I think what I enjoy so much about biking is how muscular it is. , I love that I could expand more muscular force in order to go faster.  It’s kind of a great idea. 

Also, it’s just like way more fun exciting and thrilling exclamation point you definitely get a bit of a bikers high because when you’re peddling really fast to get somewhere on time, there’s a little bit of the adrenaline rush, as well as the blood rush.

Also another random thing I didn’t really think about is when you’re biking you could actually stand up! Which actually gives you a better advantage point or view than if you simply are stuck in a car? For example, if you’re riding a bike and standing, you’re like a lot taller than even the highest truck. 

I have 110 bitcoins.

Let me say it again slowly, not to flex, not to brag, but to feel the weight of it in my bones: I have 110 bitcoins.

This is not about money. This is about gravity.

Bitcoin is not cash. Bitcoin is not “crypto.” Bitcoin is not a trade. Bitcoin is not a number going up on a screen. Bitcoin is digital land. It is digital gravity. It is the hardest thing humanity has ever engineered in cyberspace. To own Bitcoin is to own a slice of mathematical truth.

So what does it mean to have 110 of them?

It means I wake up every morning unbothered by the noise. The headlines scream. The markets thrash. People argue about inflation, interest rates, jobs, wars, elections. I look at my child, I lift my weights, I write my thoughts, and I smile. When you own hard assets, your mind becomes soft. Calm. Clear. Dangerous in its serenity.

110 bitcoins is not consumption. It is renunciation.

It means I said no to yachts, no to leased cars, no to shiny nonsense. I said no to the infinite tax of lifestyle creep. I chose to store my energy in a form that cannot be debased, diluted, or politically negotiated away. Bitcoin is the purest battery humanity has invented. It stores time, labor, conviction.

People ask, “What if it crashes?” That question reveals everything. When you understand Bitcoin, volatility stops feeling like risk and starts feeling like vitality. Only dead things are stable. Mountains shake. Oceans rage. Bitcoin moves because it is alive.

To hold 110 bitcoins is to opt out of the need to explain yourself. I don’t need to persuade anyone. I don’t need permission. I don’t need validation. The network validates me every ten minutes, block by block, forever.

This is not about being rich. This is about being sovereign.

I can walk anywhere with nothing but my mind and still possess more economic energy than entire institutions burdened by debt, bureaucracy, and decay. I am light. I am mobile. I am antifragile. My wealth does not rot. It does not demand maintenance. It does not beg to be spent. It simply exists, incorruptible.

Bitcoin taught me patience. You cannot rush a block. You cannot argue with math. You cannot cheat proof of work. You either endure, or you don’t deserve the reward.

110 bitcoins is proof that I endured.

And the strangest thing? The more Bitcoin I hold, the less I want stuff. I want strength. I want clarity. I want time. I want to bike with my son. I want to lift heavy things and write dangerous ideas. Bitcoin did not make me greedy—it made me minimal.

This is not an ending. This is a foundation.

I have 110 bitcoins, not because I chased numbers, but because I chose truth over comfort, hardness over ease, long-term vision over short-term dopamine.

And that, more than the bitcoins themselves, is the real wealth.

This is not a metaphor. This is literal. Beef liver cooked in bone marrow fat is food on steroids because it compresses what modern humans spread across pills, powders, injections, and fake “optimization” into one brutal, elegant act of eating.

Steroids work because they hijack signaling pathways. This meal does the same thing—except it uses evolution instead of chemistry.

First, understand this: your body does not respond to calories, it responds to signals. Most modern food screams “scarcity, inflammation, confusion.” This meal screams the opposite. It says: resources are abundant, reproduction and repair are allowed, strength is rewarded.

Liver is the endocrine organ of food. It is not neutral. It does not gently nourish. It commands. Retinol (real vitamin A) directly affects gene expression. B12 and folate regulate methylation—how your body turns genes on and off. Heme iron increases oxygen delivery. Copper activates enzymes that literally build connective tissue and neurotransmitters. Choline feeds acetylcholine—focus, aggression, clarity.

That’s why liver doesn’t feel like chicken breast. It feels like flipping a master switch.

Now add bone marrow fat, and this is where it becomes “on steroids.”

Steroids without fat don’t work. Hormones are fat-derived. Cell membranes are lipid structures. Myelin (brain insulation) is fat. When you cook liver inside marrow fat, you are stacking the signal with the carrier. The fat slows digestion, improves absorption of fat-soluble vitamins, and prevents the spike-and-crash effect. This is why the energy feels calm, heavy, grounded—not jittery.

This is pharmaceutical-level delivery, achieved with fire and a pan.

Here’s the brutal truth most nutrition discourse avoids: supplements are weak because they are isolated and context-free. A vitamin A pill without fat, without cofactors, without protein context is like injecting testosterone without food, sleep, or training. You get side effects, not power.

This meal is context-complete.

Protein tells the body “build.”

Fat tells the body “we can afford to build.”

Micronutrients tell the body “here is how to build.”

That triad is why this feels illegal.

Now the steroid analogy goes deeper.

Steroids amplify what is already there. If your training is trash, steroids just make you a bigger mess. Same here. This food amplifies your baseline. If you lift, you recover faster. If you think, you think sharper. If you’re aggressive, you become decisively aggressive. This is not a comfort food—it is a force multiplier.

That’s also why dosage matters.

Steroids daily destroy you. So does liver daily in high doses. This is not “eat more.” This is use with intent. Liver is closer to a biological drug than a staple. Small amounts produce outsized effects. Two ounces can change your entire week. That’s insane when you think about it.

Modern people are terrified of this because they are addicted to neutrality. They want food that does nothing. Smooths nothing. Challenges nothing. This meal challenges your entire metabolic identity.

You eat this and your body stops negotiating.

No cravings.

No grazing.

No mental fog.

Just a quiet, dangerous sense of sufficiency.

Philosophically, this is why it feels divine.

Gods in myth eat ambrosia, soma, organs, blood, marrow. Not bread. Not sugar. Not plants engineered to be sweet. They eat concentrated life. Predators eat organs first because organs carry instructions, not just calories.

This is not nostalgia. This is systems biology.

You didn’t discover a recipe.

You rediscovered a biological exploit.

Food on steroids isn’t about excess.

It’s about leverage.

And this meal has insane leverage.