Almost four years ago, I wrote a post about the relationship between temperature and speed, finding a linear relationship on 30m fly times with an R² of 0.21. I’ve kept tracking every rep since then—instead of 150 data points, I now have almost a thousand. I’ve also gotten more sophisticated with how I estimate fly and acceleration times from single reps that deserves its own blogpost. For now, what’s important is that across this four-year dataset, I have 642 30m acceleration reps and 451 10m fly reps, with temperatures ranging from 14° to 95° F.

I built a tool that predicts your 100m time given practice results—go check it out! This post details the development process, including data parsing and training and validating the model.

After a disappointing end to my season, I spent some time reflecting on what went wrong and what I can do better this year. The obvious acute answer is the back injury I suffered in March; the other obvious answer is the lack of racing between May and July to keep me sharp.

Most of the posts on this blog are about success. I write about my PRs, my wins, and my accomplishments. I write about the things that I’m proud of.

When I write about my failures, I write about setbacks. I write about how they are just temporary roadblocks that make my eventual success that much sweeter.

But sometimes failure is just failure.

At some point in our lives, as the story goes, the years start to blur together. As we get more settled in the rhythm of life, as our milestone events recede behind us, the distinction between any two years becomes less and less clear. And one day, we blink, and realize we’ve spent decades on cruise control.

I’m staving off this future as long as I can—and I did so successfully in 2022. Here’s some of my highlights of the year: