Welcome to ninth edition of this road trip newsletter! Thank you for tuning into the latest and greatest from the front lines of my ambitions as a martial artist and author. I'm glad you're here and am exceptionally grateful for your support, interest, and investment in this journey.

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Before we dive in...

Thank you for being a friend.

This month, I’m running on fumes and not able to create what I’d call a “high production quality” newsletter, but perhaps it’s better that way. If there’s one thing I’m most guilty of—in writing and jiu-jitsu—it is overthinking, and writing something a little less (intensely) thoughtful and more from the heart (which is already worn on my sleeve) might make this more readable and relatable.

You’ll have to tell me if was readable, relatable, both, or neither—as always, feel free to reply to this mailer. I’ll do my best to respond within the week.

Travel Updates: On the Imminent Adieu to San Diego

As I write this, I am now within the final three weeks of our time in San Diego, and I am now wondering how we managed to do a mere eight to ten weeks in every other city we visited. For some reason, six months here didn’t feel like enough, whereas in other places, six weeks felt like plenty. I couldn’t tell you why yet. The next time I write this memo, it’ll be from Atlanta, Georgia. We expect to be there through the end of August.

I am not sure if I am going to miss living in San Diego. (There. I said it.) It feels sacrilegious to write that out in the open, especially as many people believe this place is paradise (which it can be) and especially as someone who once believed that Southern California was the place she was meant to be for the long haul (I don't think it is). As one of my recent training partners, a longtime Navy guy originally from Queens, NY, said to me: “Now that I know where you're from, it all makes sense. You’ve got that East Coast kind of edge.” I don’t know how I can give off that vibe in the span of a few minutes of conversation and a few rounds of sparring, but I guess it's possible: you can take this girl out of the east coast, but you can’t take “The East Coast Edge” out of this girl.

Other things I can't control aside from my "East Coast Edge": the wind, both literally and figuratively speaking. Taken on my 36-hour adventure to Los Angeles and Newport Beach.

I’ll definitely miss California’s “winter,”, certain cafes and work spots in San Diego (Copa Vida, Invigatorium, and Izola are my Big Three in Downtown SD), the Açaí Carioca pop-up at the gym every Wednesday night after training, and, of course, the training itself. I've done a lot of interviews that have me excited to write about the culture of Atos and its satellite fitness institution, Electrum Performance: a small, members-only strength training gym that effectively serves as an extension of the Atos Locker Room and often feels like a petting zoo (usually there's a Boston Terrier, a Corgi, and the occasional French Bulldog leaping and bounding around the lounge area).

But there is one big thing I will not miss (aside from the Airbnb that is a weekly exercise in Murphy’s Law and the turf wars between various homeless encampments surrounding the apartment): the way I felt after nearly every training session both at the very beginning and while nearing the very end of my time here. At the beginning, I felt overwhelmed by everything I didn’t know and got down on myself for how “dumb” I was, jiu-jitsu wise, in a room full of people who were stupidly knowledgeable. At the end of my time here, I feel down on myself for knowing what I need to do to improve and not being able to do it based on my time constraints, my priorities, and, to some extent, the nature of the room I’m in: in order to really improve, you need to be able to work new techniques on people you can beat. On most nights, there isn’t more than one (adult-aged) person I can beat on the mat. When a lot of my gratification in jiu-jitsu is tied to a sense of visible (even if minor) improvement, this is a suboptimal situation for me, unless I’m willing to trade writing time for trips to open mats at other gyms (right now, I am not).

This all begs the question that more than one person has asked me here, and what was echoed back in September on my first visit back to Boston since the trip began: Why am I so hard on myself?

Writing Updates: On the Difficulty of Writing about My Dad

“Why am I so hard on myself” is a big question, and I’ve begun to answer it in writing the third chapter of my manuscript—the last thing standing in the way of a completed book proposal (three sample chapters or roughly fifty pages of writing are typically requested in a proposal). That chapter, in the current outline, is the major chapter about my dad, who is expected to make flashback appearances later on in the book, but isn’t getting so much dedicated attention as he will receive in Chapter Three: the setting-the-stage chapter of the character that was David J. Zendell. It's been the hardest chapter to write so far.

Before I started this section of the manuscript, I thought I’d made sense of my dad and his story. I also thought I had processed both his death and his impact on my life. I’ve noticed that I haven’t done so fully in any of these respects—even though it’s been nearly two years since he died.

The “shiva call” for my deceased father in a time of social distancing, featuring mourning items such as chocolate, liquor, and flowers. Taken in my old apartment on April 2, 2020.

What comes to mind is the perspective that a few people gave me when I was struggling to pump out any meaningful chapter work late last year: “You can’t live the story and write it at the same time.” When they gave that feedback, they were mostly referring to the story of the road trip across the country and the story of trying become a world-class-ish BJJ competitor. Those are two of the key storylines in the book, there is a third, critical story in the mix as well: of distinguishing the life I want for myself from the life my dad wanted for me.

I’m asking myself now, “Am I trying to live this story while trying to write it at the same time?” (specifically, the story of dealing with my father’s life and his legacy in my own). Yes, a little bit, but don’t have a choice but to keep writing. Unlike the roadtrip (which is finite), thinking about my father and his impact on my life will likely continue for the rest of my life.

There will never be a “good time” to write about my dad or a perfect way to write about him, but I’m grateful to have made the time to dedicate to it at all. This is the time I wish I’d taken when he died. I'm glad I have the opportunity to take it two years later.

"Business" Updates: On Reaching One Year on the Road and Where I Could Use a Hand from You!

The timing to write and think about my dad is very apt. This coming week marks two years both since the day he died (on April 1, 2020) and since the day we buried him (on April 3, 2020). This week also marks a full year since the road trip began, on April 3, 2021. Time. Has. Flown.

I’ve recently started brainstorming a list of content pieces I can write with the broader goals of getting my name/my work out there and attracting additional "street cred" for querying agents. An example of one of these pieces is one I posted on Medium last week, “One Purple Belt’s Perspective”: part BJJ reflection, part road trip reflection, and the latest in a five-year series of posts I publish in annual commemoration of the day of my first jiu-jitsu class: March 22, 2017.

One awesome thing that happened this month: meeting Matt Fitzgerald: prolific writer, runner, coach, and co-founder of 80/20 Endurance. At 80/20 Endurance’s half-day summit in San Diego, I told him a little about my journey and he signed my copy of one of his books: “Running the Dream: One Summer Living, Training, and Racing with a Team of World-Class Runners Half My Age,” a comparative title in my book proposal that received the kind of coverage I hope to receive for my book and writing work one day.

Since I’ve lost some degree of perspective from being in the weeds of my own trip and writing process: if you have any ideas on topics and outlets I can pitch about my last year of traveling, training, and self-discovering on the road from South Boston to Southern California, I AM ALL EARS. It doesn’t have to be something intensely literary or serious: suggesting I pitch an article like “What I packed for my twelve-month martial arts road trip” for Refinery29 is as legitimate as “How this millennial quit her job to travel the country” for Business Insider or “What’s different about training at a competitive “supergym” versus your neighborhood BJJ gym?” for The Jiu-Jitsu Times.

I’m reaching the stage of needing to actively and deliberately get some exposure for what I did in the last year in an authentic way, extending the reach of my writing outside of people who know me personally. I’d love to see my name in Vanity Fair or Sports Illustrated one day, but for now, there is no media outlet too small or too clickbait-y. I am not particularly choosy. I just want to get my writing and my name out there on something other than my own Instagram/website/newsletter. Whether it’s in the spaces of literary, business, BJJ, sports, or travel writing/content, I’ll take any leads and ideas you have on what and where I can contribute. Podcasts and vlogs are as fair game as publications.

Closing Out

Until Next Time

Thank you for reading and thank you in advance for any writing-related exposure ideas you’ve got to offer. In the absence of better or more pressing ideas between now and then, I look forward to catching you up on the greatest moments from the cross-country drive in the next edition of this newsletter.

Warmly from SoCal, until soon from Hot-lanta,

EZ

PS: Because no update is complete without this gremlin, here is Snickers stealing my heating pad. Big props to the little homie for surviving having six teeth pulled a few weeks ago and recovering like a champion.

Issue #009: Zen in the Art of Fighting