Recycling Crushed Dreams
The Big Sur Marathon through fresh eyes
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We stood huddled under the wooden structure listing a trail map.
For two hours, the rain continued. The cold air soaked through my dampened hoodie. Strangers chatted idly, awaiting the start of the Big Sur Marathon.
Only the promise of the jagged coastlines and awe-inspiring mountains could make me wake up at 3 am for a “just for fun” marathon.
Heavy clouds crowded the skies, limiting the visibility. Known as one of the most scenic courses in the world, it seemed unlikely that we’d get to experience all of its majesty.
Forty-five hundred runners gathered in Big Sur, a rugged stretch of California’s central coast, among the redwoods. They would trace the Pacific Coast Highway (PCH) north for 26.2 miles to Carmel-by-the-Sea, a ritzy coastal haven.
With over 2,000 feet of elevation gain, this is not the race to test your speed. Many in the start corrals had even just run the Boston Marathon the weekend prior.
The Boston 2 Big Sur challenge attracts a special kind of runner—one crazy enough to attempt two hilly marathons within a week and affluent enough to fly around the country for them.
No, this race is about experiencing beauty at the edge of the Western World. And maybe cosplaying Big Little Lies a little.
I myself didn’t feel prepared for the distance.
After a season of disappointing half marathons, I gave myself permission to wing it. I hadn’t been training on hills and barely surpassed 16 miles in a given long run.
Whatever. I can walk it.
Before departing for California, I packed in a rush.
In almost every race over the past few years, I have worn a Great Day shirt. I designed them myself and spent countless hours sourcing the materials and organizing the production logistics.
Back in 2020, I boldly noted in my journal I want to create the gay Tracksmith. These shirts were supposed to be the SKUs that started it all.
I left my corporate job during the pandemic to start Great Day. I dreamed of making a living out of running and supporting the queer community in the process.
But the challenge of monetizing a sport that boasts itself as “free” perplexed me. I had experience working in the fashion industry, so starting an apparel brand made sense, I guess.
I worked tirelessly for two years to launch the Vendredi Tank, and another year for the Vendredi Crop.
The process ate at my soul. It required expertise in everything I’m not naturally gifted at, from logistics to finance. I felt alone and lost but with an extreme responsibility to see it through.
While I was technically profitable, I was mentally bankrupt.
I resentfully stepped away from apparel in December.
The coaching business I had expanded to help fund product development was much more successful anyway.
Without the stress of apparel, I refocused on my own training. I took a few months off social media. I let my mind and soul recover while my body worked.
I used the hours I spent on the road training each week to contemplate what was next—how much time I had wasted and how much further Great Day still had to go.
It was no longer a clothing business, but could it still become something big?
This step back allowed me a period of crucial reflection.
During my demi-sabbatical, I audited the entirety of the business, everything from project management systems to client communication, monthly expenses to brand visuals.
I hadn’t realize exactly how much I had learned. I never reflected on how effective some of my workflows were.
Like walking through the debris after a storm, I collected the salvageable pieces.
I had planned all along that the Big Sur Marathon would cap my racing season.
In the spirit of springtime, it would also be the start of something new—a new era for both Great Day and for myself personally.
So when I dug through my closet packing for this race, I paused over a Great Day sample I had forgotten about.
It was one of maybe six designs that were left unrealized. It bore a logo I spent months developing before trashing in favor of the current one.
It represented all of my shortcomings. It was perfect.
I ran down the PCH this past Sunday feeling proud.
Proud of how my first stab at entrepreneurship is unfolding. Proud of sticking it through disheartening race performances. Proud that I’m the kind of person who will run hours in the rain for the chance to see something remarkable.
For months, I had envisioned a half marathon PR as the culmination of this training cycle. I spent years visualizing myself as CEO of a successful running apparel brand. But I never got to see either of those. What I got was so much better.
Through all my doubts and misgivings, the rain and the cold, the clouds retreated. I crested a bluff five hundred feet above the crashing sea. I posed for a photo in a shirt I designed.
Beautiful, I thought.
Coach’s Training Journal
We are officially officially done with this cycle (round of applause, please). Perfect timing as I pack my bags for a wedding in Antigua this weekend.
This next week is about movement. Long walks, bodyweight strength sessions, and maybe an elliptical. Stretching.
I promised myself that I would wait until after this trip to plan my off-season, let alone my next training cycle. I’m registered for the Chicago Marathon in October but I’m making sure to give myself the space and time to desperately want to come back to training.
It always happens, like clockwork. I just need to be patient.
In NYC? Join us for the next GAY BAR FUN RUN!
Brian! I absolutely love your mindset — especially the way you process your thoughts through each season and allow yourself to grow from every experience. What a journey it's been for you. Proudly wearing that unused logo because it’s “perfect” in all the ways it reflects the growth that’s come from your challenges.