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I’m pretty sure I shared an article a couple years ago about the special secret mud that gets rubbed on every ball used in a Major League Baseball game, but this is kind of a summary of that same story with a new twist: University of Pennsylvania researchers conducted a study to figure out that yes, the mud has unique properties that can’t be artificially replicated to achieve the effect of making baseballs grip better. So it seems like the job of 67-year-old Jim Bintliff, the retired printing press operator who literally shovels the sacred mud from his grandfather’s old fishing hole into 5-gallon buckets, is safe for the time being.
I don’t know why this “day in the life” profile of a [very Instagram-famous] New York pizzeria owner feels so good to me—like it sort of makes his day feel very routine and calm, which I’m sure it’s not (it’s a restaurant!)—but I definitely read his morning routine of getting a bagel, a cup of coffee, and smoking two cigarettes while getting himself mentally ready for the day for 45 minutes, and I thought, “Man, that sounds pretty nice.” (gift link)
Last week, Tony Hawk shared a 45-year-old photo of an anonymous 10-year-old girl skateboarding in the rain, and of course people decided to figure out who she was and let her know that she was kind of famous now. The whole story is pretty fun. (via Kottke)
There’s a whole series of these “How to Get Fired From a Gig” videos on drummer Ethan Harb’s instagram, but this one, which is 15 seconds of a cover of Led Zeppelin’s “Immigrant Song,” is my favorite. I’ve watched it at least 10 times now, and every time I laugh harder.
If you’ve had the kind of week where you would feel comforted by a video of Hot Wheels cars going down an abandoned waterslide, this should do the trick.
After four years of living in a place far from a good Ethiopian restaurant, I have finally taken it upon myself to learn to cook Ethiopian food myself. This week I made injera for the first time (literally the first time I’ve baked bread, ever), another dish, and this misir wot recipe, which I think is fantastic and not at all hard to make. (This is the second time I’ve made it, and last time, we had a lot leftover, and some brioche buns, so I fried some halloumi, warmed up the leftover misir wot, and made these sort of sloppy joe/maid rite sandwiches which, while probably offensive to multiple cultures, were pretty damn tasty.)
Also, if you missed it last week, I put up a new YouTube video called "I Just Like Standing On Summits":
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Writer, artist, filmmaker, columnist for Outside Magazine. My newsletter about creativity, adventure, and enthusiasm goes out to 15,000+ subscribers every week.
Somebody Should Do Something About This It was a couple years ago, probably eightish miles up the Stuart Peak trail, when I first started thinking about it. A small tree had fallen perpendicular across the trail, no more than four inches in diameter. I had to slow my already-not-that-fast uphill running trot to almost a complete stop to step over the tree. Of course I thought for a half-second, like you always do, that my day would be a tiny bit more pleasant if that tree had not fallen...
Friday Inspiration 456 This is an 11-year-old TED Talk, and I have to say, it’s still a hell of story, and I think kind of underrated (video)(thanks, Kaitlin) BIG NEWS FROM ME: Ultra-Something is now available as an audiobook! Narrated by the author (me!). After enough people said they would like to listen to the book while running, I finally caved and spent 30+ hours recording, editing, googling audio settings, and very nearly tearing my hair out (but not quite). Audible Amazon Apple Books...
I Just Like Standing On Summits My wife, Hilary, was essentially handing me a gift, and I didn’t know what to do with it: She was taking our toddler, Jay, to the Oregon coast for a week, and I was invited to not join them. Meaning: I had a full week to do anything I wanted, for the first time since Jay was born 14 months prior. No toddler wrangling, no constant vigilance to make sure he didn’t fall off something, or stick his finger in something, or eat something indigestible. I could stay up...