Movement and Meaning, in print

I’m taking a quick break from the InDesign time-distorted-wormhole I’ve been lost in the last few hours to write this. This has been my life the last couple of weeks as I teach myself the ropes of graphic design and start to truly assemble the first issue of the Mountain Athlete Journal. It’s been a humbling experience. But also incredibly fun and creative. I’ve been studying a stack of graphic design textbooks on grid theory and layout, the history and application of typefaces, and pestering my designer friend, Zack, with (likely stupid) questions. I’m quickly discovering how much work this is going to take, but it’s work that feels really great.

I wanted to share a few updates here on Substack to provide some fresh context on what I’ve been up to now that we’re into a new season. Plus, I need a break from margins and grids and paragraph spacing frustration. Oh, and share a few photos I’ve taken recently that make me happy.

My racing schedule has shifted a bit, primarily because of the behemoth of a project I’ve undertaken. The recognition of how much time, energy, and money it’s going to take to print this first issue this summer means I really have to make it the top priority this spring and early summer. At the end of 2025 I wanted to go for another crack at the 2026 Tour Divide—that crazy little race from Canada to Mexico—but it’s just not going to be possible. That beast requires 100% commitment and focus. It also takes a lot of time and cash that I don’t have. So no Divide this year.

I am registered for The Grand Loop, a really cool looking bikepacking race connecting the Kokopelli, Paradox, and Tabeguache Trails in Southwestern Colorado. It’s another one in the ~400 mile range, so a much smaller bite to chew than something like the 2,700 miles of the Divide. However, it starts in just a few weeks’ time, and I’m currently en route to a family reunion beach vacation, so it feels like a stretch. Training has certainly taken a bit of a back burner position since Stagecoach. I’m okay with this. The weather has been lovely in Idaho, and trails are starting to properly dry out. I’ve been riding my bike, but honestly not enough to be fully prepared for something like The Grand Loop. So that one might be a game time decision based on how I’m feeling in the final week beforehand.

That all being said, my primary goal for the season post-Atlas Mountain Race remains: the new Taurus Mountain Race in Turkey later this fall. There’s plenty of time to get ready for that one. I will probably do my local ultra, the Smoke ’n’ Fire, in September as a tuneup. So there’s still a carrot in the distance to help stay motivated.

I’ve also been coaching a select group of athletes, which is always rewarding. I would love to continue my coaching and nutrition consulting at a small scale alongside producing the MAJ. These two worlds are aligned, and feel they complement each other.

Progress on the first issue is moving along well. There are a lot of moving pieces to the whole thing and, like I tend to do, perhaps got a little out over my skis on this. Meeting with printers, business development, communicating with contributors; working on my own writing, getting lost in the InDesign wormhole, updating the website. But the process of committing to this reflects the work it aims to cover: it’s imperfect, ambitious, and isn’t guaranteed to work. Art and athletics share in the vulnerability required to find success and meaning, which is exactly what this publication is trying to do. So I’m up for the challenge, and I’m actually feeling a lot more confident about it than I was in the fall. That’s a good sign, right?

There’s just under two weeks left for contributor submissions, and I’ve received many already. More than I’ll be able to fit in this first issue, which I honestly didn’t expect with a brand new publication that’s untested. Stunning photography and painting, thoughtful poetry; wonderfully written philosophical essays, think pieces, and more. I’ve been honing some drafts of my own work to be included, as well. I’ll be notifying accepted contributors in late May, and working alongside them to polish their work and get it print-ready. I can’t wait to share more details and sneak peeks very soon.

The rough timeline we’re looking at:

• May 15: open submissions close

• May 15-31: final contributor list complete; edits and layout placement begins

• Early to mid-June: pre-orders open for Issue 01

• Late June to early July: final files sent to print, proofs reviewed, printing begins

• Mid July: launch party in Sun Valley, web purchase available, magazine in your mailboxes

This is all a bit of a moving target, but I’m committed and confident I can get this thing printed in July. I’ll do my best to continue providing updates here, Instagram, and the email signup on the website. Please sign up there if you haven’t already; mountainathletejournal.com is where you’ll be able to pre-order and buy the magazine first.

I’m also looking for founding sponsors whose brands I want to help define the publication’s identity for the first two issues. I’m in talks with a few, but if you have any connection to brands that might align with the vision of MAJ, please feel free to reach out. Having the financial support of the companies who are willing to bet on print media and support the independent editorial voice I’m committed to enables producing a high quality book with the best possible paper stock. It also helps me establish a budget to ensure fair pay for our contributors as soon as possible.

As I shift my focus to print, this is a question I have been asking myself a lot recently. I love to write, and to take photos, and combine them here. But it’s generally a one-way conversation. The really awesome thing about the print journal is that it’s collaborative. It’s filled with work by other creative mountain athletes, a community that is creating an object greater than the sum of its parts. At least that’s the goal. Of course, some of my work will make its way in there, but really it’s not about me; it’s about the mission and the celebration of the craft made by all of us involved.

This means I will reserve most of my creative energy for the print magazine. Both with my own work, and on the editorial and design side, at least in the foreseeable future. Substack does have its place, though. I’d like to use it to share the behind the scenes of the magazine production and my athletic exploits. More experimental photography and writing with perhaps a little less polish than is expected in a print object. There’s no way I can fit everything I want to share in a biannual magazine.

It’s important to pause here for a second because this brings up a critical point: the magazine is print-only. All the stories and photos will, with some caveats*, only be available in the physical magazine. This is important to me, because a key part of the mission is to play a part in protecting the sacredness of print. When an issue of a print magazine I love and subscribe to gets delivered, I can’t wait to be surprised by it. It’s part of the magic to make a ritual of sitting with a cup coffee and settling in to a 5,000 word feature story. In the short-attention-span chaos and fragmentation of our digital-driven world right now, we can choose to resist, even in small ways. If you’ve made it this far in my ramblings it’s safe to assume you’re on board with that.

So, I have an ask of you. If you’re a paid subscriber to my Substack, thank you. Your generosity and trust has provided a trust in myself that I’m doing something right. All of you who subscribe—paid or free—have. It’s a big reason I’ve taken the leap to try and expand this to the tactile form.

But I’d actually ask you to reconsider your paid subscription here.

Instead of paying me via Substack’s profit sharing model, invest in print and those of us still trying to pull it off. Whether it’s mine or another like-minded publication, print doesn’t exist without its readers. There’s no denying that it’s a tough industry. I may be lost in the sauce, but I do feel an exciting energy brewing in the space. People are hungry for realness amidst the fakeness. There’s something special about holding and feeling a thoughtful, well-considered piece of art in your hands, made by people with obvious passion for the craft.

Substack is a great platform. But it has its limitations and isn’t immune to the fate that so frequently befalls digital media platforms. I’ve seen it shift, subtly, since I first started here a number of years ago: more focus on the social media-like Notes feed, the algorithm. These aren’t inherently bad, but I can’t help feeling like the writing might be on the wall with a platform like Substack to devolve into another social media platform faced with the conundrum of how to please stakeholders and generate profit, which inevitably hurts the artists and their audience in nontrivial ways. In a future post I will share a list of other creatives and publications that inspire me for you to check out.

I will keep sharing stuff like this here, as long as you keep reading. The magazine is where the deep work will live—both from myself and from the contributors who courageously step out into the void of uncertainty and vulnerability to share their work. I think I speak for both of us that we appreciate your support in what we’re trying to make. A space to slow down a little bit. To sit with depth over distraction. Movement and meaning, in print.

More to come!

Hugs and kisses,

-jackson

*Mountain Athlete Journal grants first print rights only; accepted contributors agree to running their feature for a certain amount of time before it can be republished elsewhere.