alternative title – tips on gaining the quarantine 15.

Prior to COVID-19 I started getting interested in pizza. Some would call it obsessive. Even though I don’t proclaim myself a great cook. I do enjoy learning how to make a few dishes that can truly impress people.

To paraphrase filmmaker Robert Rodriguez – not knowing how to cook is like not knowing how to fuck. You’re going to do it your whole life, you may as well know how.

My first few attempts turned out pretty meh. As with most recipes – I start with the easiest version and slowly work my way up to more authentic versions. In this case I was simply using store bought sauce + a generic pizza dough in cast iron skillet.

Pretty quickly after that – I started making my own dough. 55% Hydration + Used a Pizza Stone. Though at this point  I was still using store bought sauce.

This was at the start of the pandemic – when the only place I could find bread flour was Costco. Unfortunately they only sold 50lb bags. At this point I was committed.

A few more weeks in – and I started layering a simple San Marzano tomato sauce. In hindsight, I probably should have done this much sooner. At this point I was as close to a neopolitan pizza as I could get without a true pizza oven. I probably should have stopped then and let good enough be good enough.

But naturally – I caved and ended up getting a pizza oven. I ended up getting an Ooni Fyra, which I immediately sold and replaced with the propane fueled Ooni Koda. While it is romantic to think about cooking a fire in a wood burning oven, experts agree that 60 seconds isn’t enough time to get any flavor out of the wood. Plus the propane oven was just so much cleaner/less fuss than the wood pellets. Below is literally the first pizza I made, so pardon the burnt edges.

At this point I started getting ads for real wood fired pizza ovens. Zuck – you know me all too well.

Since then – I’ve spent the past few months making pizzas. I’ve played around with increasing hydration levels (I now stick to ~60 -65% for the most part).

I decided that post-pandemic, I’m going to start a pop-up pizza stand at a farmers market. I’m still working on the details – but Moonlit Pizza is in the works.

Here’s are some photos from a little shoot we did.

So there’s a little snapshot of what I have been up to the past year.

Final thoughts:

• Pizza is good.
• If you’re in town – give me a shout and we’ll fire up the pizza oven.
• If you’re having a little party and want to have a pop-up neopolitan pizza stand, I’d be happy to do it.
• If somehow my doctor is reading this post, I promise I’ll start eating better.
• Pizza is really really good.

The shirt I’m wearing right now is currently 9 years old. Damn, I have a nephew who’s younger than that. Does this mean I’m getting old?

It’s not just some shirt that I wear on occasion, it’s a shirt I wear weekly. It’s become a staple of my wardrobe and more importantly changed the way I think about clothing.

Yes I recognize this photo is not nearly as cool as I thought it was at the time.

Here’s a picture of me circa 2011 in the same shirt I still wear to this day. Not the same type of shirt or the same brand, but literally the same exact shirt I was wearing in 8th grade.

When I first went backpacking, I bought one of these merino wool base layers to wear. At some point, I bought another one when they were on sale. But for the most part, I didn’t care much about it. Over time, I would wear them camping, but that was about it.

For the most part, they sat in my box full of camping gear. Until one fateful day my freshman year of college. I had put off doing laundry. All I had left was the base layers. So I threw one on and repeated the next day. Over time, they ended up being a staple in my wardrobe. These days my wardrobe consists of a pair of chinos, a base layer, and some fun socks. While simplifying my wardrobe wasn’t a conscious decision, I’m glad I made it and encourage you to do the same. Here’s why.

It was my senior year of high school and I was running for Central Region Vice President of DECA (a high school organization for business-ey kids, yes you can tell the nerds early).

I needed to raise somewhere in the neighborhood of $4,000 in order to cover the cost of campaign booths, flyers, giveaways, etc. Both Illinois DECA and some local high school’s contributed to the campaign, but I was left with around $3,000 to raise. The only problem, I didn’t have a job and I didn’t want to ask my parents. I knew that running a regular fundraiser selling coffee or candy wouldn’t raise nearly the amount of money needed. So I launched a different plan.

It was 2015 and portable power banks were all the rage. Everyone now had smartphones, but the battery life on these things was still quite lacking. I realized most stores were selling these things for around $20.

I went to my favorite website on the internet, Alibaba and realized I could buy these things for about $2/piece. I drafted up some flyers and got started. But instead of selling them to students myself I decided to sell them as a fundraising opportunity for other schools.

I made the most childish resolution I could last year. I resolved not to read any books. Yep, you heard me right nada, nothing, zippo, zilch. No books.

Before you judge me, let me state that I love to read. I’ll read anything I can get my hands on. As a kid, I would read every Rebecca Caudill book (20+ books a year) every year on top of my regular reading. I would get in trouble for reading during class. After five years of taking band, I still can’t play the saxophone because read during practice (by hiding a book on the music stand). That has stuck with me in college. When I moved to Austin, all I brought with me were two suitcase s, a carryon, and a backpack. Even then I ended up bringing 25 books with me. The point is, I read a lot.

Last year I set out to change something. I wanted to create more than I consume. I know it sounds like something an angsty fifth-grader would say, but I was genuinely curious to see what would happen if I stopped reading. While there’s a large camp out there of successful individuals such as Ryan Holiday who swear by reading a lot, there’s a small but vocal minority of individuals who swear that you’re better off spending your time doing things. Why read about being a pro-cyclist when you can get on your bike and become a cyclist. That’s always been the voice nagging me at the back of my head.

I’m writing this article with the assumption that nobody will read it. In six months I’ll ask myself why I even joined gymnastics. I’m hoping this will help jog my memory then.

Let’s say you’re craving something different. You’re craving something out of the ordinary. Simply put, you want to go on an adventure.

You can buy a plane ticket to a fancy place. Let’s say Iceland*. You grab your passport, pack your bags, and you jet off. While you’re at it you rent a swanky RV.

You can drive around, eat at neat restaurants, see lots of sights, and take lots of photos.

But that’s not an adventure. That’s just travel.

To me, travel does not equal adventure.

Adventure is almost missing your flight, losing your phone, and getting stuck in the mud. Adventure is what happens when you go off the script.

Adventure is trying to cook soup while driving. Adventure is climbing behind waterfalls. Adventure is finding love in random places.

Here’s the secret, you can do all of these things without traveling far.

You can find just as much of an adventure biking through a part of town you’ve never been to or by getting lost in your local state park.

Here’s my challenge to you. Stop watching travel vlogs. Close your computer. Throw on your shoes and get out there. Because adventure awaits and it rewards the restless.

*I chose Iceland because this was a realization I had while traveling around Iceland in a swanky RV.

Last week a girl told me I was psychotic when I told her I hang my clothes with the hangers facing backward.

Two years ago I would have agreed that hanging your clothes backward just feels wrong, it’s like pouring your cereal into a bowl of milk.

Let’s step back. Like most everyone, I own a few too many clothes. Things that I loved when I bought them, but over time didn’t receive the love they deserve. In most given months, I wear the same 10 shirts. Yet, the majority of my closet is taken up by shirts that never see the light of day.

At the start of every year, I flip every single one of my hangers backward. Then, each time I then wear that article of clothing, I flip the hanger so it sits the right way. By November it’s evident what you wear and what you don’t.

To add another layer. Here’s the thing, everything that hasn’t been worn in the past year goes into a big garment bag/hamper. If I feel so inclined to wear it in the next six months and actually take it out of the bag, it reclaims a spot on my shelf. If it doesn’t I get rid of it in one way or another.

When I was moving to Dallas for a summer internship, it was easy to decide what I was taking with me. There were only a dozen or so shirts I actually loved wearing. The rest stayed at home.

If you feel like your possessions are bogging you down, start by clearing up your wardrobe. It doesn’t have to be as difficult as you think. You may get some odd looks when someone looks at your closet, but flipping your hangers is a start at simplifying your wardrobe.

solidcore is what happens when you let a SoulCycle instructor teach a class in a BDSM dungeon. At it’s heart, it’s a bodyweight fitness class with the added energy of SoulCycle . I’ve been wary of flashy classes like SoulCycle and Orange Theory, but, when I had the opportunity to go with my team, I had to try it out. Here’s the skinny on the fitness class that is solidcore.

You enter solidcore and it looks like pretty much every other yoga studio. It’s well lit and there’s a check-in desk along with some changing rooms. After getting changed, we were ready to embark on our fitness adventure. Note that you are expected to ditch your shoes and socks, rather walk around barefoot. As a traveling consultant, this is nice since you don’t need to pack an extra pair of shoes.

A few minutes before the class begins you enter the dimly lit studio, with distinct accent lighting, and receive training on the reformer machines. The reformer machine is essentially two platforms, one of which is on a sliding track. The moving platform can be attached to different bungee cords which provide varying levels of resistance.

All in, there nine or so reformer machines in a solidcore studio, which creates for a pretty intimate setting. At first, I was worried about looking like a fool amongst my new coworkers, it was quickly evident that everyone else becomes too preoccupied trying.

The class consists of a 50-minute workout in which you go through a variety of slow bodyweight exercises. The exercises themselves aren’t intense, but holding them for extended duration can be challenging. For example, you’ll have to hold a plank while the moving platform is trying to pull you further apart. Furthermore, it worked muscles I otherwise wouldn’t have touched. I definitely felt sore in my inner thighs the next day.

Paired with the workout is an energetic instructor who is all too ecstatic to keep you holding your plank to catchy dance music. It is definitely an encouraging (if not a bit intimidating) environment which will want you to perform. Above all, it is a very supportive environment. I definitely do not have the motivation to perform fifty minutes of body weight workouts on the regular, so having an engaging instructor was helpful.

That said the instructor didn’t do much other than provide encouragement. There were a couple of times that the instructor vaguely corrected my form, but not nearly as most classes would. There was a secondary instructor who also participated in the class with us, but it was hard to look to her for guidance while doing your workout.

For me, the big takeaway from solidcore was the power of body weight workouts. I’ve done my fair share of push-ups and pull-ups, but solidcore helped me realize that there were so many other bodyweight exercises I can start incorporating. I’ll definitely be doing more weighted crunches and sideways planks.

Is it worth the $30 bucks that each class costs, probably not, but it is a unique experience and a good reminder of the power of bodyweight workouts.

Over the past year, I’ve noticed a big push to find your park.

I find this absurd.

As an Eagle Scout and avid outdoorsman, I’ve spent the better part of the past two decades exploring national parks. I was blessed to have parents who took our family to national parks every chance they had. Our national parks system is one of our greatest assets. One that I truly do believe is underappreciated.

I’m all for individuals finding adventure. I believe it is instrumental in developing the human spirit. But the notion of finding your park creates a mentality of takers.

The idea that individuals should find their park inherently implies that the park is theirs. It encourages them to treat it as if it belonged to them. This is all at a time when parks are already struggling. Over the past few years, our national parks have surged in popularity, which is putting a strain on the parks already limited resources.

The statement “find YOUR park” leads individuals to explore these parks as if they were their own. It implies a sense of ownership. It leads individuals stray off of marked trails, litter the woods, and deface natural artifacts.

The slogan also reinforces the notion that one’s experience at a national park should be catered to them. Instead of being mere observers, visitors have come to demand

What happened to staying in quaint cabins?

higher expectations. They expect accommodations and dining to meet commercial standards. In order to cater to these growing demands, companies like Xanterra, have stepped in to provide fine lodging and concessions within the parks. No longer are the accommodations in national parks basic cabins, they now rival luxury hotels (with prices to match).

All I’m saying is let’s not Disney-ify our national parks. Let’s not tear down forests so visitors can have better coffee. Sure let’s make them accessible for all to see, but at the same time be conscious of the footprint we leave. Let’s keep them pristine. Let’s leave them as we found them, not as we want them to be.

So please, don’t find YOUR park, rather discover OUR parks.

P.S. if you ever have any questions on how to adventure in the wilderness without leaving a trace, please don’t hesitate to message me.

A few weeks ago, a friend of mine pointed out that I’d hit my one year anniversary of sailing with the UT Sailing Club.

In that time, I’ve learned a couple things (I know most of you didn’t think I was capable of that). Number one, if someone is yelling at you…just duck.

Things Break. Be Ready:

The first time I ever went sailing at UT, a few members managed to break a sailboat in half. Somehow, I was convinced that this was the group of people I should learn to sail with.

We’ve had numerous parts break on us at inopportune times. Sometimes it’s just poor luck and sometimes it’s our own incompetence (hint: it’s usually the latter). Instead of fretting and freaking out, you quickly learn to calm down and figure out how to improvise until you can fix it (or duct tape over it until the next person finds it).

Find a Sport:

As someone whose athletic claim to fame is scoring on my own soccer team in fourth grade, I never really understood the appeal of sports-ball competitions. I never understood how people bonded over flailing balls and pucks at each other.

After getting involved with J24 racing (the type of boat we race) it finally clicked. I understood how sports build camaraderie. The shared spirit of wanting to accomplish something. The coordination required to do something as simple as tack (turn) into another direction. The panic when things go wrong, it all just made sense.

I’ve probably inhaled just enough fiberglass while working on Jolly Bevo (our beloved J24) to shave a few months off my lifespan (how’s that for dedication), woken up sore every morning for a week after a regatta, and spent a too many hours in cold water, but somehow it all makes sense.

I have found a newfound respect for athletes and for my fellow professional Netflix connoisseurs, maybe give another sport a try.

What my parent’s think I do when I say I’m sailing.

Everything Makes Sense. Except When It Doesn’t:

When I began sailing I floundered around in the water. Pulling on the mainsheet (the line that controls the sail) and messing with the tiller. More often than not I found myself in the water with the boat upside down. I didn’t understand what was going on and decided that sailing is essentially magic.

In the past year, I have learned more about sailing that any sane person should know (the amount of sailing knowledge I have has gone from nothing to being well informed, and has now peaked at nerdy). Generally, things make sense. I can read and react to the wind. When things go wrong, I can ascertain what I should look for. Once you know what you’re doing, sailing becomes a lot less like magic and a lot more like science. It’s a nice reminder that behind all the things we take for granted, there’s a lot more happening behind the scenes. At least for me, it has led me to become even more inquisitive (this was probably my elementary school teacher’s biggest nightmare).

But every once in a while, things just do not make sense. You can be sailing next to an identical boat doing the exact same thing as you and they still manage to surpass you. In those cases, I have decided to accept that sailing is still magic.

Bonus – Boat Puns Are Great:

I haven’t a clew where this fits in, but I have a newfound appreciation for boat puns and dad jokes. Maybe I’ve been pier pressured into appreciating them or maybe it is aboat time I started growing fond of them.

That is all.

End Notes:

One year in, I’ve been grateful that I somehow got roped into sailing. If you ever want to sail (regardless of whether you’re a pro or have never sailed before), let me know and I would love to get you out on the water (please note, you will be subjected to boat puns).