The Joy of Bicycling

A joyful ride through Manhattan (2022)

Bicycles emerged on the scene relatively late in human existence. In fact, the first bicycle was introduced by the German inventor Karl von Drais in 1817, a full 13 years after the introduction of the first locomotive in Britain. And it wasn't until 1885 that the "safety bicycle" was introduced, the first bicycle design resembling modern bicycles.

Throughout its history, bicycling has experienced alternating boom and bust cycles. It boomed when the safety bicycle first came on the scene, only to bust when the automobile was first introduced – and for many years following. It experienced a resurgence with the environmental movements and gas crisis of the 1960s and 1970s, only to see its popularity wain once again heading into the 21st century. Most recently, the bicycle has seen a resurgence once again as citizens become more concerned with a changing climate and see the bicycle as an excellent substitute for short car journeys. For more on the efficiency and usefulness of the bicycle, see our previous post "A Primer on Bicycling."

Towards the end of our post "A Primer on Bicycling," we examined how centering urban design around the bicycle really brings the urban space back to a human scale. In this post, I want to examine another, often overlooked, aspect of the bicycle: joy. Think back to when you were a kid and the feeling of freedom at being able to propel yourself around on your first bicycle, far outstripping the distances you could cover on foot. Even as an adult, riding a bicycle provides the rider with freedom of movement and natural exercise, but it also allows space for what I can only describe as a "bicyclist's high." 

It's that feeling of euphoria that comes about from racing down a hill, the long-awaited payoff from the struggle to the top. It's that feeling of satisfaction and accomplishment that you propelled yourself around town rather than relying on an engine (and can now pig out for the rest of the day). It's the recognition of the simplicity of the machine, marveling as the mere pumping of your legs – the pedaling of your feet – drive the bicycle forward. It's the space to let your mind wander in the midst of an otherwise chaotic world. 

With these euphoric feelings in mind, let's take a look at what others have had to say about the bicycle and their experiences with it throughout the years.

"It is by riding a bicycle that you learn the contours of a country best, since you have to sweat up the hills and coast down them. Thus you remember them as they actually are, while in a motor car only a high hill impresses you, and you have no such accurate remembrance of the country you have driven through as you gain by riding a bicycle."  
→ Ernest Hemingway

"Ever bike? Now that's something that makes life worth living!...Oh, to just grip your handlebars and lay down to it, and go ripping and tearing through streets and road, over railroad tracks and bridges, threading crowds, avoiding collisions, at twenty miles or more an hour, and wondering all the time when you're going to smash up. Well, now, that's something! And then go home again after three hours of it...and then to think that tomorrow I can do it all over again!"  
→ Jack London

"Every time I see an adult on a bicycle, I no longer despair for the future of the human race." 
→ HG Wells

"I came out for exercise, gentle exercise, and to notice the scenery and to botanise. And no sooner do I get on that accursed machine than off I go hammer and tongs; I never look to right or left, never notice a flower, never see a view - get hot, juicy, red - like a grilled chop. Get me on that machine and I have to go. I go scorching along the road, and cursing aloud at myself for doing it." 
→ HG Wells

"Get a bicycle. You will not regret it, if you live." 
→ Mark Twain

"When the spirits are low, when the day appears dark, when work becomes monotonous, when hope hardly seems worth having, just mount a bicycle and go out for a spin down the road, without thought on anything but the ride you are taking." 
→ Sir Arthur Conan Doyle

"Nothing compares to the simple pleasure of a bike ride." 
→ John F. Kennedy

"After your first day of cycling, one dream is inevitable. A memory of motion lingers in the muscles of your legs, and round and round they seem to go. You ride through Dreamland on wonderful dream bicycles that change and grow." 
→ HG Wells

"Let me tell you what I think of bicycling. I think it has done more to emancipate women than anything else in the world. I stand and rejoice every time I see a woman ride by on a wheel. It gives a woman a feeling of freedom and self-reliance. It makes her feel as if she were independent... the picture of free, untrammeled womanhood." 
→ Susan B. Anthony

"Meet the future; the future mode of transportation for this weary Western world. Now I'm not gonna make a lot of extravagant claims for this little machine. Sure, it'll change your whole life for the better, but that's all." 
→ Salesman in Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid

A joyful ride through Central Park (2022)

A Primer on Bicycling

A mass of bicycles
Cambridge Train Station, Cambridge, United Kingdom

Riding a bicycle is something that feels fundamental to modern humanity, but is perhaps more accurately described as an acquired taste. It is apparently also a polarizing topic these days. Cycling has become one of many de facto stand-ins for the rhetoric surrounding climate change and political differences. It's often considered liberal to ride a bicycle; I think a more appropriate term would be progressive. Riding a bicycle gets you out of your comfort zone, it requires you to see things differently – it quite literally moves you forward. That is progress; that is progressive. But not everyone sees it that way.

Take a gander at the comment threads of articles covering myriad topics from greenhouse gas emissions to the automobile industry to gridlock to street safety and you will find opinions voicing both support and malice for the humble bicycle. The vitriol is all rather baffling. Yes, we've no doubt all witnessed a cyclist rolling through a red light at one time or another (though the Idaho stop – which alters allowed behavior at stop signs and red lights – is legal in several states); it really is a case of a few bad apples ruining the whole bunch. Additionally, there is no shortage of driver complaints about the slower and more exposed cyclist occupying the same lane or an adjacent lane on public roadways, an arrangement that is decidedly unsafe for the cyclist, unless he is protected by a physical barrier of some sort.

There can be no denying, though, the benefits of cycling. Cycling is low-impact, and therefore contributes to cardiovascular health without damaging effects to the joints. Health benefits also include general fitness as well as reduced stress and anxiety. A further benefit of cycling is reduced traffic congestion, which may explain the corresponding reduction in stress for the rider who is no longer caught in traffic.

From an emissions standpoint, motor vehicles produce an estimated 30% of total carbon dioxide emissions in the US, and of this total it is estimated that 60% is produced early in the trip when the vehicle is operating inefficiently. Cycling is an excellent replacement for these short trips. The efficiency of bicycles could be a gamechanger in the transport industry if only we can bring it to scale: a person on a bike can go approximately 960 miles on the same amount of energy required for a car to travel a mere 20 miles. It is critical, then, that we increase cycling rates to combat climate change; a prospect that appears to have broad public support if only we make it safer. 

There also appears to be sufficient interest in locations with varied climates and political systems, with the percentage of people using bicycles as their primary mode of travel for short distances in China and Japan slightly outstripping the rates seen in places more traditionally considered to be bicycle friendly such as Germany, Belgium, and Sweden. In the United States, a slight majority contends that infrastructure projects should prioritize cars rather than bicycles, though the United States has generally been more reactionary to cycling demand rather than a visionary driver of it. This hasn't always been the case, though. 

The League of American Wheelman, a cycling organization, was an instrumental early proponent of The Good Roads Movement, an advocacy group that sought to update and improve rural roads around the United States in the late 19th and early 20th century. Alongside these efforts, bicycle specific roads were built on each coast, including the 5.5 mile Coney Island Cycle Path in 1894 in Brooklyn (still maintained to this day) and the 18 mile Santa Monica Cycle Path in 1900 that connected famously car-centric Los Angeles to the beach. Unfortunately, the success of the Good Roads Movement would lend a hand in the downfall of the humble bicycle, as road surfacing and road maintenance techniques were already substantially improved when the automobile came along.

And therein lies the rub. It was perhaps inevitable that the automobile – given its convenience, ease, and comfort – would eventually overtake the bicycle in popularity as a practical means of transport. But car-centric infrastructure is not built for humans or at a human scale – it's built for cars. It depersonalizes our cities and the individuals operating the machines (yes, cars are heavy machinery). Operating a car distorts our psychology to the point that we see other cars on the road as objects, not as a machine with another human being inside. It insulates the operator from the surrounding world. Anyone who has ever driven a car knows this to be the case.

When things are built at a human scale, though, this connection to other humans is not lost. On a bicycle, you are exposed to the world around you as well as to other humans. While technically qualifying as a machine, a bicycle allows the humanity of the rider to be preserved. We therefore behave as a human and treat others as humans. The scale is more manageable, the speed more reasonable. It's a shared struggle and a shared joy to see others walking or cycling, exposed to the elements just as you are. To return to the opening sentence of this post, this is what makes riding a bicycle fundamental to modern humanity: it preserves our connection to the world around us that we otherwise ignore in our technologically saturated day-to-day lives. It provides us with genuine experience; it gives us joy. 

It's to the joy of riding a bicycle that I will turn to in my next post.

A Cherished Moment at Sunset

 

Basílica de San Francisco El Grande, Madrid, Spain

I find myself in a time of reflection. It's been approximately 2.5 years since I visited Spain with my girlfriend, and nearly 2.5 years since the world recognized the onset of the Covid-19 pandemic. It was February of 2020, and though there was news of the virus spreading in East Asia, there were no more than a handful of cases in Europe at the time, and global sentiment was that the virus would still be contained before it could become a major outbreak. We had booked the trip months in advance, and countries wouldn't begin to close their doors for another six weeks. What a long 2.5 years it's been since then. 

The trip, though, was incredible. We experienced the beautiful evening light streaming through the stained glass of La Sagrada Família; cooked paella as part of a class in Barcelona; wandered the Gothic Quarter; visited bars both inspired by and – in some cases – frequented by Hemingway; hiked Mount Tibidabo; enjoyed a wonderfully intimate dinner at a restaurant called Blavís; experienced the wonder that is the Spanish AVE high-speed train; visited the parks and museums of Madrid; enjoyed drinks at Spanish jazz bars; ate nearly our fill of tapas; toured the Spanish Placio Real (Royal Palace); and rented an attic apartment in central Madrid that nearly convinced us to drop our lives back home and become expats living in Spain.

And yet, dredged up from among all these grand experiences, I am reminded of a simple, tender moment. We were wandering Madrid after a full day and came across the Basílica de San Francisco El Grande. The 18th century basilica was beautiful from the exterior, especially in the evening light, if a little rundown. Graffiti marked the planter boxes, the dome showed signs of rust, and the façade cried out for a fresh coat of paint. Nevertheless, the basilica was situated on a high hill overlooking west parts of Madrid, and offered a wonderful vista to watch the sun set. 

As we sat enjoying the moment, a young woman wandered up to a bench nearby and checked her phone. Several minutes later, she was joined by a young man in a striped, hooded sweatshirt. They sat and talked for awhile, just as we did, separated from us by only a planter box or two. While they were in conversation, I took a moment to snap a quick photo of the basilica – lit as it was by the golden hour light – and incidentally caught them in the frame, as well. 

In hindsight, it's one of my favorite photos that I've taken. It's a study in contrasts: the decaying appearance of the basilica and dormant trees of February set against their budding relationship – and my own with my girlfriend, behind the camera. It's a moment I cherish and a photo I cherish, both embedded in my memory and set against the backdrop of a pretty wonderful Spanish vacation before the world completely changed.

The Joy of Puzzles

Western culture is geared toward solving problems or providing pleasure, not pondering questions or experiencing wonder. We have a natural tendency toward optimizing productivity and output. Recently, I rediscovered the wonder and joy of doing puzzles, which I shall refer to as "puzzling." 

I used to do a puzzle about once a year, typically with my mom over Christmas break. This past year, we – along with my girlfriend – ramped it up and did four or five puzzles. Part of it was driven by a near-term and new-found obsession with puzzles. But part of it was driven by the mindset created while doing puzzles.

Puzzling offers a simple and straightforward path into flow, that now near-ubiquitous term made famous by Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi. There is next to no worry or anxiety created by puzzling, while selection of a properly difficult puzzle will keep you above the threshold of falling into boredom or simply feeling relaxed. There is something titillating about seeking out that oddly-shaped or uniquely-colored piece, and a sense of satisfaction at locating it. As simple as it may seem, puzzling offers a sense of accomplishment.

At the same time, puzzling is fairly passive in what it requires from you mentally. In a sense, I would equate it to walking, where the simple act of moving at a pace made familiar through countless millennia of  human evolution can prime neural pathways for pondering ideas. If walking allows us to follow the rhythms of our bodies, then puzzling allows us to follow the rhythms of our minds. Puzzling (or similarly, doodling, coloring, art, generally, or walking) lets us move and think at our own pace, a pace conducive to pondering thoughts and ideas in a manner that is often lacking in our modern world. What each of these activities shares in common is that they all force us to slow down. We intentionally create space and time for depth. Often, this depth can be explored alongside another person, as well.

Even though we adore the trope of the singularly genius creator or self-made man, it should be obvious that no one creates in a vacuum. We are constantly subject to outside influences, both positive and negative. Puzzling, as with walking, allows your mind the space to take stock of those influences and begin to put the disparate pieces together. Now this is not to disparage the idea of self-reliance (particularly the notion of it written about by Emerson), but merely an acknowledgement and appreciation of the influence of environment and, frankly, all of humankind. 

The benefits of walking to stimulate thoughts are well established, but it turns out that walking in nature is even more beneficial for the brain, as it results in lower levels of brooding – that is, ruminating on negative thoughts, as we so often are prone to do while sitting in traffic, for instance. Working on puzzles, it turns out, has a similar effect, as puzzling promotes mindfulness, creativity, and even spatial reasoning. In much the same way that active navigation promotes improved spatial memory, the act of remembering a shape or color and then locating the piece to fit it also benefits short-term memory and awareness.

Beyond the health benefits of puzzling, I just enjoy the freedom to let my mind wander, while still feeling as though I am focused on a task. Time spent doing a puzzle also offers time to listen to an audiobook or podcast, while having sufficient bandwidth to accomplish both. 

Furthermore, puzzling offers a respite during the long, cold winter months when it can be difficult to get outside and walk or into nature. Instead, we can sit down to a puzzle of a forest or a beach and temporarily get lost in the scenes materializing before our eyes. Whether or not such a scene depicted in a puzzle has the same effects as actually being in nature is secondary; we can still immerse ourselves in the often bucolic images and feel the stresses of life melt away.

Review: The 7 Habits of Highly Effective People

https://unsplash.com/photos/KZiTNgJ5WL8

Overview

I usually don't take the time to write reviews for books that I didn't enjoy reading. However, there were many points in reading The 7 Habits of Highly Effective People by Stephen Covey when I found myself reaching for my phone to type out some notes in frustration. Don't get me wrong, there are certainly sound principles to be found in the book; I just think that the applications presented not only fall flat, but are just plain unrealistic and unhelpful. 

Maybe I wasn't the target audience. Maybe the book would have hit home more if I had read it through the hungry eyes of a 22 year old rather than when I was nearing 30. If I had to give a one sentence summary of the book, I would sum it up that it is preferable to act rather than be acted upon. Covey repeatedly refers to acting according to "correct principles," which is in line with the life philosophy of anyone attempting to live a life of virtue, though we may quibble over precisely what constitutes said principles. 

As I said, the advice is sound, it just doesn't necessarily hold up to the scrutiny of life being lived in real time, as I will explore in more detail below. Further, the book is a little too formulaic in a way that is incompatible with the uncertainties faced daily in the modern world. The book seems to speak to how to be a highly effective automaton more so than a highly effective person.

The 7 Habits

Before we do a deep dive, let's list the 7 Habits outlined in the book so we establish a frame of reference for the review that follows.

• The first three fall under the umbrella of "dependence" and "private victories"

1. Be proactive
2. Begin with the end in mind
3. Put first things first

• The next three fall under the umbrella of "independence" and "public victories"

4. Think win/win
5. Seek first to understand, then to be understood
6. Synergize

• The final habit falls under the umbrella of moving toward "interdependence"

7. Sharpen the saw

Mission Statements & Structure

As is often the case with self-help literature, Covey is a big believer in writing mission statements. Mission statements can be a powerful thing when adhered to, but they also need to allow for flexibility when life inevitably does not go to plan, which the 7 Habits does not adequately acknowledge. Books of this sort that focus almost exclusively on the responsibility of the individual can be detrimental in this sense, because if something isn't working in your life, the conclusion invariably is that you simply must not be following the paradigm well enough. Failures become your own fault, rather than the fault of the suggested operational paradigm or simply a bad break. It is important to take personal responsibility for your life and your actions, but we must also remember that life sometimes happens on its own terms.

The book accepts as a given that our current structure, particularly that of business, is the correct and best way for the world to be. There is no discussion of there being a fundamentally better system, because that's beyond the "circle of influence" and rather in the "circle of concern," and therefore not worth bothering over. I realize that some of this may be me viewing a 1989 book through a 2022 lens, but it nevertheless feels like a valid critique. In our modern lens, climate change is largely outside our "circle of influence," but that doesn't mean that it shouldn't be in our focus. People these days are beaten down by things that technically fall outside their "circle of influence," but nonetheless affect their everyday lives in profound ways.

And despite the step-by-step approach, I didn't feel that effectiveness was ever effectively defined. In Covey's descriptions, effectiveness comes to look a lot like productivity, particularly with regards to work. There is little real emotional discussion, and the stilted family relationship examples provided fall flat. 

Win/Win Scenarios

When discussing win/win scenarios, Covey provides an example of working out a deal with his young son to care for the lawn. It's a win for Covey in that he can count on his son to do the yard work, and it's a "win" for his son because he then has the freedom to determine his own time throughout the summer, so long as the yard is cared for. I understand teaching responsibility, but the whole description in the book reeks of condescension, of co-opting his son into household chores without really having a say in it. You get the feeling that his son won't be given the option of choosing "no deal," even if he doesn't find the win/win scenario to be to his liking. 

Covey provides another example wherein a father he knows wants his son to attend a "prestigious" school, but the son is against the idea. Covey counsels the man to show his son "unconditional love" and allow his son to make his own choice. Eventually, of course, the son comes around and decides he wants to go to the "prestigious" school. It just reads a little too conveniently, as though it was always going to end up that way. Sometimes, an example where something doesn't turn out as expected can be much more illustrative than endless "wins."

The win/win examples provided not only fall flat, but are also very idealistic. For instance, I wonder whether Covey could configure a win/win situation where a renter feels like they also "won" when their rent is raised and they have no recourse to negotiate. It's a matter of either accepting it or getting out; there is no "no deal" option. It can also be difficult to be willing to take a no deal when a win/win isn't possible when you're attempting to exit a bad situation. For example, if you're leaving a bad job (which maybe isn't a "lose" situation, but perhaps didn't turn out to be as advertised), and you're left looking for the best available option, even if it's not strictly a "win/win." 

In this sense, the book contains a lot of privilege that is never addressed. There is no discussion of having to hold a job purely in order to make money or attempt to get through until something better presents itself. The advice is written from an assured position, where the ability to meet basic needs is taken for granted. In the chapter on the quadrant time management approach, no discussion is given to employees in roles where they do not have control over their time or ability to set their own priorities. Covey describes the differences of scarcity and abundance mentalities, and how abundance mentalities promote more win/win scenarios, without ever examining what might lead an individual to hold one or the other mentality in the first place. 

Condescension & Clichés

In another instance, Covey describes presenting at a leadership seminar and being approached by a listener during a break. The man in question lays bare that his wife doesn't trust him when he's away at seminars, because that was precisely how the two of them had met when the man had been previously married. The man describes how no amount of promises or discussion seems to assuage her concerns. Covey allegedly responds, "My friend, you can't talk your way out of problems you behave yourself into." My first reaction is that there is no way he actually said this. It reads high-brow, if condescending, but no one talks like this. It doesn't so much illustrate a point but rather makes him seem insufferable. 

With regards to Habit 6, Covey writes how, "When properly understood, synergy is the highest activity in all life." Excuse me, what? As with the seminar statement above, this doesn't provide any actionable advice to the reader. It reads fancily enough without actually saying anything useful. 

And with respect to usefulness, I have to say that the utility of advice is partially contingent on the authority of the source. While Covey was a widely respected leader in the business world, that alone is not enough. Covey doesn't cite any sources or studies to back up any claims made in the book. This becomes particularly glaring when he makes a weird segue into exercise advice in the chapter on "sharpening the saw." When making claims, or even offering suggestions, it's useful and even necessary to cite other sources rather than just relying on personal experience and anecdotes.

Positives

A few positives I took from the book were its focus on having an internal locus of self-control. Further, Covey makes a distinction between focusing on effectiveness when dealing with people, and efficiency when dealing with things or tasks. This is an important distinction, as we can't and shouldn't manage relationships as though they were tasks. Relationships may not have a clearly defined target or end as with a task, and we would do our friends and family a disservice to treat them as such. 

Additionally, near the end of the book Covey notes that we should value differences. Differences of thought, of opinion, of lifestyles all enhance our experience and provide us with a chance to learn from one another. Covey also cautions against dichotomous either/or thinking, a notion that Richard Rohr has written extensively about. When we end dichotomous thinking, we open ourselves up to a vast array of new perspectives. 

Conclusion

I didn't like this book nearly as well as I had hoped. For a book that has sold something like 25 million copies worldwide, I expected something more impactful as well as more concise. As is the case with so many business and self-help books, this book likely would have been better off as a long article or modern day blog post. 

The book also comes off as unaware and tone deaf at times. Covey finishes the book by sharing a personal story that, he writes, "contains the essence of this book." In it, he takes a one year sabbatical to Oahu to write and he and his wife have the freedom to talk for two hours a day at a secluded beach. Covey writes glowingly of the "synergistic" communication that developed between them. 

If the essence of the book is somehow contained in that anecdote, I'm not sure the book has many useful lessons to teach a mainstream audience. The book isn't self-aware enough for our modern age, nor does it allow enough room for human variability and fallibility. We aren't always operating at our best, and sometimes we need a chance to recover. Sometimes we don't need a new practice or seven habits to integrate into our lives, we simply need the chance to re-center ourselves in the quiet moments of life.

The Writer's Mind

https://unsplash.com/photos/0gkw_9fy0eQ

I struggled at first to come up with an image to accompany this poem. What sort of image is best to encompass dreams, imagination, thought? Initially, I browsed images of space and mountains and oceans, before I realized that that was the wrong direction. Imagination doesn't have to encompass grandeur, it simply has to be representative of the act of creation. With that in mind, I settled on a simple typewriter, and the romantic vision all writers harbor at one time or another of themselves sitting down to its formidable keys.

What appears on the white blank page is a pure act of creation. Now we can argue about influences and style and sources of inspiration, but the bottom line is that the page begins empty and ends filled. There is no shortcut around that, though it's rarely a linear process. Iterations have occurred through the ages via crossed out words, erased phrases, whited out punctuation marks, and, finally, the backspace key. Nonetheless, something is written. 

In this case, the something that was written was a poem I penned back in 2016. I was reading Walden at the time, and it is clear that I had Thoreau and transcendentalism on my mind. One may even say he was a source of inspiration for this poem, though the words flowed through my pen. I write poetry only occasionally, and rarely do I do so in a structured manner. However, I wrote this poem as a Sonnet, which if you don't recall from tenth grade English, has 10 syllables per line and is written in iambic pentameter with an A-B-A-B, C-D-C-D, E-F-E-F rhyme style for the first three verses, followed by a G-G finish. In traditional spiritual fashion, imposing a little bit of structure seemed to bring out words that I would not have otherwise expected. 

→The Writer's Mind

A bit of a walking contradiction; 

He aimed to be so grounded, but instead

Filled his head with fantasies and fiction,

Dreaming bigger with each book that he read.

Witty and charming, though shy to a fault,

He craved the wilderness and solitude;

Which once attained, his mind ran without halt,

Longing for company he had eschewed.

He did not seek those familiar to him,

No, he sought those known only by his mind,

As if in a story of his own whim

Free to envision life as he inclined.

Still it left him adrift, wanting for more,

So again to his thoughts, worlds to explore.