I ran 26.2 miles without headphones...

A seven-hour run, a classroom lesson, and a decision that will shape my next year

I just finished the Houston Marathon.

Well, the more accurate way to phrase that is that I just finished a Houston marathon. There was nothing official about it—just me running 26.2 miles through the blazing Houston heat.

I’ve done a few of these DIY marathons before back in Singapore, but this was my first in Houston.

This time was different because I decided to listen to nothing.

No music.
No podcasts.
No audiobooks.
No Marco Polo.
No text messages.

Just me and the sights and sounds of downtown Houston.

So much of my day is a constant stream of inputs.

The goal today was simple: move and think.

Between the drive and seven hours on my feet, I had a lot of time to think.

Here are a few questions that came up while I was exploring Houston...

When are you at your best?

I’ve done this activity with my advisory students and some of our student leaders before.

I ask for a volunteer who believes they can do the most pushups.

I invite them to come to the front and do as many continuous pushups as possible. Just when they think they can’t do another one, I ask them to hold the plank at the top.

Then comes the fun part.

I have the rest of the students begin asking them questions.

They’re now holding a plank while trying to answer.

Then I ask one of their friends to come up and ask them for advice.

Every time I’ve done this, the student holding the plank struggles to answer the questions and can’t offer meaningful advice to their friend.

Why does this matter?

Because we need to know the answer to this question:

When am I at my best?

Around mile 12, my legs began to tighten and cramp.

My body began to shut down first. My thinking followed.

It felt like such a dumb and simple change, but when I switched to walking, I could suddenly think more clearly again.

How often do we put ourselves in a physical state where we can’t actually function mentally at our best... and then keep pushing anyway?

I’ve heard so many students brag about pulling all-nighters as if punishing their bodies somehow improved their results.

Today, I had to listen to my body.

I’ve got to start doing that more often.

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What’s the next step?

I thought I was being clever by having Claude build my marathon route.

I gave it a pretty detailed prompt that factored in safety, green spaces, and unique Houston landmarks.

The problem?

I never really studied the route beforehand.

So every few minutes I found myself pulling out my phone to make sure I hadn’t missed a turn.

Finally, after about 10 miles, I stopped for a minute and studied the next section of the route.

Just a few minutes of calibration.

After that, I went miles without needing to check my phone.

The same thing happens when we’re working on projects.

You don’t need to know every step before you begin. That’s impossible.

But you do need to understand enough of the path that you can stop checking the map every few minutes.

If you’re constantly looking up to see if you’re still on course, it’s hard to ever enter a flow state.

It’s hard to become immersed in the work.

It’s hard to notice what’s happening around you.

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So what does that actually look like?

A few weeks ago I wrote about stewardship.

About wanting this year to be different.

About doing more with Keep Asking.

But somewhere around mile 14, I realized something.

It’s easy to write vague statements about impact.

It’s harder to define what that actually looks like.

So I asked myself:

What does stewardship actually look like over the next 12 months?

I left with two concrete answers.

First: I’m going to do everything I can to get my book into the hands of young adults.

My first step is pitching it to 100 literary agents. (the advice I’ve been given so many times is that publishing is a numbers game)

I’m currently at 63.

If there isn’t interest, I’ll self-publish.

The end goal isn’t to land a publishing deal.

The end goal is to get these ideas into the hands of as many young adults as possible.

If a traditional publisher helps make that happen, awesome. If not, I’ll find another path.

Second: I’m going to spend this next season trying to get into more schools.

Over the past several years, I’ve had the privilege of working closely with students, and I’ve become convinced that many young adults don’t need more advice.

They need better questions.

Questions that help them understand themselves more deeply, make wiser decisions, and navigate one of the most important decades of their lives with greater intention.

That’s the contribution I hope to make.

I’ve created three sessions that I believe would serve a school community well:

• Eighth-grade assembly

• Twelfth-grade assembly

• Parent coffee

My goal is to send 100 tailored proposals this summer.

And this is where I’d love your help.

If you’re a school leader, counselor, educator, or parent, I’d genuinely value your feedback on these sessions.

One Page Pitch and Pitch Deck Materials

And if someone comes to mind who cares deeply about helping young people flourish—a principal, superintendent, counselor, speaker bureau, or literary agent—I would be incredibly grateful for an introduction if you feel it’s appropriate.

I know none of us gets to do meaningful work alone. If you feel like helping me put these ideas in front of more young adults, I’d be grateful.

Would I do another meditation marathon?

For sure.

Would I do another one in Houston?

Not exactly like this.

I’m burnt to a crisp.

And, fairly certain I’m still dehydrated 😬

But I also came home clearer.

Sometimes the best thing you can do for your future isn’t consume another idea.

It’s to create enough quiet to hear your own.

Keep Asking,

Kyle