The Michigan Daily — michigandaily.com
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