Perfect Friday Winter Night

Martini…catalogues…dark/cold.
The last two days, going to work has felt like a chore. I’m over it. Walking into that building has taken more effort than I like to admit, and finding something “good” during the school day hasn’t come naturally. Some days the well feels dry.
But the good for today wasn’t at work.
It was coming home.
Home is peaceful right now. My wife, the pets, the familiar calm of the evening settling in. I’d say the kids, but they’re out of the house these days—though two will be back for a month over Christmas, and that will bring its own kind of good chaos.
Tonight we have ASL lessons early, but after that? We’ll have time. Time to read by the fire, or watch a Christmas rom-com, or play a game. Nothing flashy, nothing huge—just the kind of quiet, comfortable evenings I live for.
After-work nights are where the day finally exhales.
That’s the good for today.
It’s great to be alive.
Tonight’s “good” was dinner.
Not some gourmet masterpiece—Blue Apron did most of the heavy lifting—but still, I cooked it.
My wife had a long, chaotic workday, and the rest of her week is going to be just as bananas. Normally, cooking is something I do because… well, I do 95% of the cooking around here. It’s habit. Routine. A task to be crossed off before I collapse on the couch.
But tonight I put my mind in a different place. Instead of treating it like a chore, I treated it like a kindness. A small act to make her day a little softer around the edges.
I put on a fantastic playlist, let the music carry me, and cooked without rushing or resenting or watching the clock. Just chopped, stirred, plated, and felt good while doing it. When she walked in the door to a warm meal after a punishing day, it felt like I’d done something meaningful—even if it was simple.
Not every act of love has to be grand. Sometimes it’s dinner. Sometimes it’s mood. Sometimes it’s just deciding to do the same thing differently.
(And let’s be clear: this new mindset does not extend to picking up the clothes on my side of the bed. That’s a bridge too far.)
Good playlist, good food, good deed.
It’s great to be alive.
IMWI 2026: The Long Crawl to the Base Phase
(A reminder that snowstorms and road trips are not part of any structured training plan.)
Oof, Thanksgiving. It did not end well — and not entirely my fault this time.
I started strong with a swim on Monday before we headed out of town. Got in two runs and some island biking while away, but the Midwest snowstorm torpedoed the weekend. Instead of flying back early Saturday and finishing strong, I spent 14 hours sitting in a car doing absolutely nothing. The only endurance event was my patience. I lost that event. It’ll be a funny story once my family starts speaking to each other again.
So no, not the week I hoped for. But it was a vacation week, and it is what it is.
Not a great week, but not a total wash either. I did what I could around travel, weather, and long hours of sitting still. The important part is that I’m itching to get back into it — a good sign heading into the next stretch.
If I’m being honest, I tend to lean negative. It’s not that I walk around gloomy or cynical, but my brain has a talent for cataloguing what’s wrong, what’s broken, what’s irritating, and what’s disappointing. I even gratitude-journal every morning, and while that helps, I’ve realized I want something that comes after the day has happened—a way to end it on a note that reminds me there is still good everywhere if I pay attention.
So: a new project. “Something Good Every Day.”
Every evening I’ll write about one thing—something I saw, heard, read, or experienced—that was simply good. Not profound, not life-changing, not a solution to the world’s problems. Just something human, something hopeful, something that cuts through the noise.
The idea came to me right before we left for Thanksgiving break. I was walking down the street and saw two friends saying goodbye on the sidewalk. They had clearly just had breakfast or coffee together. They hugged, laughed, wished each other a warm Thanksgiving, and split off in opposite directions still smiling. That tiny moment stuck with me. In a world that feels like an endless scroll of Tumblr-drama, “going no-contact” announcements, and performative takes about everything under the sun, there are people out there who simply live their lives and enjoy each other. It lifted me more than it had any right to.
And then today’s “good” arrived while I was walking the dog.
Two houses down, a kid shot across the sidewalk on a sled like he was at the top of Vail. His dad had shoveled only half the front steps; the other half he had packed down into a tiny makeshift hill. Same with the sidewalk. Near the curb, he built a little snow ramp to stop the kids—not reckless, just thoughtful, and honestly kind of genius. The two kids were having the time of their lives sledding down those stairs. You could tell, even from down the street, that this would be one of those childhood memories that sticks forever.
Meanwhile, the four boys next door were all bundled up, playing in the snow, while their dad loaded them into the sled for a trip to Cricket Hill. Two dads, two sets of kids, a cold afternoon turned into something warm. Memories being made. Screens nowhere in sight. And maybe, just maybe, giving mom a well-deserved break.
That’s today’s good.
If I can find one moment like that each day—something simple, something real—I think it might tilt my perspective a little. Or at least remind me that the world isn’t as bleak as the algorithm wants me to believe.
It’s great to be alive.
IMWI 2026: The Long Crawl to the Base Phase
(Still pre-base, still moving forward, still calling commutes “training.”)
Life got in the way this week, so I ended up one workout short. A few other sessions ran long, though, so it all balances out time-wise. The week wrapped up with a 10K Turkey Trot – not a race effort, as my pace made clear, but longer than my usual runs, so I’ll count it as a win.
Even with life intruding, I’m happy with the week. I stayed consistent, ran a little longer, and logged solid time on the bike. The trend line is moving in the right direction, and that’s enough.
Next week will be tricky since I’m traveling, but I’ll swim before we leave and should have access to a cruiser bike. We’ll see how it goes. If I have to swap a workout for yoga, so be it — probably overdue anyway.
IMWI 2026: The Long Crawl to the Base Phase
(Still pre-pre-base, but at least it’s feeling like forward motion.)
Solid week. Everything clicked pretty well — good runs, good swims, and even some decent time on the bike. Progress.
It was a good week. Balanced, productive, and even therapeutic. I don’t feel achy, just calm — the kind of calm that comes from moving enough to quiet the static. This is the version of training I like: not obsessive, not burnt out, just steady work and a clearer mind at the end of it.
In the past few years, I’ve seen too many young people collapse under the weight of their own minds — from mild anxiety to full-blown crisis. Some bounce back. Some don’t. It’s become impossible to ignore.
Gen Z, especially the younger half, seems adrift in a way that’s different from anything I remember. They aren’t just stressed — they seem hollowed out, like the world has been drained of purpose before they even had a chance to find it.
They’ve inherited a culture that deconstructed everything. Institutions, faith, politics, tradition — all dismantled, analyzed, and memed into oblivion. What used to be serious is now suspicious. What used to be sacred is now cringe.
And what’s left after you tear down all the meaning? Snark. Ironic detachment. Self-awareness as armor. But you can’t build a life out of irony.
They’ve grown up in an age where the big things — climate, politics, the economy — all feel out of control. They’re told they can “change the world,” but every time they look around, the world looks worse. It’s like being handed a bucket and told to bail out the ocean.
Many of them also haven’t had the chance to practice independence. Their lives have been micromanaged from childhood — always supervised, always scheduled, always monitored. So when real problems hit, they don’t have the muscle memory for struggle.
They’re always connected, yet lonely. The phone is a lifeline and a noose. Every moment is lived under comparison — who’s happier, hotter, more successful, more “authentic.” The pressure isn’t just to keep up, it’s to be seen — constantly performing an identity that changes by the week.
No wonder they’re exhausted. It’s like living in an infinite mirror maze.
Gen X wasn’t exactly brimming with optimism. We came of age in the shadow of the Cold War, sky-high mortgage rates, and the collapse of job security. We perfected the art of the eye-roll. “Whatever” was our national anthem.
But here’s the difference: our cynicism didn’t metastasize into self-loathing. We didn’t think the whole world was broken — just that the people running it were idiots. Ours was a “fuck it” attitude, not a “fuck me” one.
We were alienated, sure, but we still believed there was something out there worth doing — even if it was just music, art, friends, or getting out of town.
Today’s kids have more options and less direction. They can be anything, which somehow translates into being nothing in particular. The boundaries that once gave shape to identity — religion, nation, even gender — have all been sanded down. Freedom has turned into fog.
Purpose doesn’t come from infinite choice; it comes from commitment. You find yourself by attaching to something that matters, not by endlessly reinventing yourself.
I don’t think this generation is doomed. But they can’t keep living in a world made entirely of fragments. They need adults who model conviction, who show that it’s okay to care about something, to believe in something, to build rather than dismantle.
Because without purpose, connection becomes noise, freedom becomes emptiness, and irony becomes despair.
We can’t just deconstruct forever. At some point, someone has to start building again. One of my children mentioned that Gen Z is turning towards religion. I’m not sure if that’s true, but at least it would be a start towards finding a higher purpose.
IMWI 2026: The Long Crawl to the Base Phase
(Pre-base continues, now with added toe pain and Peloton pride.)
Finally got on a bike! Only took seven weeks and a bruised ego. I would’ve liked to get in a second swim, but I was out of town for the weekend. The good news: everything I did manage felt solid — even with a toe that’s still swollen and sore. It’s not broken, but it’s definitely not happy. Naturally, that didn’t stop me from running on it, because I’m stupid.
All in all, a good week. Getting back on the bike felt like a win, even if it was the Peloton version of cycling. I would’ve liked another swim, but travel got in the way. I’ll probably start doubling up on some days to ensure I cover everything as training ramps up.
With the weather turning in Chicago, running outside is about to get interesting. I’ve got the day off for Veterans’ Day, so hopefully I can get out there in the cold — maybe even swim later if I’m feeling ambitious.
IMWI 2026: The Long Crawl to the Base Phase
(Now featuring an unscheduled “step-back” week, courtesy of one stubborn toe.)
Friday night, I jammed my toe badly — maybe even broke it. The timing was perfect, of course, right before the weekend. That turned this into an unplanned recovery week. I couldn’t run on Saturday or swim on Sunday, so I reluctantly took a couple of rest days.
Today I’m starting biking (finally), and I’ll see if I can run tomorrow. Two days off has me jittery and anxious. I need to move every day or I start climbing the walls.
Not the week I planned, but that’s how it goes. The toe derailed things a bit, and two rest days made me twitchy. Still, the runs were solid, and the swim felt smooth. Hoping this coming week marks the long-awaited actual start of the bike phase.
