From Now Until 2790…

Going back 250,000 years, the approximate time homo sapiens have inhabited the earth, 100-billion of us have lived. With few downward fluctuations, the human population has increased every year. If that increase ended today, and we leveled off at the current population of just over 7-billion people, that would fix our an annual birth rate at 130-million. At the rate of 130-million persons born each year, it would take just 770-years for the next 100-billion persons to be born. That would take us to the year 2790, should we make it that far.

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Consider this…

If we do make it to 2790, then most of the human beings who will have ever lived haven’t even been born as of today. In just 770 years, more human beings will be born than in the first quarter million years of our existence. That’s remarkable to me — that most of humanity will live in an amount of time that’s a fraction of the time human beings took to arrive at today.

What’s also remarkable is that between now and 2790, there will be just 25 generations. That’s a fraction of the 8,500 generations prior. Still, these next 25 generations might be the most significant in human history, and may have more ownership in the possible outcomes of human existence than the the previous 8,500 generations. The next 25 generations will have the potential to pass along our best traits, as well as our worst.

Putting the spotlight on this narrow slice of humanity is the best reminder that the choices we make today, as individuals and as societies, are supremely correlated with all the possible outcomes for the human species. Every decision our elected leaders make, from defense policy, to public health, waste management and recycling, race relations, spending, ethics, journalism, and technology matter.

Our individual choices matter just as much. From how much toothpaste we put on the toothbrush, to how much we drive per day, how much we eat, how much we argue, how many paper towels we use at a time, and especially how we treat others. What may appear to be our simplest and most insignificant individual choices may have a weighted impact the future of man.

Our generation is one of just a handful that are pivotal. We can refuse to learn, refuse to teach, refused to accept, refuse to take action and kick the can down the road like most every generation before us. If you do the math though, that road ahead may only be 25 generations long.

This is what I think about when I ride…. Jhciacb

This Week By The Numbers…

Bikes Ridden: 7
201 miles
8,400’ climbing
14.7 mph avg
11,207 calories
13 hours 37 minutes seat time

Whether you ride a bike or not, thank you for taking the time to ride along with me today. If you haven’t already, please scroll up and subscribe. If you like what you read, give it a like and a share. If not, just keep scrollin’. Oh, and there’s this from Wishbone Ash. Enjoy…!

Let The Music Be My Master…

Though I have no way to accurately measure this, I estimate that my thoughts turn to music — songs, lyrics, albums, or bands and artists every 15 minutes or so. Those thoughts may be fleeting, but they continually bounce around my head like balls in a bingo hopper.

I earn my living as a fitness trainer, something I enjoy doing and am grateful for. In teaching exercise, I’m always in the presence of others when I work. I’m also a caregiver for my elderly mother. When I’m not working with clients, mom is never more 30-feet from me. I’m in face-time, all day long.

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For much of my adult life, playing albums and more recently digital music, has been a daily ritual for me. In the mornings while prepping for my day, in the evenings while cooking, and on the weekends while doing household chores and yardwork. Engaged in any of that, applying my personal soundtrack has always enhanced those experiences.

The most important of my music rituals though, has always been Sunday mornings on the porch, sipping coffee with my dog on my lap and listening to the Cowboy Junkies, James McMurtry, and Colin Hay among others.

Then, five years ago, I made the decision to move both my business and my mother into my home on the same week. Since I’m either in the presence of clients or my mother, there’s little opportunity to run music in the background or to just sit and enjoy it in purposeless relaxation.

In bicycling, one rides with their ears first. Awareness of what’s around you might save your life, so listening to music while cycling is never an option.

It comes in bits and pieces these days. I wake up early and before I commit to too much of anything, I pick one song to listen to — from beginning to end. No specific genre, just whatever pops into my head first. Usually it’s via Spotify or YouTube.

As the day goes on, and if I get a break in-between clients, fixing meals for mom, or taking care of the pets, I try and listen to another song or two. One of the upsides of social media is that friends share songs regularly. Sometimes old songs, sometimes new, very often songs or artists I’ve never heard before. I have something called The Rule Of Three…

In a day’s time, I attempt to listen to three songs shared by other people. It reminds me to stop and listen to a little music, often exposes me to something new, and may even improve my mood. I think this is a good way to be.

And as I snack on songs intermittently throughout the day, they sustain me but they don’t necessarily nourish me in the same way sitting on my porch and listening to an album once did.

And as the day winds down and I crawl into bed, my laptop is on my bedside table facing toward me. I watch documentaries about music, bands, and the recording process. I watch interviews with musicians, music executives, and producers. I might also sneak in one or two more songs at low volume so I don’t wake my mom.

The way I listen tomusic has changed in recent years, a response to the way my life has changed. What hasn’t changed, is that music is one of the best best friends I’ve ever had.

Lastly, as I reflect back on this I realize the most important relationships I’ve had and continue to maintain seem to involve music — either directly or peripherally. I think that’s beautiful. 

This is what I think about when I ride… Jhciacb

This Week By The Numbers…

Bikes Ridden: 6
174 miles
7,400’ climbing
14.9 mph avg
9,800 calories
11 hours 36 minutes seat time

Whether you ride a bike or not, thank you for taking the time to ride along with me today. If you haven’t already, please scroll up and subscribe. If you like what you read, give it a like and a share. If not, just keep scrollin’. Oh, and there’s this new gem from the great Joe Ely. Enjoy…!

A Missed LaChance…

With the police being so much in the news lately, my riding-mind has been revisiting a slice of my life from 35 years ago. In my early 20s, before enlisting in the United States Coast Guard, but after my time working with Nautilus Fitness Centers, I applied to a four-year law enforcement program at Mesa College (now Colorado Mesa University) in Grand Junction Colorado. The year I applied was the inaugural year of the program.

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It was a unique program for a couple of reasons, not the least of which was four-year law enforcement programs weren’t common in the early 1980s. It also stood out because the entire curriculum was to be taught by one man, a retired police Lieutenant and psychologist named Paul LaChance.

I’d made one trip to Grand Junction to meet LaChance prior to enrolling in the program. He spent an hour with me, we connected well, and I felt that I could count on him to help me through the program. As a reading challenged student, the ability to connect with his human side was important.

There were roughly a dozen students enrolled in the program, though at 21, I was the oldest in the group. Still, I was fearful I might not have the fortitude to stick it out for four years, but I didn’t want to spend the rest of my life teaching people how to do squats and lat-pulldowns.

On the first day of class I took my seat among the other students when a man entered the room and addressed the class. He had long hair, glasses, wore a sloppy suit, and began to speak…

He explained that LaChance, the man who was supposed to teach the program, had cut deep into one of his arms with a tablesaw a few days prior. He was hospitalized indefinitely. The man speaking was a local attorney and former police officer who agreed to cover for LaChance until his return. I honestly don’t remember his name.

What I do remember is that after the first few weeks of classes, I found myself unengaged and unable to receive his lectures. It didn’t help that he wasn’t available for assistance after classes due to the legal practice he also maintained. The assigned reading became more important since the substitute wasn’t as prepared as LaChance. I found the whole thing difficult to the point of exasperation.

One month in, we were told LaChance wouldn’t return until the following semester. The first semester would be  facilitated by the substitute. On learning this, I immediately quit attending classes, but didn’t officially drop out of school until the end of the semester — so I could continue living in the dorms rather than return home to get a job.

The following spring I enlisted in the United States Coast Guard thinking that, absent of any related degree, it would be a logical steppingstone to a law enforcement career. Anything, so I wouldn’t have to teach squats and lat-pulldowns for a living.

Simple twists of fate — we swim within them all day long. They surround us like parallel universes with on and off ramps that we continually traverse, but never actually see.

When I’m out there riding, hiding from the ills of the day, and when I’m pushing my body as both meditation and medication, I sometimes wonder what my life would have become had Mr. LaChance not cut into his arm with a tablesaw prior to the start of that program. Perhaps I would’ve completed the program and proceeded into a law enforcement career. Maybe not.

The events of this week have had me questioning how I would respond to peaceful protesters, and those not so peaceful. I’m short-tempered by nature, and well into my 30s I was aggressive, if not combative, with anyone who might have disagreed with me. In hindsight, it’s easy to see I wouldn’t have been a very good police officer, especially in matters of dealing with crowds, but probably in most other matters too.

Apparently fate got this one right. Each day, in-between teaching squats and lat-pulldown‘s, I get to ride my bike and take it all in. I landed where I’m supposed to be.

This is what I think about when I ride… Jhciacb

This Week By The Numbers…
Bikes Ridden: 6
194 miles
9,100’ climbing
14.6 mph avg
10,900 calories
13 hours 16 minutes seat time

Whether you ride a bike or not, thank you for taking the time to ride along with me today. If you haven’t already, please scroll up and subscribe. If you like what you read, give it a like and a share. If not, just keep scrollin’. Oh, and there this from The Vulgar Boatmen. Enjoy…

Life Like Piecrust…

When I think of piecrust, I think of three women — my late mother-in-law, her daughter (my former wife), and our daughter. Each made incredible piecrust, the recipe passed down from the generations above. To this day, their piecrusts stand out from any others I’ve tasted.

I think about that all the time, but not in a way that necessarily causes me to crave pie. Rather, in a way that reminds me how to live. You see, those three women not only made excellent piecrust, but each has embodied the roles and characteristics of piecrust as they lived their lives.

Wait, what…?

Piecrust is the ultimate support system.

Though it has its own distinct flavor, piecrust isn’t and never tries to be the star of the show. Piecrust lays low and attempts to blend in. Despite its importance, piecrust would rather you remember the filling.

Piecrust has to be strong. By weight, piecrust is usually a fraction that which sit on top of it, but it must hold the whole thing together. If the piecrust fails, then there is no pie, only stew. In that sense, piecrust must have a strong back and a constant presence.

Piecrust is good with being anonymous. It doesn’t require its name to be on the marquee, it seeks only to be appreciated. When pie receives a complement, piecrust is satisfied and humbled, knowing it did its part.

Piecrust, good piecrust anyway, isn’t complicated. It consists of just a few basic ingredients. The key to good piecrust is assembling those ingredients properly and never in haste.

I could go on, but I think you get the point. In a world where so many people attempt to stand out, take credit, steal the show, and take more than they give, perhaps more of us could attempt to live like piecrust. It’s no coincidence that the three women I know who made the best piecrust I’ve ever had, also lived their lives like the piecrust they made.

Blend in.

Be strong.

Pursue appreciation, not stardom.

Be simple.

These are the characteristics that make good piecrust, and good people.

This is what I think about when I ride…. Jhciacb

This Week By The Numbers…
Bikes Ridden: 7
185 miles
9,200’ climbing
15.5 mph avg
10,500 calories
11 hours 59 minutes seat time

Whether you ride a bike or not, thank you for taking the time to ride along with me today. If you haven’t already, please scroll up and subscribe. If you like what you read, give it a like and a share. If not, just keep scrollin’. Oh, and there this from Spain. Enjoy…

Something ‘Bout Inner Peace…

There’s much I want to say this week, but I don’t think anybody’s listening. People are busy now, looking through their 7-inch and 60-inch windows to the world.

Too many are occupied with making snap judgments, arguing, predicting the future, moralizing, pointing fingers, and shunning responsibility. All the while, ignoring options, taking their eyes off the ball, forgetting what matters, and failing to connect with those who do matter.

I’ll sit this one out this week. I have things to say, but I’ll save them for another day — when people might actually listen. In the meantime, here are some pictures from the week that was — my week that was. These have nothing to do with politics, the psychology of rioting, infectious disease, The wearing of masks, mass gatherings, mail-in ballots, wet markets, stock markets, or personal liberties.

These pictures I take each day, they are the opposite of hate, the opposite of fear, the opposite of rage, and the opposite of rubber bullets. These are the opposite of ignorance.

This is what I think about when I ride, when I sit, and when I walk… Jhciacb

This Week By The Numbers…

Bikes Ridden: 7
199 miles
9,800’ climbing
15.3 mph avg
11,300 calories
13 hours 00 minutes seat time

Whether you ride a bike or not, thank you for taking the time to ride along with me today. If you haven’t already, please scroll up and subscribe. If you like what you read, give it a like and a share. If not, just keep scrollin’. Oh, and there this from Beausoleil. Enjoy…

 

Anything Else…

Like many, I think almost nonstop these days about our global health crisis and all that goes with it. For a guy who’s addicted to thinking about as many things as possible in the course of a day, that’s frustrating. I’ve been trying to think about other things, but I’m struggling.

My bike time — this 2-hour escape hatch I fall through each day is when I open any one of a thousand doors in my mind, and go down any one of a thousand rabbit holes, leading to a thousand more still. It’s free association at an 80 rpm’s and 15 miles-per-hour and I never know where my thoughts will end up.

The things I most think about when I ride, not necessarily in order, are friendships, music, religion, philosophy, and cycling itself. A single thought on any one of those can take me on a journey to the most distant places in my mind. That reflects my cycling itself — that as my bike travels both new and familiar roads, so too does my mind.

As I pedal lately though, I’ve been stuck thinking about the same things everyone else seems to be — masks, hand sanitizer, finances, divisiveness, protocols and boundaries, etc.

When I’m riding down Fallbrook’s beautiful Rice Canyon and should otherwise be reflecting on the tie-dye dress my daughter wore in kindergarten or first kisses with a freckled-face girl, I’m now asking myself banal questions like…

Am I cleaning off my groceries the right way…?

Am I going to kill my mother by breathing on her…?

Do the neighbors think I’m a dick because I won’t walk across the street to say hello anymore…?

Is using hand sanitizer on my plastic gloves good enough to clean them…?

How many of my clients will be willing to wear a mask when they workout with me in the future — will they workout with me in the future…?

Is this country ever going to heal…?

Of course these questions are worthy of consideration, but I get on my bike to escape this type of mundane thinking, not to fine-tune it.

When I attempted to turn my thoughts back to the things that most interest me, within seconds, those very interests lead me right back to the pandemic.

Part of the joy in writing here each week, and each morning on my Spoke And Word Facebook page, is that I get to share what goes on in the mind of a guy who spends two hours a day on a bike, and how how varied those thoughts might be.

Most everything I want to write these days goes something like this…

Hello world. Today I rode a bike and spent the entire two hours convincing myself not to put a Glock in my mouth. Success! Stay tuned, I’ll be back tomorrow with more…

People keep talking about what they look forward to most as the restrictions become lifted — hugging loved ones, dining in restaurants, getting back to the gym, etc. I’m just looking forward to thinking about anything else — all things non-pandemic.

This is what I think about when I ride… Jhciacb

This Week By The Numbers…

Bikes Ridden: 7
199.96 miles
9,800’ climbing
15.5 mph avg
11,000 calories
12 hours 54 minutes seat time

Whether you ride a bike or not, thank you for taking the time to ride along with me today. If you haven’t already, please scroll up and subscribe. If you like what you read, give it a like and a share. If not, just keep scrollin’. Oh, and there’s this from Concrete Blonde. Enjoy…

 

The New Secondhand Smoke…

A recurring theme in my thought-blender this week, while churning through the canyon communities of Rainbow, Pala, Valley Center, and here in Fallbrook, was the notion of secondhand smoke.

Secondhand smoke, as we all know, does peripheral damage to people who never light up. The extent of that damage can be hard to trace, but we can say with certainty that secondhand smoke has caused illness, birth defects, and even death in people who’ve spent significant time near smokers or in places were smoke gathers in excess — casinos for example.

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Somehow this week, pushing my way past roadside shrapnel, broken glass, and the uneven pavement of these rural San Diego roads, I connected the idea of secondhand smoke with other secondhand toxins.

These are everywhere these days, and we’re all breathing them in, whether we realize it or not.

In no particular order, they are…

Secondhand ignorance
Secondhand grandeur
Secondhand hate
Secondhand weakness
Secondhand prejudice
Secondhand intolerance

They are grown in the darkest places of the human psyche — where bacteria best take hold, and exhaled, sometimes with malice, but often innocently.

Secondhand fear though, is chief among them. Secondhand fear is the mortar that seals the gaps and holds the tiles of all the other toxins together. Sometimes when I ride — often when I ride, I’m simply trying to outrun all of these toxins. They are at the core of my people fatigue.

In the same way that people have gotten sick, and even died due to secondhand smoke, I’m beginning to wonder if all this secondhand hate isn’t adversely affecting my health — not just my mental health, but my physical health. I’m not trying to be clever when I pose that idea either.
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I ask myself regularly if, when I stand in proximity to others, as I interact with people on social media, and as I receive information via print and broadcast media, it isn’t similar to passing through casino, only to be quietly poisoned by all that secondhand smoke…?

Secondhand smoke is a legitimate public health concern — governments have regulated it, and those regulations have saved millions of lives. Secondhand hate though, and its lesser constituents can never be regulated because the implications in relation to our right to free speech are too significant. Still, as I ride my bike each day, often pedaling as fast as I can to outrun it all, I wonder if we can’t police this ourselves, just a little bit better.

This ride though, it works. I ride and I forget. Then I come back — to a society filled with gutless behaviors fronted by secondhand hate, and I sink back into myself, questioning whether the toxins from others are weakening my immune system. That’s when I begin to think about tomorrow’s ride. Is it tomorrow yet…?

This is what I think about when I ride… Jhciacb

This Week By The Numbers…

Bikes Ridden: 7
204 miles
10,500’ climbing
15.1 mph avg
12,000 calories
13 hours 34 minutes seat time

Whether you ride a bike or not, thank you for taking the time to ride along with me today. If you haven’t already, please scroll up and subscribe. If you like what you read, give it a like and a share. If not, just keep scrollin’. Oh, and there’s this from Elbow. Enjoy…

What’s On My Mind…

I promised myself that I wouldn’t write about the current health crisis this week. People have had enough, myself included. I thought maybe, if I could work myself into a creative mode, I might be able to offer up a distraction.

Yesterday though, while stopped at an intersection on my bike, and looking at two older people in a silver Lexus beside me, both wearing masks, l burst into tears. It’s the only time I can remember freezing when seeing a red light turn green. I wasn’t able to move my feet or legs. I just gasped with deep breaths as a couple of tears fall from my cheek to my tongue. At some point, it dawned on me that green means go and I got back into the rhythm of the ride. But for the next 30 miles, I was stuck in that moment.

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A couple of nights ago I sent a note to a friend, a surgeon in North Florida, checking to see how he’s doing in the midst of all this. He replied by telling me he was doing okay. Like me, he lives in a rural area where things aren’t so bad. But he included this quote in his reply…

”Yesterday, I watched a doctor in Spain crying as he reported on how they are letting people over 65 die so the ventilators can be used for younger patients. That was hard.”

That thought was still fresh in my head when I broke down at the intersection and froze at the green light.

I had already been reflecting on stories I’d seen from Italy, New York, and beyond. I’ve been thinking about my friend Gayle who lives in India — I’m very concerned for their plight.

Two mornings ago I was entering the local market when I passed a grocery cart stacked so high with food and supplies that I couldn’t see the person pushing it from behind. It was a friend and client. She ducked her head as I passed, so not to be seen by me. I didn’t let on.

In California, for now anyway, restaurants can be open — for takeout only. I’ve seen a number of social media posts suggesting we support these small businesses by purchasing some of our meals from them. I’m sorry, but if things are really this bad, then restaurants should be closed. If grocery stores are open, people can eat. Having restaurants open might be good for the restaurant owners and the few employees getting any work out of it, but it puts more people into the mix and right now, I think that risk far outweighs any reward.
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The last day I worked was March 11th. I’m losing $300-$350 per day by not working. I can’t say I’m taking that loss with a smile, but I’ll figure it out because not working is the moral thing to do. I know of three fitness trainers/facilities that are still operating, despite the order that closed all gyms and fitness outlets. One is a multi-use gym, and the other two are private facilities like mine. One is directly across the street from me. I’m not bitter, truly, I just don’t understand.

Our often criticized governor, Gavin Newsom, was one of the first to invoke the shelter-in-place order. Whatever shortcomings he might possess as governor, taking that bold action so early has saved hundreds, and will ultimately save thousands of lives, though that may never be quantified. Newsom, in my opinion, has been an exemplary leader through this. Those participating in the effort to recall Newsom, might take a look at their children, spouses, or grandparents before taking another step.

I feel helpless. I have close ties to several nonprofits in the community. I’m on the volunteer call list for a few of them. However, I also care for my 90-year-old mother and need to keep my exposure limited on her behalf. I’m doing no volunteering other than for my own household.

In the meantime, the dog and the cat are happy and rarely without human contact. I’m giving mom more Coca-Cola than usual because, why not…? She’s 90 and is survivor of the great depression and World War II. Until further notice, Coke is a vegetable in this household — 3 servings per day.

As for me, my routine hasn’t changed much aside from missing work. I walk daily, taking dozens of pictures while Stroodle’s ‘hurry up’ eyes stare me down. I ride my bike because it soothes the chaos in my head, if only for a while. I write, because I feel compelled to do so and to share.

I’m hopeful, that this will be a turning point for our species. I’m not necessarily optimistic, but I’m hopeful. As I write this, I’m watching an episode of Love It Or List It. There’s a couple arguing about the color of backsplash above the granite countertop of the $900,000 home they’re considering. They’re a part of the reason I’m not optimistic.

The reasons why I’m hopeful though, despite not being optimistic, are all the people in the medical community who are literally putting their lives on the line right now and will be doing so for months, including my doctor friend in North Florida.

And when I contemplate what lessons, if any, we’ll learn from this, the only one that’s clear to me right now is to say I love you to everything that moves, because we truly are in this together.

This is what I think about when I ride… Jhciacb

This Week By The Numbers…

Bikes Ridden: 6
182 miles
7,800 climbing
15.0 mph avg
10,300 calories
12 hours 10 minutes seat time

Whether you ride a bike or not, thank you for taking the time to ride along with me today. If you haven’t already, please scroll up and subscribe. If you like what you read, give it a like and a share. If not, just keep scrollin’. Oh, and there’s this. After 12 years of waiting, a brand new album from Stephen Malkmus And The Jicks. Enjoy…

Still Feeling Out The Wormhole…

Like many, after a more than a decade, I still wonder how social media, Facebook in particular, should fit into my life. I still wonder whether it should be a part of my life at all. And in my quietest moments, I’m often concerned about the influence social media has had on my personality.

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In 2006 my life and business were on autopilot. My days were evenly divided between working, exercising, and reading books on religion and philosophy. I didn’t even own a television and I wouldn’t have changed anything. Well into my 40s, for the first time in years, I felt like I was in a good place.

Around that time, I started a fitness blog, partially to bring credibility to my business, but also to speak out about an industry that had become so perverted that I no longer recognized it. One day a friend, a tech-industry insider, suggested that the up and coming social media platform, Facebook, would be a great vehicle to share my writing. She felt Facebook would become, in a short amount of time, the most used form of mass-communication the world had ever seen.

At the time, my internet use was limited to my fitness blog and email only. There was no Netflix streaming, YouTube was in its infancy, and my time on keyboard each day could be measured in minutes, not hours.

Subtly though, over a period of just a couple of years, I began spending more more time on my computer. At that time, I still used a desktop PC — this was 2007 or so. Checking my email, Facebook, and responding to comments on my blog usually took place at the beginning of the day or at the end of the day. If time and circumstance allowed, I might check these media in the middle of the day, but not often.

In 2008, I bought my first laptop. With Wi-Fi being more established in restaurants, coffee houses, and other public places, I began taking my computer with me just about everywhere, mostly so I could write if I was so inspired, and if had the time. I also checked email and Facebook messages more frequently.

In 2013, I got my first smartphone, an iPhone 3. That’s when the quantity of wormholes, and the gravity inside them increased. The camera on my iPhone was better than the point-and-shoot camera I took with me on my hikes. I developed an affinity for smartphone photography. As better apps and filters were being developed to support my photo habit, more platforms manifest to share those pictures, such as Hipstamatic and later Instagram. I began a seamless progression onto the social media road that I still walk today.

Facebook though, was a superior outlet because I could share both my writing as well as my photographs. Facebook was growing fast though and changing form from week to week. The increasing network of warmholes and tunnels were so easily drawn into, that at least a part of my psyche began to reside there, even when I was away from my phone or computer.

Viscerally, I was becoming aware of the negative impact this could have on my time, but I was also becoming concerned about any impact it might have on my personality. I regularly questioned whether this increase of screen time was healthy, though I never answered those questions. This might be analogous to someone enjoying a glass of wine with dinner each evening, but on the inside, knowing the 2nd and 3rd glasses were not as easily justified.

My pattern has been pretty consistent for the last 4 or 5 years — I take a lot of pictures, I write, and I share. Seems harmless, and a good creative outlet, yes…?

“If you’re going to the prom, you best be prepared to dance with them who brung ya…” Bum Phillips

The world has changed a great deal in the last 13 or 14 years since Facebook and other social media platforms took off. What has changed the most, is the profound impact social media has had on journalism, institutions, as well the unscrupulous companies pitching their wares while simultaneously mining for personal data. It’s a web of agenda and manipulation the likes of which the world has never seen — one I willingly step into every day.

What began as a platform for social interconnectivity, not only gave everyone a vehicle for their own voice, but each vehicle came with its own road. Within a few years, people and institutions were speeding, changing lanes without looking, changing roads without looking, doing countless U-turns, and constantly changing directions — and there were few rules and even less enforcement. Using social media became a lot like driving in Athens — one is best served to have diligence, patience, a good eye for deception, and a backup plan.

What makes any technology worthwhile is when it’s used for its highest purpose and with the best of intentions. I have no problem saying that most people and most agencies don’t do this with Facebook and other social media platforms. People and institutions, for the most part, behave like children on an unsupervised playground.

I can say with honesty that Facebook and other platforms have enhanced my life in ways I would have never imagined back in 2006. Many aspects of my life have improved due to the connections I’ve made and the information that’s been shared among and between those connections. I’m grateful all of this happened in my lifetime.

Facebook is a generic term to me. It’s not a company, it’s an idea that would have happened anyway, and by any other name. Social media was going to happen no matter what. Facebook just got in line first. Facebook may be broken up by the government in time. It may sell itself into pieces — of its own accord. It may even go into bankrupt someday and come out with a completely different structure. It might even dissolve entirely, if pressed by a competitor which can offer more, although that’s not likely (see Microsoft).

If Facebook disappeared tomorrow, a vacuum would be formed so quickly, it would be replaced within weeks, or sooner. It isn’t Facebook the company which has changed the world so much. It’s been the ability to communicate so quickly and with so many people — social media is about the efficiency of being human. How we continue to use this technology is up to us, but it’s not going anywhere. I still plan to use it for purposes of good, how about you…?

This is what I think about when I ride… Jhciacb

This Week By The Numbers…

Bikes Ridden: 7
199 miles
8,900′ climbing
15.0 mph avg
1,1,200 calories

Whether you ride a bike or not, thank you for taking the time to ride along with me today. If you haven’t already, please scroll up and subscribe. If you like what you read, give it a like and a share. If not, just keep scrollin’. Oh, and there’s this from James Reyne. Enjoy…

People Are The Crack…

In the 1980s, crack-cocaine propagated faster and with more disastrous results than any drug in history. In addition to the damage it would do to the lives, the families, and the businesses it disrupted, it became most used metaphor for addiction ever.

Not a day goes by that I don’t read something about our addiction to smartphones — always followed by a comparison to crack. Every time I touch my phone these days I feel guilty, if not ashamed because smartphones have been compared to crack so often.

Not so fast…

This image we have of addicts like me, in zombie-like postures, walking into stop signs, stepping into potholes, and otherwise ignoring the person standing right next to them because they are staring into their 7-inch vortex of intellectual displacement, is not where the story ends — not for me anyway. It’s easy to pass that kind of judgment, but look a little harder.

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This zombie might be paying a bill with my phone. I might be transferring money to my daughter’s bank account so she could go out to eat with her partner later that evening. I might be involved in a serious discussion with a friend on the other side of the world. I might be consulting with a client, either verbally or with text. I might be FaceTiming a friend in Mexico. I might be submitting an application for a small business loan. I might be reading Steven Pinker’s latest book or a relevant essay by William Buckley. Of course there are infinite positive things I might be doing with my smartphone while I’m in that zombie-like posture. And yes, there are infinite ridiculous things I might also be doing.

According to critical thinkers in technology, we are less than two generations away from smartphones, in much smaller sizes, actually being embedded under our skin. For more on that, I’ll suggest reading Homo Deus, by Yuval Noah Harari. Of course, when and if that happens, by definition we will no longer be Homo sapiens.

Back to zombies…

Even if I am a zombie and I stare at my phone for up to 8-hours a day — which I don’t, but for the sake of argument let’s imagine that I do, what keeps me coming back to it is what’s at the center of everyone’s smartphone experience — the people.

The people are the crack.

Whether it’s conversations, songs, videos, or classic books, the people are the crack.

I find it nothing less than miraculous that I can have a conversation about mindfulness with a friend in Australia, or a conversation about dogs with a friend in Virginia just moments apart. I’ve been helping another friend in Northern England, via my smartphone, with his fitness objectives for over a year now. And all of this I do from my zombie-like posture.

Back to crack…

Once you ingest a drug, you have to take the good, the bad, and the ugly of it all until it wears off. You smoke crack and you get high, but you also get the withdrawal and all the physical manifestations that come with it, none of which you can shed instantly.

But with smartphones, the people are the high, but we don’t have to take all the negative side effects that goes with it. We can scroll past them — we can put the phones down and be active, if only for a while. We don’t have to accept any of the negative consequences that come with looking down. Unlike the crack, we have the option of looking away or turning it off altogether.

Ultimately, smartphones are about interconnecting people in a way that is an outright miracle in our lifetime. It is relationships, above all things, that we are here for call me and this handheld technology can foster new relationships and enhance old ones.

I’m Not A Zombie…

I have little doubt that I check my phone as much as anyone this. I scroll as much, I post as much, read as much, and I hold on to this little electronic rectangle — scarcely larger than a bar of soap, as much as anyone I know. But I also know went to put it down, turn it off, walk away from it, or not bring it with me.

I am not a zombie.

I don’t use an app to track my screen time. I can’t tell you how many times per day I check notifications. My smartphone spends much of my day in my left hand, but it spends more time turned upside down on a table or otherwise out of reach.

When it is in my hand though, my phone is a lens, a mirror, and a reflector. It helps me see myself better and helps me see others more clearly — a good reminder of who I am and who I don’t wish to be.

Despite that my phone is often near me or in my left hand, I accomplish as much in the course of the day without using it has anyone I know. I ride my bike daily, I walk daily, I take my mother out daily, and I spend time with my dog and cat daily. I work in my yard, I volunteered my community, I spend time with friends, and I also work. Sometimes these things involve my smartphone and sometimes they don’t.

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There’s no guarantee of Monday, from a Sunday point of view. From the moment I get out of bed each morning until I put my head on my pillow at night, I attempted to live my life to the fullest. Whether my phone is beside me or not is irrelevant.

If I attempt to live my life to the fullest, in no way can I be classified as a zombie. Just a guy attempting to leave a digital record that I was here, that I mattered, and that those I’m connected with matter too.

Last night I went to dinner with my mother and a couple of friends.  At the end of the evening I commented that we were the only people in the restaurant that had never had our phones out. There’s a time and place for everything, or not.

I am not a zombie…!

This is what I think about when I ride… Jhciacb

This Week By The Numbers…

Bikes Ridden: 4
195 miles
9,200’ climbing
15.3 mph avg
11,100 calories
12 hours 45 minutes in the saddle

Whether you ride a bike or not, thank you for taking the time to ride along with me today. If you haven’t already, please scroll up and subscribe. If you like what you read, give it a like and a share. If not, just keep scrollin’. Oh, and there is this from The Billy Nayer Show (Corey McAbee). Enjoy…