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Arts
Friday, March 13, 2020 — 5

When someone talks about “the arts,” the first
thing that comes to mind is usually some form of self-
expression, like painting or photography. Very rarely
do we talk about art in the same breath as running, but
why not? We’re exploring this question with “Daily Arts
Runs a Marathon.” However, due to the rising concerns
surrounding a certain virus, our endeavor ends here, with
our runners reflecting on their training, or lack thereof,
before the run was cancelled and we scattered to our
respective corners of the world.
Here’s what I talk about when I talk about running:
being unprepared. If we’re mentioning running — a
race, a campaign, away from somebody — in relation to
art, it might just be best to be softly unprepared. In arts
and media, it’s usually the likely losers we find ourselves
rooting for, whether they’re in last place from the start
of a race or merely the underdog. Authors and artists
like to make the little guy break through unexpectedly,
maybe because this so rarely happens in real life.
Think Katniss Everdeen, the good and moral
underdog, jumping to victory. Or the unlikely
protagonist’s solving of a crime. The odd man out,
strange but lovingly good, racing to find true love. We’d
like to hope these revelations are maybe possible in real
life, too.
Such methodology may or may not be the way to
apply real-life race prep, though. As of spring break, I
decidedly abandoned this shoddy method. Over break,
I gave in to prepping for the Arts marathon at last,
training on the unfriendly slopes of California. The air
was thin and dry and the trail made of endless hills.
With the weather back to a decent place in Michigan,
we’ll see if this preparation — and deciding against the
fantasy of an attempted underdog story — continues as
planned.
— John Decker, Daily Arts Runner

I’ve had a strange relationship with running since
joining the track team in 8th grade, one rooted in
an even stranger relationship with my weight since
elementary school. I always think back to when I was
15 years old, running high-school cross-country. I was
in the shape of my life at 130 pounds (I’m only 5’6”), I
was breaking my personal record almost every 5k race,
I was on track to make varsity by senior year and maybe

even earn the six-pack abs I’d irrationally wanted since
I was 10 years old.
When I volunteered to run in the Daily Arts relay a
few months back, I was 40 pounds heavier and hadn’t
touched my running shoes since high school.
At some point in early 2015 I began to dread running.
Over the last five years I decided I hated running,
hated my Saturdays spent at races, hated the pain in my
shins, hated working up a sweat and hated every step I
took at a pace faster than three miles an hour. I think
what I actually hated was feeling left out on the cross-
country team — while my team was bonding, I spent
90% of my free time hiding in my room. In hindsight,
quitting cross-country was a symptom of my untreated
depression.
But that dread persisted far beyond treating my
mental health. In five years I haven’t gone for a run
more than 10 times, each of those few runs taking
enormous mental strength. I was discouraged going
from six, seven, eight miles to barely capable of a half-
mile. I was discouraged watching my weight gain rack
up.
Fast forward to 2020. A month before the Probility
Ann Arbor Marathon, I heard my fellow runners
talking about how their training was going. Everyone
was hard at work. One friend invited me to run together.
I declined.
In a word, my training has been dreadful. Less than
two weeks before the marathon, I’ve run only three
times: today, yesterday and the day before. None were
more than a mile. All three runs I dreaded terribly, but
yesterday’s run a little bit less than the day before’s,
and today’s run a little bit less than yesterday’s. I’ve
accepted that I’ll have to take my six- or seven-mile leg
of the relay really slow. But that’s okay with me. I hope
that over the next 10 days, I’ll incrementally reduce my
marathon dread. And maybe, just maybe, I’ll put my
running shoes back on the day after.
— Dylan Yono, Daily Arts Runner

For the better part of a decade, I’ve been telling
myself that “I love running.” At first, this was a bold-
faced lie — can you imagine any seventh grader actually
enjoying the act of running? There were middle school
track teams, of course, but we were all still blindly
listening to our parents at that age, just on the cusp
of being able to say, “why in the world would I ever
voluntarily run anywhere?”
The only reason I started running was to get more

play time on the soccer field, but I could not tell you
why I kept going. With the last few weeks of training,
though, I’ve been thinking more about my relationship
with my runs and I decided to categorize them into
three major types.
First, we have the procrastination run. There are a
variety of ways to avoid responsibilities and going on a
six-mile run is one of the best ones out there. It takes
me about an hour and a half in total (if we include the
cool down and the shower) and for those 90 minutes I
am blissfully ignoring the fact that I don’t know how
organic chemistry works while The Backstreet Boys
blast in my headphones.
Then, my personal favorite, is the run where I’m ever
so slightly sick, but not sick enough that I should stay in
bed. Have a cough? Put on the running shoes and let the
cool winter air clean your lungs. A little bit nauseous?
Keeping yourself moving, especially in the winter,
is the perfect cure. Winter runs to cure an illness are
my foolproof method to avoid sickness. Well, that and
downing an eight-ounce glass of Emergen-C.
Finally, it’s the fun run. This is the run where
everything works out — I actually remembered to warm
up, I found my fancy running socks and the sky is clear.
These runs, though not rare, are also not representative
of how the majority of my runs go. With a fun run, all I
want to do is be outside, feet hitting the pavement. My
pace is strong, and I don’t even realize it. Sometimes it’s
snowing, sometimes the leaves are just changing color.
Either way, the weather is a non-factor with a fun run.
What matters is that, for whatever reason, my brain
turns off and it’s just me, my music and the burning in
my lungs.
— Emma Chang, Daily Arts Runner

Wintertime in Michigan is not an ideal time to train
for a race. Between the icy sidewalks and piercing cold
air, I find it difficult to log some miles outside instead
of staying curled up on the couch. Even when it’s been
warm for a few days, you never know what you’ll run
into as you trek alongside Michigan roads. Just the
other day I was running in 40 degree weather and met
an icy slope through the Arb, forcing me to slowly skate
up the hill at 10 minutes per mile.
Despite the unpredictability and unpleasantness
of Michigan winters, I still find myself lacing up my
shoes and hitting the road everyday. When I’m in need
of some extra motivation, I look to one of my favorite
professional runners, Des Linden, for inspiration. She

won the Boston Marathon back in 2018, has made two
appearances at the Olympics and she trains full time
in northern Michigan, logging nearly twenty miles a
day running through the ice and snow. When I see her
occasional post on Instagram, I’m inspired by her will
to become a better athlete.
I’ve always had a complicated relationship with
running — some days the miles come easily and I feel
like I can run forever, but other days I struggle to find
the fire that keeps my legs moving forward. Regardless
of whether I’m flying through an eight mile run or
barely pushing past three, running is and has always
been an escape from the stress of daily life.
In running it’s easy to get caught up in PRs and
mileage; however at the end of the day, I don’t run for
numbers but for myself. I would have been excited
to take on this relay with some talented writers and
to share in the pain and sense of accomplishment of
running as we cross the finish line.
— Kaitlyn Fox, Daily Arts Runner

After riding the bench of my high school basketball
team for four consecutive years, I have risen from the
ashes to make yet another embarrassing athletic debut.
Look at me now, coach. Who “doesn’t have the stamina”
now, coach?
Training for this run has felt a lot like a coming-of-
age indie movie when the manic pixie dream human
says, “I like to run a lot, it makes me feel like I’m in
control,” followed by a montage of sunset runs in their
worn-down converse. It’s me, my mind and a treadmill,
telling myself mawkish quotes like “this body is capable
of anything, Cantie.” I say this to myself so that no
one hears. I have yet to run outside. Only treadmills.
Outside makes things real.
I’ve created the habit of never looking at how far I’ve
run. Rather, I measure myself in songs. When a beat can
distract me from the discomfort, I hit that video-game-
frenzy mode; my body goes rainbow, speed picks up,
and glitter stars start shooting out of my body.
The most riveting discovery of training for the
Probility Marathon Relay: The second you become OK
with discomfort, you’ll find comfort. These life lessons
about control and pain have kept me coming back to
the treadmill, and perhaps they’ll keep me coming back
when the race — now canceled — would have been over.

Update: Daily Arts (doesn’t) run the Ann Arbor marathon

DAILY ARTS WRITERS
Daily Running Column

DAILY RUNNING COLUMN

The following review contains spoilers.
If you were to watch season one of “Ugly
Delicious” without prior knowledge of David
Chang’s
somewhat
acerbic
“Chang-ian”
demeanor — one that has vaulted him into fame
since his founding of Momofuku Noodle Bar —
you may bristle to Chang’s authoritative ideals
and opinions within the culinary landscape.
Chang’s insistence towards (East and Southeast)
Asian prominence colors your understanding
and position of food cultures dominated by
people of color when juxtaposed with his myriad
of support from his white colleagues. A simple
comparison of the Jaliscan shrimp taco to that
of the Cantonese har gao merits a discussion
of hierarchical race structures within the
United States, similar to the exclusion of Black
contributions in American barbecue within a
barbecue episode exploring the differences of
American and East Asian barbecue. For those
familiar to Chang’s ideals and mannerisms,
this may only seem as a thematic highlight to
“Ugly Delicious” — Chang’s person is one that
highlights his brutal honesty and pride toward
his Asian American identity.
The premise of the first season of “Ugly
Delicious” revolves around curiosity — a desire
to learn about other food cultures that may not
necessarily pertain with your own racial and
ethnographic identity. But with the release of
season two of “Ugly Delicious,” Chang shows
remarkable growth as a host, perhaps even
humility, that spans past his own identity and
advances global questions within food. Season
two tackles uncertainty and learning of food
knowledge head-on in a way that wasn’t clearly
addressed in season one.
The Season two premiere of “Ugly Delicious,”
“Kids Menu,” delves into the deep end of
Chang’s internal struggles with becoming a new
father — one that he compares to his sentiments
to his current “kids” of the Momofuku empire.
Chang comes into full reckoning of his past
achievements and temperament — his former
methods and attitudes that
aided him in his past won’t
work when raising a child.
Succinctly, Chang states,
“There’s a big moment
of reckoning right now
between old Dave Chang
and ‘Dad’ Dave Chang.”
In this sense, Chang’s
introspection
in
“Kids
Menu” sets the tone of
the
entirety
of
season
two.
In
admitting
his
own ignorance and holes
within his knowledge, he
sets himself up as a host
who puts aside much of
his preconceived opinions

and humbly listens to the knowledge of other
food cuisines. Notably, Chang puts himself in
the backseat rather than the foreground of the
show, letting other cast members and cuisine

experts of Indian, Turkish and Western steaks
shine with their knowledge.
This isn’t to say that Chang doesn’t completely
let go of his former somewhat abrasive
demeanor that was on full display during the
first season. Comedically, Chang savagely
pokes holes within his lack of understanding, in
particular to his ignorance towards Indian and
Turkish cuisine. He also roasts individuals who
like well-done steaks, though the show cautions
with a caveat that consuming well-done steaks
may have religious connotations.
While seasons one and two are presented
as short, informative documentary essays,
the second season is a far more cohesive and
convincing one. Taking the best of season
one — the concise, informative narrative of
each episode — season two adds the voices of
prominent PoC and Womxn voices within the
food industry and criticism ranging from that
of Floyd Cardoz, Lolis Eric Elie, Helen Rosner
and Malakeh Jazmati. The further and wider
addition of PoC entertainers such as David Choe
provide additional levity as Chang allows his
circle of colleagues and friends to share their
own stories and perspectives as they conduct
their own mini-interviews. Is the absence of
Peter
Meehan
noticed?
Yes, but the show doesn’t
decrease its own presence
or authority any less with
its new Season.
Through
his
inner
turmoil
and
reflection
throughout Season two of
“Ugly Delicious,” David
Chang ultimately becomes
a better advocate for PoC
and womxn voices in the
food industry, simply by
putting
aside
his
ego,
listening to others and
allowing others to speak
on his own platform.

The evolution of David
Chang in ‘Ugly Delicious’

BRENDON CHO
Daily Arts Writer

TV REVIEW
MUSIC NOTEBOOK
What I’m listening to:
‘[USA]’ by Anamanaguchi

New York City 8-bit band Anamanaguchi
doesn’t seem like a recipe for mass-appeal
music. You can explain their genre by saying
“If you like video games and anime, you’ll love
Anamanaguchi.” But when I try to imagine
a band that takes those mediums as its main
influences — not to knock on video games
and anime — I imagine niche tunes that only
meganerds like myself would enjoy. Definitely
not
thoughtful,
multilayered
or
widely
appealing music. But [USA] is all of the above.
The album has been long in the making.
The band first announced [USA] in November
2014, promising a 2016 release date. They
kept busy by releasing their own parody video
game and headlining Minecraft music festivals
(seriously). [USA] finally released in October
2019.
I should have known Anamanaguchi was
anything but one-dimensional. With electropop
bangers like “Pop It” and “Miku” under their
belt, they are so much more than gamer music.
Their talent is beyond the confines of 8-bit pop,
and so is [USA].
It’s popular to build an album around a sort
of sonic journey, following the conventions of
narrative — exposition, rising action, climax,
falling action, resolution. That structure is
audible in [USA], but not just across the album;
every individual song has its own journey that
takes you somewhere else. Take “Lorem Ipsum
(Arctic Anthem).” Beginning with a synthetic
voice singing the pseudo-Latin dummy text
lyrics — “Lorem ipsum quia dolor sit amet” —
the track continues to build with buried, bassy
percussion before blasting into a chiptune
explosion. Just as it seems the tension is easing,
the song erupts into its high-pitched climax.
The second half of the song is a chilling ambient
cut. You can almost feel the wind and the waves

of the arctic beneath the track. That’s the kind
of transportive journey felt on every song.
Anamanaguchi builds a world with subtlety
in [USA]. Like the wind and waves on “Lorem
Ipsum (Arctic Anthem),” I feel the forest
beneath “The C R T Woods.” I can imagine the
mysterious creatures whose voices sing “Speak
To You [Memory Messengers]” and “Apophenia
Light [Name Eaters].” It’s no coincidence that
the cover art depicts a weathered storybook
over
moss-covered
cobblestones
with
a
paintbrush beside it. [USA] is what a picture
book would sound like as an audiobook, and
Anamanaguchi is the narrator.
But is that [USA] picture book one of fantasy
or reality? It’s easy to think it’s fantasy. After
all, Anamanaguchi got its start in pioneering a
combination of pop punk with chiptune music
generated from Nintendo hardware (their
earliest releases were actually on playable
NES cartridges). Their next release was a
soundtrack to the “Scott Pilgrim vs. The World”
video game, and their debut record, funded via
Kickstarter, is literally titled Endless Fantasy.
But by the band’s own account, [USA] is about
confronting reality. Band member Ary Warnaar
says “[USA] is inspired by the struggles of
acknowledging
the
distinction
between
(fantasy and reality) … a process so many of us
seem to be undergoing.” The way [USA] deftly
swings between adrenaline-infused excitement
and moody, ambient melancholy is a reflection
of reality.
The
end
result
of
that
reality-based,
storybook sound is a gratifying full-album
experience — so much so that if I hear a song
from [USA] on shuffle in a playlist, I get this
weird sense of confusion from hearing it out
of context. Despite how unique each track
is, it’s easy to forget this record isn’t a single
52-minute song. Anamanaguchi put their
hearts into crafting that clean and cohesive
a project. My fingers are crossed for a remix
album down the line.

DYLAN YONO
Daily Arts Writer

HBO

Read more online at
michigandaily.com

“Ugly Delicious”

Season 2

Netflix

Streaming Now

Chang puts himself in the
backseat rather than the
foreground of the show,
letting other cast members
and cuisine experts ... shine
with their knowledge