjoy around this area, and those are what I tackled today.
Honestly, training for this ride has become more than just preparation—it’s been an excuse to get out the door. An invitation to explore places I wouldn’t normally go. I’ve ridden to beaches I would visit otherwise, through neighborhoods I’ve never passed, down roads I didn’t know connected.
Lately, travel’s felt far away—too expensive, too time-consuming, too complicated. But every time I throw a leg over my bike, it feels like a little trip. A brief escape from whatever’s waiting on my laptop or buzzing on my phone.
Training gives my days structure. A shape. And even when I’m tired, even when the hill ahead looks brutal, I’m glad for it—because it means I get to go somewhere.
It’s not just about the Cypress climb next week. It’s about all the quiet victories along the way—the early mornings, the sore legs, the new routes, the accidental detours.
And maybe most of all, it’s about showing up. For myself. For this cause. For the people who are climbing much harder mountains than I ever will on a bike.
So yeah—today was another ride, another climb. But it also felt like a reminder: I’m lucky I get to do this. I’m lucky training pushes me to try, to move, to explore.
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I’m Elliot, a writer and marketer. Two years ago, I found myself recovering from the doldrums of the pandemic, living a very sedentary life. I knew I needed a change, so I started doing triathlons.
This year, thanks to a fortunate scheduling quirk, we planned a trip to Italy for the week immediately after finishing my 8-week training plan in anticipation for my first olympic distance race. This timing perfectly aligns with my preparation, more specifically my tapering and carb loading week.
If you’re unfamiliar with these concepts, here’s a quick rundown:
Tapering is all about giving your body time to rest and recover from the fatigue of intense training. While it’s important to maintain optimal fitness, continuing training right up until the race can leave you too exhausted to perform at your best. Typically, endurance athletes will taper for a few days to a few weeks, depending on the distance and difficulty of their race.
Carb loading focuses on ensuring that your body is well-nourished to handle the effort required on race day. Without delving into the science, carbs or carbohydrates are stored as an energy source known as glycogen in your muscles, and the more carbs you consume before the race, the more glycogen your muscles can store. Simply put, these extra carbs help sustain your energy throughout the race.
And you know what Italy is known for right?
Pasta! Pizza! Pastries! Carbs!
So, the plan was set! I made a list of all the carbs I wanted to eat and off we went. In this video, I’m going to share my experience carb loading in Italy and answer an important question: Is traveling during taper week a good idea?
Now! Let’s head to Italy.
One day after my final workout, we woke up at the crack of 3 am and skipped off to the airport.
After a 15 hour travel day, we arrived the next morning in Rome.
Our plan is to spend 2 days in Rome and 3 days in a villa in Assisi, and then one more night in Rome before travelling back to Vancouver just in time for 2 days to rest and prep before the big race. While the main purpose of this trip is to attend our friends’ wedding, the second purpose of this trip is to taper and carb load. So my goal was to eat as much as I could.
The general math is that while carb loading, you should consume 8-10g of carbs per kg of body weight per day. That means, I should aim to consume around 330-460 grams of carbs per day for the first 3 days of the trip and then increase to 530-660 grams of carbs per day for the next 3. That sounds like a lot!
Now, I’m going to do my best to add up all the carb heavy meals I had, and omit any dishes that I don’t think have that much carbs, just to keep things simple. On top of that, it’s important to note that I’m just grabbing a general estimate. None of this should be taken as science. I repeat! I am not a scientist. Or a chef. And some of the food, I’m not even sure what the names are. So yeah! That’s the kind of video this is. You’ve been warned.
With that aside, let’s get to it.
Pasta Amatriciana
Day 1:
My Italian adventure kicked off with a delightful lunch of Pasta Amatriciana, packing in 85 grams of carbs. The whole reason we went to this specific restaurant in the Jewish Ghetto neighbourhood was to try one of the famous Jewish artichokes, adding 4 grams. Of course, I washed it all down with a refreshing beer, contributing 26 grams. It was good to know that beer has more carbs than wine!
Dessert was our first of many gelato, offering 42 grams of carbs.
All’AnticoVinaio
On the way back to the hotel, I grabbed one of these world-famous Italian sandwiches from a popular place called All’Antico Vinaio, which added another 46 grams of carbs. We went back to our hotel for a quick nap to recover from the travel and the food before trudging out again to enjoy the evening.
For dinner, I had a Carbonara (85 grams of carbs), shared half a tiramisu with my wife (17 grams), another beer (26 grams), and a second round of gelato (42 grams).
Day 1 Total: I was nice and full and had managed to hit my target carb intake for the day. 347g Can I do it again tomorrow?
Maritozzi
Day 2:
The next morning started with a traditional Roman breakfast: a Maritozzi pastry (23 grams of carbs), a cappuccino (4 grams), and some biscuits (12 grams).
For lunch, I opted for Spaghetti alle Vongole, spaghetti with clams (85 grams), accompanied by an obligatory beer (26 grams) and finished it off with gelato in a cone (51 grams).
Trapizzino
Later, we meandered over to the Trastevere neighbourhood, and I got one of the famous Trapizzino (46 grams), a delightful pizza pocket.
Then we went for a long, hot walk to the Vatican and through some wonderful Renaissance piazzas before arriving back in our hotel for another nap.
Cacio e Pepe
Dinner was another pasta feast with a Roman classic, Cacio e Pepe (82 grams), which was probably the best pasta I had in Italy so far. I also got another beer (26 grams) for the carbs specifically, and half a burrata (1 gram), which was just—dare I say it?—heavenly. Of course, I ended the day with more gelato (42 grams), which also happened to be the best gelato I had in Italy so far. An evening of bests! But how did I do on the carb loading? Let’s check the tally.
Day 2 Total: A day well spent with plenty of pasta and carbs, I consumed 398g! Well within the range. Celebrate! But the next day, carbs may be harder to come by.
Day 3:
Our travel day to Assisi started with a quick breakfast of a cream-filled croissant (25 grams), cappuccino (4 grams), half a meringue (8 grams), and half a cookie (10 grams) before we headed off to the train station.
All and all, it was a five hour journey from Rome to Assisi.
Upon arriving at the villa for the wedding, dinner was a BBQ affair. Unfortunately, it wasn’t very carb-heavy, but I did enjoy some bread (14 grams), two beers (52 grams), wine (3.8 grams), and a tiramisu (32 grams). After dinner, we did discover these Nutella cookies (36 grams) and Focaccia flavored Pringles (4 grams).
Day 3 Total: Carbs were a bit sparse, and even with the extra snacking, I missed my mark this day with only 188.8g. To be expected, but all is good. More meals to come.
Day 4:
Today, our wedding party had plans to explore the town of Assisi.
Before heading out, I had some room bread with jam (56 grams).
Then while touring the town, I, of course, had to grab a gelato (42 grams) to get a little pick me up from being on my best behavior in the church.
We continued our tour, got caught in the rain and then we took a break to grab some lunch.
Lunch featured a Prosciutto Sandwich (45.5 grams) and finally, some sort of craft beer aka not Perronis (26 grams). More gelato followed (42 grams), I was getting adventurous with this one — I literally got licorice flavor, and you know what… It’s pretty good! Forgive me, I have sinned.
Before we returned to the villa, we enjoyed a glass of wine (3.8 grams), focaccia bread (21 grams), some salty meat and cheese (which probably had little to no carbs, but was so good) and a macchiato (1 gram).
Gnocchi
Dinner was the highlight of the evening that started with a gnocchi-making class where we then got to enjoy our creation (156 grams), I washed that down with a beer (26 grams).
For dessert, I tried Zuppa Inglese (34 grams) which is like trifle, and if you’re like me and you don’t know what trifle is… well, it’s a thing of little value or importance. We stayed up late this night, watched the lightning storm roll in and out, and I stayed up for about an hour extra alone in the kitchen, snacking on Nutella (21g), jam (13g) and Fetta Dorate (39 grams), which are these melba toast things.
Day 4 Total: An excellent day of eating, there seemed to be a little of everything and it all tallied up to 526.3g. Mission accomplished! Well, for this day at least.
Day 5:
Today is a big day! The wedding day!
The morning started with cappuccino (4 grams) and biscuits (12 grams). The groom’s father treated us to a variety of Middle Eastern sweets (40 grams).
Lunch included two ham sandwiches (96 grams) and a beer (26 grams). Not sure about the science of carb loading with beer, but I wonder if all the alcohol may have negative effects on my race. I guess we’ll never know.
Then, we had the wedding and afterwards, I snacked on some Hors D’oeuvre (28g)
Finally, we sat down for the wedding dinner, which included a couple of Arancinis (10.8 grams), bread (14 grams), Farro Salad (35.5 grams), Risotto (54 grams), and potatoes (9 grams). There was also a meat dish there as well. It was really good, but sadly, no carbs, so we don’t need to talk about it any further.
Mille Feuille Cake
For dessert, there was this really awesome Mille Feuille (18.5 grams) cake.
Day 5 Total: Yes, while I did consume 346.8g of carbs one must believe that I burned all of it off on the dance floor that night… and let’s not forget an impromptu workout session that… might have been detrimental to my tapering. One will find out later.
Day 6:
Well, our stay at the villa is over.
After a final breakfast of beans (10 grams), pita (16 grams), baklava (14.5 grams), and what I believe is called basbousa (20 grams), we caught the train back to Rome.
The funny thing about traveling in Italy is that you never really know how long a journey will take. What we expected to be a 3 hour direct ride back to the city, ended up taking over 5 hours thanks to some delays and a mid-ride train switch half way through. So… we didn’t get back into Rome until late that evening.
Still we made the most of our last night, and I did all I could do to load up on carbs in just one meal.
Anchovy Pizza
Dinner in Rome was a carb-lover’s dream with a beer (26 grams), Anchovy Pizza (99 grams), Suppli (34.4 grams), and Pasta Marinara (98 grams). Of course, I capped it off with gelato (42 grams).
Day 6 Total: An excellent final night of indulgence before heading back home gave me a total of 359.9g
Day 7: Farewell to Italy
And just like that.. Our Italian trip was over. It’s time to say goodbye to the humidity and the old stuff, and return to Vancouver.
But not before we had one last breakfast. Our last morning in Italy included a cappuccino (4 grams) and a cream-filled donut (58 grams).
At the airport, I enjoyed a final Italian meal: half a croquette (3.9 grams), half an arancini (2.7 grams), pizza (50 grams), and lasagna (35 grams). For the flight, I had a chocolate croissant (33 grams) and half a donut (20 grams), with additional pasta onboard (49 grams).
And let’s not forget about the A&W burger (35g) and fries (54g) I got during layover.
Day 7 Total: It was a sweet ending to my Italian adventure, giving me a total of 344.6g. Although the last few days in transit made it hard to get all the carbs in… it doesn’t change the fact that when I did get some carbs in, it was delicious.
Italy turned out to be a great trip, but I did return real sore and tired. I’m really thankful for the extra day of rest before the race. Do I recommend going to Italy for a taper/carb loading experience? Yes! But you should actually plan out the meals a little better than I did. And make sure you also have a few more days to rest.
Of course, once I got home, I was able to fill up a bit more and spend the whole day Saturday recovering before getting my race package and dropping off my bike on Sunday.
Could I be more rested and carbed up? Yes, I could. But I could also say the same about training and pretty much every factor of my preparation. Life is life, and I’m as good as I am going to be.
So… here it comes… the race.
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By Elliot Chan, Opinions Editor
Formerly published in The Other Press. March 9, 2016
There were no flowery floats, high-tempo samba music, or scantily clad performers this year. For Brazilians, the cancelation of the world-famous, multi-day, nationwide street festival known as Carnival must have felt as though someone pulled the plug on Christmas.
The announcement that many Brazilian cities would be putting a hold on the celebration, which traditionally ends on Ash Wednesday, must have been disappointing, but not completely surprising. It seemed like an easy decision; after all, when you are sick and broke, the last thing you would want to do is invite everybody over for a party, right?
Brazil is currently caught in one of the worst recessions in decades. With declining tax revenues and the Zika outbreak, over 40 towns and cities have decided to spend the money annually spent on the parade on resources such as new ambulances. Nobody can deny the value of medical services, but with approximately eight per cent of all employment in the country based around tourism and travel—nearly the same amount as unemployment—the absence of Carnival will undoubtedly take another big bite out of Brazil’s fast-shrinking gross domestic product.
Around the world, Brazil has a particular image: party host. In the past few years, Brazil had won bids to host the 2014 FIFA World Cup and the 2016 Summer Olympics. This led to liberal spending from the government, with the World Cup alone costing an estimated $14 billion. That’s a lot of ambulances. See, what ended up happening was that the country priced itself so high that only wealthy tourists can afford the luxury—and Brazil makes sure tourist are wealthy with their travel visa qualification process.
Now, it’s not the World Cup or Olympics that are causing Brazil’s economic downfall. There are a number of reasons, including corrupted political parties and energy companies, inflation in commodities, and the fact that the economy of China, one of their leading exporters, is also slowing down.
What’s happening with Brazil is something every country can learn from—heck, it’s something every person can learn from.
It seemed like yesterday Brazil was touted as one of the fastest growing economies in the world. Not only did its continent ride on its back, but the world as well. The spotlight was on Brazil, and at a time when any wise government would have taken a step back and assessed the whole situation, the Brazilian government did not. It turned to greed rather than insurance. Instead of solving problems close to home—poverty, crime, employment—it, like a drunken frat boy, took one drink after another until he needed a friend to call his parents to drive him home.
The Brazilian power rose too high, they partied too hard, and they got too greedy. Now, they have to forgo a traditional event that their own citizens cherish. It’s sad to see such a rapid fall from grace, but I guess that’s often how a hangover feels. One moment you are on top of the world, booming. The next, you are waking up with the realization that your economy is now a bust.
There is a time to celebrate, and there is a time to pay it forward and invest within. There needs to be a balance. To keep partying, you’ll need to stay healthy—and wealthy. I love Brazil, and I hope I get to celebrate there again soon.
By Elliot Chan, Opinions Editor
Formerly published for the 1976-themed issue of the Other Press. January 13, 2016
A few years ago, my mother’s side of the family emigrated to Canada, France, and the United States from their home country, which had been torn apart by the Vietnam War, in the hope of starting a new life. So here I am now. What my family went through must have been tumultuous and frightening. Hopefully they can put those experiences in the past.
The following is some advice I have to give to not just my family, but to all immigrants, from all over the world, because there is so much to learn in this new world.
Language: One of the first things I would tell them is how important proficiency in English is. It’s true that Canada is a multicultural country, but only in select parts of it. The majority of Canada is still predominantly English speaking. Having a strong command in English is the first step to getting work that isn’t in a kitchen or warehouse.
Owning property: Homeless to homeowner in a few years. It can happen. This is the country of opportunity. Get a job, save up, and buy property. Invest in the suburbs surrounding the urban core, where property prices are very reasonable for families. Canada loves immigrants, and our population will surely boom, thus increasing the value over time.
Travel: I don’t believe travel is a practice you learn in your latter years. I think it is the best form of education both personally and socially. I understand that being immigrants means that at one point they were put through an arduous trip, but traveling in all forms is an opportunity for growth. My family members are citizens of Canada now, but they could be citizens of the world (even though there is much to see in Canada).
Hobbies: In developing countries, hobbies are for survival. In the developed countries, hobbies are for survival too, but in a more personal way. In this new world, my family works, comes home, watches television, goes to sleep, and repeats those steps. They don’t have hobbies per se. My mom is a practicing Buddhist, so she is a part of some communities, but she doesn’t have any personal projects—except for raising me, I guess. I believe personal projects, be they reading books, building miniatures, learning to cook, or working on puzzles, are a substantial record of accomplishments. Finding an area of interest to focus on helps create an identity, not just for other people to view you, but how you view yourself.
Refugees, like my mom, are still finding homes and creating their lives in Canada. They walk among us every day. In this country, there is so much freedom, and I wouldn’t want any new citizen to squander it by living only to pay their bills.
Naked tourists need to respect sacred rules—even if rules are ridiculous
By Elliot Chan, Opinions Editor
Formerly published in The Other Press. July 7, 2015
Travelling is all about taking risk. The whole idea of travelling is built upon adventure. What travellers forget—especially Western travellers—is that our vacation grounds are other people’s homes.
On May 30, a group of Canadian, Dutch, and British tourists visiting Malaysia decided to strip down on Mount Kinabalu for photographs. The mountain was considered the most sacred peak in the country. The act was not only considered disrespectful, but also thought to be the cause of a magnitude 5.9 earthquake that ended up killing 16 people.
It’s hard to argue that the earthquake and the obscene act had any correlation. In my mind, the two events were just an unfortunate coincidence. The movement of tectonic plates—not tits and penises—causes earthquakes. Nude photography is a popular trend; just ask the celebrities who have had their phone hacked. We all love thrills and what is more exciting than nude pictures and travelling? It’s totally a memory worth having, right?
There’s nothing wrong with naked pictures if you are willing to take full responsibility for them. For the tourists in Malaysia, they paid for it heavily. It became a criminal offence and it cost lives. Anytime you disrespect sacred rules and suffer immediate consequences that must cause some remorse. It reminds us that while travelling we are guests in someone else’s country; we need to acknowledge their rules and customs and abide by them.
Getting in trouble abroad is every tourist’s nightmare. So why put yourself in a bad situation? I don’t blame those tourists for “angering the Gods and causing an earthquake.” They were just behaving like idiot tourists and got linked to a tragedy.
If you are travelling and you want to be adventurous, be sure you learn the rules first. General laws and ethics are not universal. You can be certain if something is deemed sacred that the rules are stricter. Don’t fuck around. It’s okay to break through your comfort zone and do something daring, but breaking the rules can put you in a tough position, especially where language barriers are involved.
There are plenty of places to be naked in this world, plenty of places to act the fool. The key is to know where and when that is okay. Being a good traveller is not just about being adaptive, but also intelligent and aware of the ever-changing rules.
By Elliot Chan, Opinions Editor
Formerly published in The Other Press. March 31, 2015
There is often this bludgeoning urge to go out and seize the day. On a Friday night, it sure seems like everyone is eager to make something of it, but more often than not, it just means going to the same restaurant or bar, with the same people, and stumbling home to a well-deserved Saturday morning hangover. With such a great desire to make it to the weekend or holiday break, maybe we should take some time to relax and just stay home.
I love travelling. It’s the passion that drives my very existence. Knowing that I have some place to go in the near future excites me the same way a new superhero movie may excite other people. I love travelling, but commuting sucks. Being out of my natural environment, the little niche I created for myself, sucks. I dislike long bus rides, and I can barely speak English let alone any other languages, so communicating in a foreign place is always a lengthy game of charades. I love travelling, but I can’t imagine doing it all the time.
Staycation, the term coined for the act of staying at home during a long weekend or a holiday season, is a perfectly reasonable way to take a break. Regular day-to-day life is stressful to say the least, and travelling—especially with a group—whether it’s down to the pub or to the other side of the world, is no less exhausting.
It’s a good idea to get out of the house once in a while and experience something other than television shows and instant noodles. But if you find yourself dashing here and there on a daily basis, stop, take a moment, lie down in your bed, walk out into your garden, open your closet, look out your window, scan your bookshelf, survey your pantry, and experience the very place you live in.
The grass may always seem greener. You look at a picturesque image of a beach in Thailand, you look at the happy photos of friends drinking in a bar, and you feel tempted. Embrace that temptation should it happen. Don’t force yourself to stay at home, but don’t force yourself to go out either. The choice is yours. Nevertheless, if your choice is to stay home, know this: you are going to have the freedom to do whatever you want, wear whatever you want, and nobody will kick you out or charge you a $10 cover to enter. You can fall asleep without having to transit home. You can leave a mess and nobody will get angry. You can listen to your own music, watch the shows you like, read the books you want, and eat the food you cooked.
Home is not a prison; it’s where your stuff is, and you’ve worked hard for all your stuff.
Elliot Chan 