The Purple Bicycle

When I was in elementary school, the sport of mountain biking was just starting to gain mainstream traction, and given that I lived in Utah, you can only imagine what that would have been like for my peers and me. It was exciting.

I remember one store in my local shopping mall, called "Pedersen's Ski & Sports." (I Googled it just now, and it appears that the store still exists, although it has relocated from Provo to Layton, Utah.) Throughout the winter, the store was full of skis and ski boots, but during the warmer months, it was stocked bottom to top with bicycles. Bicycles of every color, shape, size, and price-point! It was not a fun "sporting goods store" to go into when I was into basketball, tennis, and soccer; but when I gained an interest in riding a new bicycle, Pedersen's was a dream world.

I had outgrown my old BMX bike and I wanted something really cool - a nice mountain bike with eighteen gears (more gears is better, right?) shock absorbers (new-fangled devices that I was amazed to find on a bicycle), hand-brakes, and everything else that a little kid might get excited about. One day, my family was at the mall, and I wandered into Pedersen's to look at the bicycles. My eyes gravitated to one that was a metallic grey in color that sort of color-faded into a deep, dark purple. I have no recollection of how good the actual bicycle was, but the color was mesmerizing. I was completely captivated by it.

For weeks and months, I would go with my parents to the mall on any conceivable pretense, just so that I could get another look at this bike. I would dream about it. I would ride around on my Walmart BMX, pretending that I was riding on this fantastic purple bike instead. I would sit and daydream about it. 

I was totally obsessed. It was a good obsession, though. It gave me something to dream about. It gave me something to hope for: maybe when my birthday or Christmas came, I would discover that my parents gave me an amazing purple bicycle. 

In hindsight, it doesn't matter to me at all that my parents ended up buying me a different bicycle. I was a little disappointed at the time, but what I ended up with was still a really fun, white bicycle that I faithfully rode for years and really loved. I got what I needed; the story has a happy ending.

However, this morning I was thinking about that purple bicycle in the context of dreaming about it. My white bicycle ended up being my next, beloved bicycle, but that purple bicycle was my dream. Every child deserves to dream about something. And what I realized was that I never would have had that dream in the first place, had I not grown up at a time and in a place where shopping malls existed and products could be displayed and demoed to random children window shopping as their parents ran errands.

Today, I shop almost entirely online. I don't step into a store if I can help it, because going into a store is an annoying waste of time for me. Besides, I can usually find a better price online, anyway. So, my life is much better now that I can avoid malls and stick to online retailers. 

I wonder how my kids feel about it, though. They don't have a frame of reference for going to malls and checking out what new toys exist, so they don't really know what they're missing out on. But I know that they're not getting as much exposure to the array of available toys and bicycles and items of interest as I did when I was their age. 

An ascetic might argue that they are able to content themselves with the simpler things they can easily access: drawing pads, educational lessons, Amazon Echo games, and so forth. But how much more fun might they be having if they had access to a dream? Again, the fondness I have for the memory of that purple bicycle wasn't that I actually got to own it and ride it every day. No, the fondness I have for that memory is that it was a really beautiful, simple dream for a young boy. I wanted a cool bike, and that was the coolest bike I had ever seen. And I allowed myself to dream about it every day.

What do my kids dream about if they don't pass by bicycle stores with purple bikes on display? That's for me to find out. And to nurture.

A Novelty Problem

There are many reasons why guitars are more popular than pianos. One is that, unless you happen to own a temperature controlled airport hanger, it is impossible to collect pianos. Not so for guitars. You could fit two dozen guitars into a standard-sized coat closet. There are also many different kinds of guitars, each one with its own unique sound, which justifies the purchase of another guitar. "I don't have that kind of guitar, and I need it to make that kind of sound!" They're also priced low enough that one can buy several guitars for the same amount of money as a piano. And then there's all the peripheral stuff that goes with the guitar: the straps, the strings, the pedals, the plectrums, each one with its own claim to improving your tone.

We see a similar thing in bicycles. It's not enough to buy and ride a bicycle. One also has to get the right kind of helmet, riding gear, water bottles, safety lights, fitness trackers, shoes, and so on. If a person decides to make the leap into bicycling, he'll eventually find himself investing in the sport as much as riding his bicycle, just as a guitar player will find himself investing in music gear as much as playing his actual guitar.

Golf, too, is similar. Once you've made the initial investment, there is always something more; a new driver, a better pair of shoes, a ball retriever... anything that will enhance the golf experience. Otherwise, it's just a bunch of club-swinging.

There are many such hobbies and sports. I've chosen to single-out male-oriented hobbies, but I could have mentioned their female equivalents, too. Do you really think women need to buy seventeen different kinds of skin cream, or five colors of eyeliner, or a different jacket for every type of cold weather, or five differently scented candles or soaps that can't be used together without causing some sort of olfactory overload? And, of course, the coed hobbies are the worst of all, since all dollars from sexes and genders can be exploited equally.

Marketeers are quite clever, and armed to the teeth with tools to extract more of your spending money. To be sure, in many cases, there are good reasons to spend more money on your hobby. One very simple reason is that it's fun to own a new guitar, bike, golf club, hair conditioner, or yoga mat. It's fun to complete your collection, to curate a perfect room full of enticing gear, sure to motivate you to do more of what you originally started out doing, anyway.

But if we're being honest, most of us should admit that we over-spend on our hobbies. A few of us will even admit that it would be better to spend less money. So, how do we resist the urge to spend money on fancy new stuff that will surely make us happy -- especially if we're spending within our means?

Here's one solution: Make part of the experience of your hobby the source of novelty, rather than the gear used to engage your hobby. Instead of buying a new guitar, learn something new on one of your guitars. Instead of buying a new bike, go on a new kind of bike ride. Instead of buying a new driver, go to the driving range and perfect your swing with your existing driver.

When we make incremental progress a source of novelty within our hobbies then we are less inclined to buy new things. The trick here is that the increment has to be a meaningful one. You can't simply learn a new song and expect that to replace your desire for a new guitar. Instead, you have to learn something that feels awesome and makes you want to do more of it. You have to learn a new technique, or play a lick you already know at a record speed. You have to impress yourself so much that you don't think a new guitar is as impressive as what you've just done. It's a little more work, but it's ultimately much more rewarding.

This is one of the reasons that children are such a joy. They can learn new things from existing, on-hand stuff and be entertained for hours; meanwhile, the same stuff would typically hold little appeal to us adults. This past weekend, I taught my daughter how to play a new card game. She doesn't usually play with cards, so the opportunity to play a game with dad, using a somewhat novel toy, was irresistible to her. I asked my wife if she wanted to play, and she emphatically said, "No, thanks." Truth be told, if it were only my wife and I, neither one of us would have chosen to play cards together. Those cards had been collecting dust in a closet for a long time. But then again, no one has offered to teach either of us a new card game.

So, my daughter didn't need to watch a new cartoon or a new movie, and she didn't need to buy a new toy. She just needed to expand her ability to play with our existing toys, namely, a deck of cards. It works the same around dinner time, too. She could sit and bore herself to death with cartoons or coloring pictures, or I could have her help me bake biscuits, or cookies, or peel carrots, or measure ingredients to put in the bowl. Things that I find to be relatively mundane, because I do them so often, are new and fun for my daughter. Not surprisingly, I recently found myself in a bookstore, perusing the cooking aisles for a source of new recipes -- something to make my mundane daily task of cooking everyone dinner more interesting. It took me fifteen minutes to realize that I didn't need to buy a new cookbook. I just needed to use the tablet I already own to look up some new recipes!

Again, to avoid seeking novelty in new stuff, seek incremental novelty in stuff you already have. Learning how to make falafel is a nice tool to have in the kit; it's enough to make a person excited to cook again. Learning a new guitar technique, or a better way of chipping onto the green, or a new card game, can all help you find the novelty you're seeking. We seek that novelty when we shop, but we don't need to. We simply need to avail ourselves of the novelty available in our life as it is now.

This relates to another concept I may or may not have mentioned on the blog: depth versus breadth of experience. Finding novelty in a new guitar makes your guitar-playing experience broader. But finding novelty in a new playing technique will make your experience deeper. I, for one, find that to be a positive move.

Happiness Is So Much Easier Than People Realize

This morning, as I boarded the elevator up to my office, a spotted another man headed over to the elevator car. I held the door for him and we both got in.

Spotting the large, black object I was carrying under my arm, the man asked me, "What is that thing?"

"It's a battery for an electric bike," I told him with a smile.

He interestedly perked up. "Oh yeah? That's cool."

"I carry it in with me, since these things are kind of expensive," I said. Then, realizing that we still had lots of time before our elevator stopped, and not wanting to be rude, I continued on, "It's a great way to zoom into work without getting sweaty."

"Oh, yeah! I bet!" he said. Then he asked me, "Do you live downtown?" I told him that I didn't, and then I described the neighborhood in which I live. His eyes went wide. "You mean up there, up the freeway?!" I smiled and nodded, and he started chuckling to himself. He said was impressed, and he thought it was really neat that I biked to work from there. Then, our elevator stopped at my floor, I wished him a good day, and off I went.

This is not an uncommon conversation for me to have. Sometimes it's the bicycle battery that initiates the conversation, sometimes it's my bike helmet, sometimes it's the fact that somebody saw me ride in. Whatever instigates things, these conversations never cease to impress me because of how fond people feel toward my bike commute; and the fact that I commute on an electric bicycle only seems to sweeten the deal.

I don't think they're impressed at the physicality of it. After all, riding an electric bicycle is not particularly physically exerting. The sense I have of what they tell me is that they just think it's cool to ride a bike to work, and that it's cool to ride an electric bicycle. They think it seems like a fun thing to do, and they appear to wish they could do it themselves. Their reaction toward me is a lot like the reaction you'd get from someone if you told them you just rode a really cool rollercoaster or something. It's appreciative excitement.

Needless to say, I happen to agree: I think biking to work is fun, and cool, and exciting, and I feel fortunate that I can do it. It brings a smile to my face; it's so much more fun than driving. It's a big increase in my quality of life.

Imagine how much fun the man I met in the elevator this morning could be having if he, too, owned an electric bicycle and used it to commute to work. It would no longer be an impressive thing to talk to me about; it would be something that other people would talk to him about. He could be the one feeling the wind on his face as he zips through the side-streets, the back routes, and the bike paths. He could be the one telling his colleagues how much fun it is to ride a beautiful machine like that to work every day. He could be the one saving gas money and wear and tear. He could be the one showing up to work with a big smile on his face.

All he has to do is buy a bike.

*        *        *

Memorial Day weekend was surprisingly great for me, too.

Saturday morning, we had to renew my daughter's passport in person at the passport office. That would typically be a real drag, and it was still pretty frustrating by the end of it. But we managed to spend some good, quality family time together. My daughter and I walked to the coffee shop and ordered coffee together. The passport office is located inside of the old Post Office, a large and historic building, built in 1933, right next to the train station. It's the kind of old building that has large stone columns, gargoyles, marble floors, and so on. It's truly a site to behold, and even gets pretty good ratings on Trip Advisor. If you have to be stuck in some government office somewhere, doing something annoying, I suppose a beautiful specimen of historic 20th Century architecture is the best place to do it. In the afternoon, we did typical weekend things: running, playing together, having dinner outside, watching a movie, and so on.

Sunday, we went to the pool. I had suggested it on Saturday, and my daughter was so excited about it that it was the first thing she asked to do when she woke up. The water was a little cold, because the sun was behind the clouds for most of the morning, but we nonetheless had a great time. In the afternoon, we split up; I went for a long run, while everyone else went to a backyard pool party/barbecue.

Then, on Monday, we joined our extended family at the lake for another barbecue. I went for a little trail run. We chatted and ate and had a great hang with our family and friends, then we came home, did the grocery shopping, and had another great evening of playing together, having a nice Sunday dinner together, and watching another movie.

That old post office is visible from one of the major freeways in the city, which means that hundreds of thousands of people drive past it every single day without stopping and snapping a few photos. There are coffee shops all over the place, but I seldom see fathers and daughters walking there hand-in-hand to spend some time together. My neighborhood has two different community swimming pools, with accompanying grills and tables and chaise lounge chairs, and mostly it's just a handful of families who use them. The lake we went to was enormous, with hundreds of picnic tables and charcoal grills, and although it was crowded, there were still plenty of tables to spare.

But the thing is, getting out in the sunshine and the trees, enjoying the scenic places, laughing and running around outside as a family, and making use of public amenities is so incredibly rewarding. And it's so simple. And practically free. Consider all the people who stayed indoors this weekend, or who mostly watched TV and went shopping, or all the people who wished they could have done more with their time. The fun my family and I had was simple, low-cost, easily obtained fun. It's not hard to come by, it's put right there for the taking. The really remarkable thing is how few people avail themselves of the opportunities.

*        *        *

By chance, I happened to have a conversation with a young friend of mine recently. She's been given an important opportunity to receive a lucrative scholarship and to earn an advanced degree. It's the kind of opportunity you get if you're a good, hard-working student who has a good relationship with your professors and who happens to be in the right place at the right time. Good for her!

This opportunity, however, is in another city, a few hours away. When I was speaking to her about her opportunity, that was the first thing she mentioned, that unfortunately it was in that city. But it's a good opportunity, and I wanted her to know that I was happy for her and that I wanted to encourage her, so I said, "That's a really cool city!" Yes, she said, she agreed, but she didn't have many friends there. "Oh, that's okay," I said, "sometimes it's good to strike out on your own in a new place like that!"  She reassured me that she wanted to take advantage of the opportunity, but she was "just saying" that she didn't want to move away from her friends.

I understand, of course. However, when someone tells me their good news, I am not in the habit of focusing on the negative side of it. So most of what I was saying was positive because I wanted to be happy with her about her great opportunity. I was surprised by the fact that most of what she seemed to want to talk about was the unpleasant fact that she'd have to move to a new city where she didn't have many friends. I agree that this can be unpleasant, but so long as I'm sharing good news with people, I prefer to focus on the positive.

Imagine how much happier she'd feel if she focused on the positive, rather than the prospect of being lonely.

*        *        *

Some people will react to all of this by thinking to themselves, "I'm glad you like your bike, Ryan, and your park, and your neighborhood pool, and your positive attitude. But that's not what everyone wants to do." I agree with this… to a point.

If you don't like riding a bike or going to a pool, that's not a big deal. But the more simple things you "just don't like to do," the more skeptical I am of your claim that you're doing the things that make you happy. If getting outside and doing stuff just doesn't do it for you, then you seriously ought to reconsider what it is that makes you happy, and if, indeed, you are happy at all.

The reason I say this is because I know so many people who waste their time doing things that honestly don't make them happy. I know lots of guys, for example, whose idea of a perfect weekend involves sitting in front of a television and drinking beer all day. One day like that every once in a while might be fun, but the truth is that drinking a lot of beer and sitting around all day - especially if you do it frequently - makes a person feel physically unpleasant, and there's only so much of that physical discomfort a person can feel before it affects their mental comfort as well. Similarly, a person might prefer to binge-watch the latest TV series or surf the internet all day, or play video games all day. A person might choose from any array of passive, mentally disengaging, indoor activities and/or high-calorie food and drink, and alcohol. On their own, there's nothing wrong with these activities. But when they become the majority of what you do with yourself in your free time, that's going to start wearing you down.

In the long term, though, these things don't nourish the soul. They're fine to do from time to time, but they shouldn't be most of what you do with your life. And I'm not saying that in a moral sense, I'm simply pointing out that getting outside and doing interesting things - whatever you like to do, as long as it is outside and interesting - will make you feel better than you do right now, no matter how good you already feel. Communion with nature is scientifically proven to improve mental health. We already know that outdoor activity is good for physical health. What a lot of people fail to realize is that it's also incredibly fun. And fun is a good thing for people to have. Fun makes us happy.

People are not particularly good at pursuing things that make them happy. People will play the what do you want to eat / I don't know what do you want to eat / I don't know what do you want to eat game until it crushes their very soul. And they'll do it night after night without realizing that the simple solution is to grab a rotisserie chicken and a veggie platter from the grocery store on the way to the park and have a picnic. It's simple. If nobody cares what they want to eat, then go do that! Come home an hour later with some fresh air in your lungs and a smile on your face.

Happiness is not a difficult thing to obtain. The little things you do in your free time show you how easy and low-cost it is to really enjoy yourself. They should also give you a little insight into what kinds of experiences you're leaving on the table. Get a bike, put on some running shoes, go for a picnic, go find a park or a community swimming pool. These are the things that will make you happy.

I Take The Stairs

When I arrive at work every day, I park on an upper level of the parking garage and I take the stairs down to the door of my office building. I think walk to the stairwell and take the staircase up several stories to my employer’s office and sit at my desk. My employer occupies multiple floors of the same building, and when I need to talk to someone on another floor, I use the stairs to get there. When I’m finished, I walk back to my desk the same way I came. At lunch, I walk down the stairs to the garage entrance, then up the stairs and back to my car, which I drive to the gym. This process repeats itself as I return to work in the afternoon and through to the end of the work day.

I take the stairs. I could use the elevator, but I don’t.

When people see me walking to the stairwell, they ask if I’m going to take the stairs. I smile and say yes. They take the elevator. We part ways and meet up on the other floor. We tend to arrive at about the same time.

People often extend kudos to me for taking the stairs. “Good job, Ryan!” “Do you take the stairs when you get in to work every morning? You do? That’s awesome!” “It’s great that you take the stairs every day, Ryan.”

Sometimes, people even say, “I should take the stairs!” But they seldom do, and when they do, it’s only to join me just that one time. Others don’t make a habit of taking the stairs, even when they seem to express a willingness and desire to do so. As they walk up the stairs, they lean heavily on the hand rail or press down hard on their thighs with each step. After walking up a flight or two of stairs, they pant for air and say, “Woo!” in a tired declaration of their efforts.

I am not a special person for taking the stairs. I hardly think about it anymore. Granted, when I started taking the stairs every day, it was a bit harder than it is now. My leg muscles burned a bit and I, too, would breathe heavily when finished. But that didn’t last long. After a while, it was just a force of habit. Walking up and down several flights of stairs is no more taxing to me than walking anywhere else. It's just a staircase to me. I don’t use the staircase to be special or because it’s a physical challenge or because I am Hercules.

Why did I choose to make taking the stairs a habit? Well, the added daily steps seem to work well for my blood sugar, but that effect has long since passed now that taking the stairs is just a several-times-daily occurrence for me. I’m not a particularly environmentally conscious person, but if using the stairs costs me little time or effort, I don’t necessarily understand why I should use a big energy-consuming machine. And not needing to rely on that machine appeals to my sense of asceticism.

But it’s no big deal, anyway. It’s just the stairs. I don’t understand why more people don’t take the stairs. I don’t understand why more people don’t take a walk. I don’t understand why more people don’t ride their bikes places instead of taking cars.

I take the stairs. You might want to try it, too. But if not, no biggie. It’s just the stairs.