A few days ago I went on a music hunt. I was looking through past journal entries and came across one where I talked about this banger of an album from this DJ that I listened to nonstop back in 2007. Feeling nostalgic, I played the album’s samples from the link I saved in that journal entry. Then I remembered — I used to have these songs before switching computers and losing all my offline music. I downloaded them from a website. So I began the search. After 20 minutes of tweaking keywords and rephrasing searches, I was getting nowhere. I kept getting the same search results after 10 pages, and nothing came close to the site I remembered. I was getting a bit frustrated — I just wasted half an hour when I could have gone to the gym instead. However, I realized that I had been using DuckDuckGo as the search engine, and in the past I had gotten totally different results with the exact keywords with Google. Might as well try it, then I can go to the gym and do something productive. I switched, and right on the first page of search results — there it was.
In 2020, I heard a song in a lounge, and its beat caught my attention. I wasn’t entirely sure if I was into it. It played twice as the lounge’s playlist repeated. The song started to grow on me, but it ended right before I decided to Shazam it. A week later, the song was still stuck in my head, but all I could bring to mind was some of the melody and fragments of incoherent lyrics. I tried singing to Shazam, but of course, it couldn’t recognize anything. I took a few words I could remember and searched for possible matches, testing different variations. Nada. Then I looked for ways to find songs without a recording and discovered that Google had just introduced Hum to Search — perfect timing. It might be a long shot, but I figured what have I got to lose? I tried the feature, and voilà! I finally found it. Humming to an EDM song wasn’t something I expected to do or thought was possible, but luckily the song was unique enough that my awkward humming did the job.
One evening six months ago, a melody randomly popped into my head. I had listened to the song on YouTube before but I had completely forgotten the title and the artist. This time, the lyrics I remembered were a bit clearer than the EDM song in 2020, but there were still multiple ways the chorus line could go, and since the song was vocal-driven, I couldn’t hum it — so Google’s Hum to Search didn’t work. Then I vaguely recalled a comment on the video saying this song was part of a video game and a movie soundtrack. So I started asking Perplexity and ChatGPT to list all the soundtracks from both that could match the vague lyrics I had in mind. Nothing came up immediately. A few more prompts, and I still wasn’t quite there. Then, as I slowly went through the list of songs, I recognized the name of one track and its band — lo and behold, it was the song I was looking for.
Each of these hunts followed the same pattern: every time I wanted to give up because things got difficult, something in me refused to let go. In the end, what I gave in to instead was my stubbornness. I kept going, even just a little bit further — sometimes to see if I would drive myself crazy or not — and oftentimes, it led me to exactly what I was looking for.
I’ve noticed the same pattern in my work and in running.
There have been times when design puzzles seem impossible to solve. I’ve spent so much time on them that I felt like I was going in circles. I was getting fed up because I was constantly looking at the problem but kept hitting a wall. As I wanted to give up, I told myself, “The only way out is through.” Also, this wasn’t just about the problem itself. It was about who I am when things get tough and setting an example for my team. Almost always, when I push through and dig a little deeper, I find the breakthrough. Sometimes, you need to take a deliberate rest, detach, let your subconscious mind work on it, and come back with fresh eyes. Other times, you know you’re so close to it, and you need to persist and push through roadblocks.
With running, every run starts out feeling hard. My body feels sluggish in the first few minutes, my breathing is out of rhythm, and I feel mostly uncomfortable. Usually, within the first kilometer, my brain tells me to stop. After pushing through the initial friction, I gain momentum, and things start to get a bit more effortless — there is flow, I feel in the zone, and it’s exhilarating. When I first started running, I could barely run for 5 minutes without stopping. Now, I can run 21 minutes or about 3 km — not quite effortlessly yet, but I have learned to stop listening to that part of my brain that told me to quit and start believing that I can still go further.
These mental, intellectual, and physical challenges helped me realize a few things. It’s more than finding that one song, solving the problem, or running the distance. It’s about who I become in the process. The strain, the effort, and the frustration — all come before the solution and the satisfaction. The struggle actually made me happier in the end, and I’m better prepared for next time.
I’ll admit that sometimes it’s ego — wanting to prove that I can do it or getting what I want. But there’s a deep joy in figuring things out, tinkering, and pushing myself a bit harder — even when all I want to do is quit — then getting to see it all come to fruition.
A little more effort, a little more digging, a little more patience, and sometimes you surprise yourself.