Author: Chris Rivard Page 31 of 36

I’ve seen the future in Singapore, and I have basically stopped using the social media.

This is a good observation of where technology mediated human interactions are going. I wouldn’t say what is observed by the author is limited to Singapore, but it’s still a good example.

I’m not going to tweet it, because then I wouldn’t be able to comment on it. Such a massive shortcoming of twitter (wow what happened to Branch?). I don’t agree that conversations should be limited to 140 characters. What idiocy. As a software designer, one of the barriers I constantly run into (and attempt to circumvent) is implementation model design. Designing a system because there are engineering limitations to the design, or worse: engineering setting the direction of the design. Twitter is limited to 140 characters because the underlying technology (SMS) is limited to 140 characters. Think about that for a few seconds…time’s up.

We’re living in the time where platforms for human interaction have been developed by technologists. Ask an engineer how they would solve a human communication problem and they start writing code.

The article reminded me of the issue that arises when I’m suffering in beautiful places, a passion of mine. Climbing or skiing or running. The surroundings are sublime. So why should I pause to take a picture? Who is the picture for? Does the picture capture the moment? Almost never. An image is only a weak representation of the experience. A copy of a copy. Inadequate in my opinion. Oftentimes the picture is meant to broadcast the signal that “I was here and did this thing, had this experience, and you were not”. Sad you. #fomo. I abhor stopping to take pictures as it interrupts the flow of whatever I’m doing at the time.

I was at a conference years ago and one of the speakers (a very popular speaker on the circuit  [the intelligentsia]) was speaking about her use of social media, specifically Twitter. And she said that every tweet is carefully curated to establish her online persona. I was shocked at the time to consider that someone would only choose to broadcast information that furthered the construction of a persona that may or may not be real. This was naiveté on my part (5 years ago). It’s only lately that I’ve learned to embrace my maladroit social habits as a way to make the pretentious uncomfortable. I’m just having fun.

A parallel to this same concept is that when I meet people in person who have LARGE social media presences, it is oftentimes an enormous letdown to learn that in the flesh they are really not very interesting. In fact, they are the antithesis of someone you would invite to join you for coffee. You say captain of industry,  I say one dimensional.

And throughout all of this advancement of technology and mediated social interactions, exists the divide between the rich and the poor. White collar workers have Linkedin, where they can carefully curate their professional reputations, laborers and service workers have Angie’s list, where they can be reviewed by said white collar office drones.

Consider an article in the Economist from a few days ago, The wolves of the web. There is a quote in the article by Robert Reich where he points to the “secession of the successful” and notes the difference of the past where the monied moved from the city to the suburbs, in this case, techies want the benefits of the city and are “seceding in plain sight” by buying up and gentrifying “whole urban districts”.

Success will allow you to buy gluten-free, free-range organic [X], but it also allows you to check out if you like. Poor people will not have that option. It strikes me as eerily similar to the food deserts that exist in the deep south of the U.S. There is a KFC or McDonald’s on every corner and a dearth of organic brussel sprouts. There is useless information being generated and consumed at a record pace, but well-written, well thought-out ideas are quite rare.

Being unplugged will be reserved for those who can afford it.

First draft.

If there is a distinct sound that reminds me of my neighborhood, it is the jingling sound of bottles  being pushed in a shopping cart down the narrow concrete streets.

I was walking my dogs on Belmont and passed a indigent man tending to his cart and just as one of my dogs (whose nickname is Low-4 because he can overcome any terrain, but only has one speed), stopped to sniff a juniper the cart and man pulled up beside us on the sidewalk.

“Nice dogs”, he starts, the stub of a cigarette smoldering in one hand, the other firmly grasping the handle of his cart. He’s bent slightly and he moves his head and neck together with a stiffness earned from years of keeping his head down and his eyes averted.

He then recounts to me a story of a woman whose husband has died and left her with 5 pugs. She walks them up and down Hawthorne Boulevard every day, no matter the weather. During the snowstorm last week he saw her walking on the snow and ice covered sidewalks and she stopped to tell him about her oldest pug.  This particular pug reminded her of her dead husband.

“Why’s that?” I asked, taking the bait.
“Because he just lies around the house and only comes around when he wants something.”

The story went on for a few minutes, but the story wasn’t the interesting part. More interesting was the man telling it. The way he looked past me as if we were two drunks perched atop barstools at Sewickley’s Addition; faces pointed forward and slightly down staring ahead for a thousand yards. He was living entirely in his head. I didn’t really need to be standing there at all and the story would have gone on.

My dogs were busy sniffing around. The man had nowhere to go.
So we just stood there for a few more minutes and I enjoyed his story.

[youtube https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aJDH76zY2IE]

http://www.strava.com/activities/115271772

When I was a little kid we used to drive the Mohawk Trail between grandparent visits from Pittsfield to Greenfield (MA). There was always a big debate because while it was more scenic, it was longer. I loved that drive. I took the scenic route today and linked up a few of my favorite runs in Forest Park. Pretty much all of them.

In running there is a continuum between two poles. At one end is “keeping it together” and at the other end is “losing your shit”.  Everyone can keep it together in the beginning, it’s relatively easy. But it becomes more difficult to hold after a few hours. Given a long  period of time (different for everyone), everything falls apart and no matter who you are, you’ll lose your shit.

When I got down from Council Crest ( the biggest vertical drop on this run), where the trail changes from muddy singletrack to tarmac,  I let loose my loudest Mohawk war cry. There were some people at Marquam Shelter that I scared, but I was gone and down the road before they even saw me.

It felt *great*; and at that point with about 4 miles to go until home, I knew today was a “keep it together” day.

Nutrition notes:

• 45 mins: 1 whole wheat fig newton+ some diluted gatorade (still too strong). Lower Macleay trailhead. Mile 7.
• 1:20: Vanilla Clif shot. Pittock Mansion. Water. Mile 9.
• 1:55: Vanilla Clif shot. Lookout at the Arboretum. Water. Mile 12.
• 2:35: Gatorade and water. Mile 15.

I should have had something at mile 14 but I couldn’t find anything within reach with my vest on and didn’t want to take it off b/c it was cold and I was wet. Need to put more food in more accessible places next time.

Overall, pretty dialed. I probably would have had a faster closing pace with better nutrition between miles 14 – 17.

Slow thinking has the feeling of something you do. It’s deliberate. – Kahneman

If you want to do something well, you need to do it often. If you want to run fast, you have to run really fast. It’s really quite simple. I try to be very deliberate about pace and effort. And easy day means *really* easy – conversational pace, rpms low. A hard day means you might puke from the effort. Either way it’s a deliberate choice. If you want to be neither fast nor slow, just mediocre… then that’s how you train. My schedule is so busy right now that I’m having trouble getting the harder efforts in the plan, so things are feeling very comme ci comme ça. Meh.

I spent some quality time with the foam roller last night and massage stick before I went to bed and my legs felt good this morning. Lunch run today was the standard Washington Park / Wildwood / Japanese Garden loop. I felt great, but my times were meh.

Temps today were in the low 40s with a light drizzle. I was in shorts, long sleeve zip t and hat. Running  trails in those conditions is very nice. Muddy fun jumping logs and splashing in the big  puddles.

The clouds settled low in the trees and a thick fog sat about 50 feet above the forest floor. One of the unique qualities of the PNW rainforest is how fast things grow and decompose. The understory is a bed of moss and ferns, new saplings growing from the decomposing trunks of massive Doug firs.  It’s such a stark contrast to the New Mexico desert and the relentless sun and wind that bake and scour the landscape. I’m not sure which I prefer. In a place like New Mexico, one could never get lost in the landscape – all you had to do was look to the direction of the sun, or use the mountains as a guide.  The mountains are in the East, the sun will set to the West, Santa Fe is North, Socorro is South. Simple. Friends from New Mexico who moved to the PNW would return with the complaint that they lost their sense of direction because they couldn’t see the horizon.

Maybe I just don’t mind being lost.

[youtube https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=T4qICd3ldLU]

Closing in on my threshold of work/running/sleep/nutrition capacity this week. It’s as if a soccer ball were balanced on a table and the above 4 are the legs of the table. In order for the ball to stay balanced, the 4 legs must remain the same length.

Stress is like a big, soft, furry puppy running around the room — ready to bump the table at any moment (just play along dear reader)… More work + more running and I need good nutrition and lots of sleep in order to flush the system clean.

The easiest to manage is actually sleep… without it the ball tumbles… and I get sick. I’m trying to bump my running mileage this week as I’m racing in 4 weeks. The plan is to periodize high, and then taper down to a low mileage week before the race. This week is crucial.

Exercise has amazing stress relieving benefits … up to a certain point. Beyond that point, the recovery from the exercise smashes into the stress and the benefits plummet. This is bad.

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And they sat in the car with the ignition off and both doors open on that warm June night as the sun faded and the insect crescendo of the meadow slowly rose. Exhausted after a day of climbing in the Valley they turned up the volume on the stereo, reclined their seats and closed their eyes. The music started and it was beautiful.

Ahhh… to be immortalized on the internets.

Read something recently about how sloppy dressers ultimately develop sloppy thinking. It was about entrepreneurs sitting in the back of the room playing on their mobiles and then swooping in to say something off topic and then leaving. Lay-errs!

As I was pressing my shirt this morning I was thinking:

Crisp shirt, crisp thinking.

#1

And reviewing some design documents later in the day:

Better the design to be simple than clever.

#2

And it was very clever.

It’s quiet and there is nothing else to do but talk.

http://www.strava.com/activities/113481878

A pellet stove starts when the auger in the hopper turns a quarter turn and drops a few pellets into the fire pot.

Most pellet stoves have an electric heating element in the bottom of the fire pot that begins to warm the pellets. They soon begin to smolder and after about 2 minutes, they combust.

The auger then makes a full turn and drops more pellets into the pot. Once the fire is blazing in the fire pot, the blower turns on pushes the warm air out into the room.

They’re extremely efficient and can typically burn wood pellets or corn kernels (acquired from feed store) if pellets are in short supply. Corn is more difficult to clean out as a result of the sugars burning which results in the formation of clinkers. They’re really the only waste that is generated. Very efficient.

When you’re outside exercising in the cold you warm up the same way a pellet stove warms up. From the inside.

Heavy rain today and temps around 40 degrees. I didn’t want to run.

I procrastinated and procrastinated and milled around and drank more coffee and read the paper front to back.

And I went through my list of excuses for why I shouldn’t run:

• hard run yesterday
• tired legs
• tired heart
• bruised heal
• didn’t get enough sleep
• want to be fresh tomorrow
• it’s raining
• it’s cold
• it’s windy
• there isn’t enough time

Once I went through the list (a few times) there were no more excuses. I’m not very good at fooling myself. I thought about the small amount of time I would be outside in the cold and rain. And about the hot green chai I would drink when I got home, stripping off my wet clothes and putting on my puffy, more tea, a hot shower, a bagel with almond butter and honey. Walking around the house in bare feet.  It was a cozy picture. And  it worked.

I packed up the UD vest, put my phone in a plastic ziploc, tied my shoes, put on some music and went outside to get to work. No expectations, no self-apologies necessary, past the excuses. Opening my mind to whatever experience was to come.

Everyone goes through the same thing … in work or exercise or really just taking action and moving forward. In sports, in racing … I learned a secret a long time ago, everyone hurts the same when things are difficult. Who can move past it? How do you manage it?

Yesterday I was in flow state numerous times on my trail run (3 to be exact) . In fact, I said aloud to myself, “This feels sooo good right now”. The universe was in alignment. I was centered, focused, relaxed. I could modulate my effort at a micro scale… speed up, slow down – jump some rocks, fly. Difficult to explain,  but that’s what flow feels like.

People are fallible – they’re frightened, unsure of themselves. I think of it like an idea. Everyone has them, they exist inside. But you have to nurture them and grow them. They need to be cared for and cultivated. Be nice to yourself. Be patient.

There is always a reason not to do something – they typically all stem from fear. Fear of failing, fear of disappointing someone, fear of being wrong (sometimes fear of being right).

And the funny thing is – if this all sounds cliché – it’s because there is always the kernel of truth in a cliché (that’s why it’s cliché).

As I was running over the Hawthorne Bridge into downtown today – I remembered something I read on Stevie Haston’s blog last year… think of the work as your treat.

If instead of saying:
“I can’t do this today. I’m frightened.”… say instead:
“This is my treat today.” Enjoy it. And I did.

[youtube https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wWE0_9kjqJo]

http://www.strava.com/activities/113298243

I wore the UD vest today and carried my phone. I really hesitated to take a photo, b/c a photo just doesn’t do justice to this section.

This is the start of the steep climb up to Pittock Mansion looking back down the trail. Muddy today – and so much fun.  The forest really opens up looker’s left. Behind me is a brutal climb at mile 4. One of my favorites.

Nearing the top of the climb as I began to drop it into a harder gear and begin making my way down the other side, an old man walking with his adult son turned to me as I passed him and said, “Ohhh… look out… serious jogger here.” It was cute.

Portland was thrown into chaos last week with the bi-decade (is that a word?) snowstorm.

I was struck by the frenzy the snow caused that crossed all demographics. I took the kids sledding at Laurelhurst Park amidst teens huddled around in circles looking at their phones, older couples cross country skiing through the park and of course the little ones sledding down the slopes. Dogs running everywhere. It seemed like the entire city came out to play in the snow.

Saturday morning I took my old AT skis and skinned up Belmont and up to Mt. Tabor. There was enough snow to ski all the way from the top to the lower reservoir.  It was more of a novelty than anything. I took my son with me (below)… it was just like old times when we were both young men and used to skin up Sandia Peak in the sunny New Mexico spring to make  turns back down.

He has always earned his turns. The first couple of times he would follow my ski turns, then he realized he could tear straight downslope and catch me at the turn.