Each December as the year comes to a close, I find myself reflecting not just on where I’ve been during the past twelve months, but more importantly, on where I want to go during the next twelve. The past few years have brought unprecedented changes to how we live, work, and connect. I’ll be honest, I struggled this past year through a lot of it. I know I’m not alone in this admission.

Through it all, one truth has become increasingly clear to me: the quality of our lives isn’t measured in grand gestures or accomplishments, but in the small, intentional choices we make each day.

For 2025, I’m approaching my intentions with this notion in mind. Instead of a scattered list of resolutions, I’m focusing on a single theme: Living Well. This isn’t about perfection or hitting arbitrary numbers (though I’ve included some specific targets to keep myself honest). It’s about building a framework that feels both purposeful and sustainable.

My framework breaks down into four key areas, each with specific, measurable objectives that support the broader goal of living well:

Get Stronger

First, I’m focusing on getting stronger—both physically and mentally. On the physical side, I’ve set a few concrete goals:

• achieving 100 good-form pushups in one rep
• doing 25 proper pull-ups in one rep
• advancing my bouldering ability from V2 to V4/V5
• bikepacking the GAP & C&O trails from Pittsburgh to DC

These aren’t just about numbers; they’re about building a resilient body that can keep up with my adventures and ambitions.

Mental strength is equally crucial. After noticing how much time I spend mindlessly consuming content, I’m committing to two daily practices:

• dedicated time for reading actual books (not just snippets and headlines)
• actively catching myself when I fall into the doomscrolling trap

It’s about quality of attention rather than quantity of information.

Eat Low to the Ground

The second pillar focuses on nourishment—specifically, eating “low to the ground.” This means prioritizing whole foods and reducing processed ingredients. This isn’t about strict rules or elimination diets, but rather making conscious choices about what I put into my body. The goal is to make whole, minimally-processed foods the default rather than the exception.

Prioritize Quality

Quality is my third focus area, extending beyond just food choices. I’m being more intentional about the media I consume and the things I bring into my life. This means fewer impulse purchases, more thoughtful choices about what I read and watch, and a general shift toward “fewer, better things.” It’s about creating space for what truly matters by being selective about what gets my time and attention.

Actively Cultivate Relationships

Finally, and perhaps most importantly, I’m prioritizing relationships. The pandemic showed us all how easily connections can fray without active maintenance. I’m setting up regular check-ins with friends and family—not just through texts and social media, but through actual calls and in-person visits. These won’t be relegated to “when I have time” but will be treated as non-negotiable appointments with the people who matter most.

These objectives aren’t just items to check off a list; they’re guideposts for getting more intentional and aligned with my values. Some days I’ll hit all the marks, others I won’t—and that’s okay. The point isn’t perfection, but progression. And practice. Living well isn’t about dramatic transformations but about small, consistent choices that add up over time.

Thanks so much for reading and supporting this site in 2024. Your readership is important to me.

I thought 2024 was a fantastic year for recorded music. It seemed like every few weeks another absolute banger was released. As an avid listener, this year also saw my personal transition away from Spotify as a streaming source to a more intentional discovery and direct purchase model that I believe honors artists in a way streaming services don’t (or won’t).

In no particular order, here are the ten records released in 2024 I found to be my favorite:

Dulling the Horns by Wild Pink: I know I just said ’no particular order,’ but this just might be my record of the year. The songs and texture are just so layered. Simply complex, in a way that’s refreshing. The title track showcases this effortless density and is a standout on a stacked collection of songs.

No Arc by Rave Ami: My local selection this year comes from rockers Rave Ami. These guys are tight, fun and bring some unique energy to their live shows and recorded releases. I sorta feel like they’re a bit overshadowed by bigger Pittsburgh-based bands, but for my money this record rips hard.

Evergreen by Soccer Mommy: Sophie Allison describes her music as ‘chill, but kinda sad’ and I think that’s right. I’ve always felt the best songs were the saddest songs. Evergreen definitely brings the emotion, but not is a way that’s trite or placating. I find the songs on this release to be honest, raw and forthright in a way that’s comforting but also challenging.

Lighthouse by Francis of Delirium: A friend sent me this record earlier in the year and it’s been in constant rotation ever since. Lighthouse has a little bit of everything – in a good way. Luxemburg-based Jana Bahrich writes grungy pop songs that you find yourself singing to yourself during those random quiet moments of your day.

All Pleasure by THUS LOVE: No frills, four-on-the-floor rock and roll from Vermont-based THUS LOVE. The thing I love about this record is the swagger the band brings. It starts out of the gate with the opening ripper On the Floor and continues for the duration. I think swagger is a lost art these days and it’s great to see a group that’s out and proud bring it unapologetically and full-on.

Where we’ve been, Where we go from here by Friko: What a freaking epic release from Chicago duo Friko. These songs wander and traverse genres like there are simply no boundaries. Part singer-songwriter, part noise art, part chamber orchestra. On paper, the math doesn’t appear to work, but on tape it’s genius.

Cool World by Chat Pile: This is definitely the heaviest record on my list. Cool World is intense and guttural. The whole thing is raw and throbbing with some killer breakdowns that are sure to open up the circle pit at live shows.

Second Dinner by slimdan: Another one that has been in heavy rotation for most of the year. I am in love with slimdan’s pop-driven songs. They’re smart and catchy, and carry melodies that seem both familiar and fresh at the same time.

for frank forever by piglet: A late addition to the list, I randomly stumbled upon piglet - a solo project from Irish songwriter and producer Charlie Loane – just a few weeks ago. for frank forever carries really interesting production and infections melodies. I’m looking forward to seeing how piglet evolves into the future.

Valentin Prince by Valentin Prince: A fantastic LP from Richmond-based guitarist and songwriter. Sorta jammy and sorta trippy, but the song structure and performance are on point. This is a free digital download on Bandcamp, so don’t sleep on it!

The eggs must be room temperature. This isn’t negotiable—it’s the foundation everything else builds upon. I learned this the hard way, through countless mornings of broken, rubbery attempts that ended up more scrambled than folded. Cold eggs straight from the refrigerator never cooperate; they resist, they seize up, they refuse to flow.

Each morning now starts the same way: I take two eggs from the fridge and place them in a small bowl on the counter. While they slowly warm, I prep everything else: chopping the veggies, grating a small amount of cheese, setting out and warming my well-seasoned 8-inch pan.

This waiting period to temperature used to frustrate me. Now I understand it’s not just about temperature—it’s about preparation, about giving space for what comes next.

The whisking is gentle but deliberate. Two eggs (never more, never less), a pinch of salt, seven twists of the peppercorn grinder and exactly twelve whisks. Not enough to create foam—that leads to sponginess—but just enough to unite the whites and yolks into a seamless golden liquid. You can feel when it’s ready; the resistance changes, becomes smoother, more cohesive.

The pan must be hot, but not too hot. Medium-low heat, butter just starting to foam but not brown. This is the moment that demands the most attention, the most presence. Too cool and the eggs won’t set properly; too hot and they’ll toughen. You have to read the signs: the way the butter moves, the subtle change in its sound, the first whisper of fragrance.

When the eggs hit the pan, time simultaneously speeds up and slows down. You have maybe two minutes total, but within those minutes are dozens of small decisions. The initial swirl to coat the pan. The gentle lifting of the edges as the eggs set, allowing the liquid to flow underneath. The moment when you stop touching it altogether and just watch, wait, and feel.

The fold itself is both the simplest and most complex part. One smooth motion, confident but not aggressive. Too hesitant and it breaks; too forceful and it tears. The spatula slides underneath at precisely the right angle, and then it’s just physics and faith. The eggs know what to do if you let them.

I’ve made hundreds of omelettes over the past few years. Each one has taught me something, not just about cooking but about the nature of practice. About how mastery isn’t a destination but a series of small adjustments, tiny calibrations, moments of paying attention. About how the same ingredients, the same steps, the same motions can produce wildly different results depending on your state of mind.

Some mornings, everything aligns. The omelette slides onto the plate in one perfect golden crescent, barely containing the melted cheese within. Other mornings, despite following every step exactly the same way, something goes wrong. The fold isn’t quite right, or the cheese breaks through, or the edges are just a touch too brown.

These imperfect ones still taste good—sometimes even better than their more photogenic siblings. They remind me that perfection isn’t always the point. The point is showing up, paying attention, making small adjustments, and being present for whatever emerges from the pan.

Tomorrow morning, I’ll take two eggs from the fridge and place them in a small bowl on the counter. And while I wait for them to warm, I’ll think about what the day might bring, about all the small moments that add up to something larger, about the endless pursuit of that perfect fold.

Even though I’m curious about the potential for AI and exploring small language models (SLMs) at work, it’s stories like Noor Al-Sibai’s reporting for Futurism’s The Byte that give me pause and feed my internal conflict:

OpenAI is begging the British Parliament to allow it to use copyrighted works because it’s supposedly “impossible” for the company to train its artificial intelligence models — and continue growing its multi-billion-dollar business — without them.

To me, this is simple. OpenAI is correct. They can’t continue their growth trajectory without exploiting books, blogs, feeds, websites, images and other content that’s under copyright. This is a flaw in their business model. The machine is hungry and needs to be fed. Public domain content will satiate its hunger for only so long.

But copyright is copyright, and copyrighted works should only be consumed and distributed with the consent of the copyright holder. My advice for folx writing and publishing online? Update your robots.txt files to prohibit crawling from known AI origins. If you need an example, here’s mine.

I’m an techno-optimist. I think we can figure out how to responsibly and ethically leverage AI in our lives. Perhaps the key to doing this is to slow down, and scale down. Take a slow web approach to it. That’s why SLMs are so interesting to me, especially in my specific professional use cases. You can be thoughtful with the application and actively monitor the impact.

I’m interested in your thoughts. Do you think there is any hope for a measured and throttled AI future? Or is this 10x-mindset train already barreling down the tracks toward dystopia?

As a product manager on REI’s store technology team, I spend a lot of time thinking about how we can make life easier for our employees. Our team builds Ascent, an iOS application that helps more than 10,000 REI store employees access product information and accomplish tasks on sales floors across 180+ locations in the US. Our mission is simple but vital: provide store employees with the tools and information they need, in the moments they need them, so they can do their job with ease, confidence and joy.

Last week, during REI’s internal hackathon, my colleague Seth Daetwiler and I had the opportunity to explore how we might thoughtfully apply AI to support this mission. The result was CarsonAI, a friendly Raccoon process assistant named after environmentalist Rachel Carson (who, like Carson the bot, was also born here in Pittsburgh).

The Problem

Store employees face a common challenge: when they need to understand a process or find best practices, they have to step away from the task at hand, search through dense documentation scattered across various internal systems, hope they find the specific information they need (sometimes it can be one sentence in a 12-page PDF), and then return to their task. This constant context-switching isn’t just frustrating for our employees - it takes valuable time away from why they work at REI in the first place: serving customers, sharing their vast expertise and geeking out over gear.

Can AI Be Thoughtful, Responsible & Humane?

I’ll be honest - I have reservations about AI and I’m extremely conflicted. Like many, I’ve watched its rapid emergence with a mix of fascination and concern. But I’ve come to realize that rather than resist its inevitability, we should focus our energy on finding thoughtful, humane ways to apply this technology where it can create genuine benefits in people’s lives.

I think Carson represents this philosophy in action. Instead of using AI to replace human judgment or save a quick buck, we’re using it to remove pain points that employees have told us exist. The goal isn’t to automate tasks or increase throughput - it’s to give employees better, easier access to the knowledge they need to do their jobs well.

How It Works

Carson integrates directly into Ascent’s interface in two ways:

1. On the home screen for general process questions
2. As a contextual “Need Help” button within specific workflows

This means employees can verbally ask Carson questions about workflows and get immediate answers to process questions without leaving their current task. No more hunting through documentation or switching between systems - just quick, relevant guidance exactly when it’s needed.

Building During Hack Days

Working with Seth on Carson was a highlight of the hack days experience. His killer chops in iOS development and user experience design brought the concept to life in ways I hadn’t imagined. When I first floated the idea, his enthusiasm was immediate, and he ran with it, creating an elegant and intuitive interface that makes complex processes more accessible.

Looking Forward

While Carson began as a hackathon project, we’re excited about its potential. Obviously, we aren’t planning to immediately ship a project we threw together over a couple days to production. There are optimizations and tweaks we need to make before opening access to our fleet. Our next steps include:

• Testing the prototype with store employees to gather feedback and better understand their needs
• Making UX improvements based on feedback
• Benchmarking performance and load testing
• Exploring a beta release in Ascent during Q1 2025
• Learning more about how employees use Carson in real-world situations once it’s live

A Reflection

The retail environment is complex and constantly changing. Our store employees navigate this complexity daily while working hard to provide the best possible experience for our customers. I think tools like Carson represent an opportunity to use emerging technology in a way that genuinely supports our employees - not by replacing their expertise, but by making it easier for them to access and apply it.

At REI, we live and work by a set of values called The Co-Op Way. Three of these values are:

• We courageously embrace change
• We go further, together
• We start from a place of respect

I think Carson is in alignment with these principles. As we continue to explore the possibilities of AI in REI store operations, keeping these Co-Op Way values close will be crucial. The goal isn’t to chase technology for its own sake, but to thoughtfully apply it in ways that responsibly look forward, respect and foster human interactions, and make the work experience better for employees in our stores.

After two decades of religiously tracking every step, every mile, and every heartbeat, I’ve decided to take off my fitness tracker. My health metrics tracking journey began in the aughts with a Jawbone (remember those?), then evolved to a Fitbit, an early generation Apple Watch, and then most recently to a COROS Apex as I got more serious in my endurance pursuits. The journey has been enlightening, but perhaps not in the way these devices’ makers intended.

For nearly 20 years, I’ve been a dedicated member of the quantified self movement. Most mornings began with checking my sleep quality, each run or ride was meticulously recorded and posted to Strava, and most days ended with a review of my stats. The progression through devices—from the simple step counting of early Fitbits to the comprehensive health suite of the Apple Watch and the endurance-focused metrics of the COROS—reflected my growing appetite for more data, more insights, and more control.

But somewhere along the way, something changed.

I started noticing how the numbers were shaping my behavior, and not always for the better. A relaxed-pace run wasn’t just a chance to enjoy fresh air and sunshine—it was a disappointing pace stat. A rest day wasn’t a conscious choice for recovery—it was an unfortunate break in my activity streak. The quantified self had become my qualified self, where the value of my activities was determined by what my watch thought about them.

The irony wasn’t lost on me: tools that were supposed to help me become more in tune with my body had actually created a layer of digital abstraction between me and my physical experience. I was no longer running to feel good, riding for the freedom and wind in my face or climbing for enjoyment—I was doing these things to feed the algorithms.

This realization led me to question the role of tracking in my life. Was I measuring to help me improve or was I becoming digitally dependent on the metrics? The constant stream of data had overshadowed the simple joy of movement, the natural rhythm of rest and activity, and the intuitive understanding of my body’s needs.

The decision to stop tracking wasn’t easy. My COROS was a loyal companion. It was with me through countless miles, crazy adventures, my first ultra, and with each new bouldering grade. It witnessed my growth as a runner, cyclist and climber, and provided the data that fueled my progress. But sometimes, progress means letting go of the tools that got you here.

Now, when I head out for a run, it’s just me, my breath, and the trail ahead. There’s no GPS track being drawn, no pace alerts buzzing on my wrist, no stats to upload and analyze afterward. It feels both foreign and familiar—like running to a home you’d forgotten you had.

I don’t think this is a total rejection of tracking technology or the quantified self movement. These tools can be incredibly valuable, especially when working toward specific goals or managing health conditions. But perhaps their greatest value lies in teaching us to eventually listen to ourselves again.

As I adjust to this new, untracked existence, I’m rediscovering something that no algorithm could quantify: the simple pleasure of moving through the world, unchanged by sensors and unmediated by screens. It turns out that sometimes the best way to move forward is to leave the numbers behind.

I did a little housekeeping on the site over the weekend. Most prominent is a move to a new domain: inscho.org. This isn’t a new domain per se, but one that I’ve been holding in my back pocket for several years. It actually used to be my primary domain and online identity circa 2007. The internet I’m most interested in right now feels a lot like the internet of early aughts, so I thought it was fitting to resurrect the Static Made moniker.

The name comes from one of my favorite songs, A Dozen Roses by Braid. During the bridge, songwriter Bob Nanna unleashes a poignant assertion: static made old radio. I’ve always liked this notion – that the imperfect elements of a thing shape the thing and make it special.

Along with the new domain comes a new Fediverse account (@jeffrey@inscho.org) that will just host site syndication. This will free up my @jinscho@mountains.social account for personal interactions, banter and boosts. It makes it cleaner this way, in case someone wants to follow the site and not my Pittsburgh Steeler hot takes or bouldering sends.

Anyway, I’m sure there will be some kinks to iron out like feed updates and that sort of thing, but I’ll make sure to get to that stuff over the coming days.

Hack Days are occurring at REI this week. This is an annual event where employees working in product, design or engineering get some flexibility to pursue ideas we think have potential, but aren’t officially on the docket. My team is working on an AI-powered voice assistant for store employees. The goal is to give our employees quick and easy access to ops process guidance and best practices while they’re in the midst of their work on the sales floor or warehouse, so they don’t need to hunt down a standard operating procedure (SOP) or find a small piece of information within a lengthy document.

Like all internal systems and apps at REI, this hack-days product has an outdoors-inspired hame: Carson. Named after legendary conservationist and author of Silent Spring Rachel Carson, the bot is coming along nicely.

So far, we’ve spun up a locally-hosted LLM that we’re training on operational process documents, retail knowledge base articles and other sources of internal data. Next up will be to build a conversational interface that we’ll plug into the apps on store employee mobile devices. There are still a lot of tweaks needed on the model, but I’ve found the responses to be quite good.

We might be at a point later today where I could test it with store employees. I’m excited to get some feedback that we could rapidly integrate before the final deadline and pitch presentation on Friday.

You are an awful developer. In fact, to call yourself a developer is a complete fabrication. You’re not formally trained in code or capable of building anything more sophisticated than a rudimentary website. You’re a self-taught hobbyist whose curiosity has led you far enough to be dangerous.

You are a mediocre designer. In fact, to label yourself a designer would be skewing the truth and devaluing the work of those true artisans who meticulously craft delicate digital artifacts. Those perfectors of the pixel. Those framers of the future.

You are an average writer. You formulate and convey clear thoughts through the written word, however Hemingway you are not.

Your entrepreneurial and business acumen is nothing to write home about. Marketing doesn’t scare you, but you don’t enjoy it. It makes you feel dirty. Many people have made much more money in their profitable ventures. And you don’t seem to mind.

In light of these things you are not, you are able to see past the horizon. You understand how puzzle pieces fit together. You effortlessly connect people with resources and desirable outcomes.

You’re not afraid of hard work or sacrificing to get better. Your drive is a thing of wonder.

Your sense of direction is unprecedented. Some call it strategy. Others, leadership prowess. You leave it undefined, but know deep down it’s this nebulous mass throbbing in your chest that makes you special. It makes you different. It’s a thing of wonder.

You’re not a great coder, designer, writer or entrepreneur, but you might just be a great combination of those skills. Move forward with speed and confidence.

A diverse coalition of artists has united to voice objection to a $621 million copyright infringement lawsuit against the Internet Archive. The lawsuit claims the Archive is violating copyright rules under the “smokescreen” of their Great 78 Project, which aims to digitize vinyl records produced between the late-1800s and the 1950s. A portion of the Great 78 collection includes work from well-known acts like Frank Sinatra and Elvis Presley. The plaintiffs and some estates of included artists claim the project is unlawfully reproducing and distributing works under copyright.

The case is being led by music rights holders Universal Music Group and Sony Music, while the objection includes support from artists such as Amanda Palmer, Deerhoof, Real Estate, Ted Leo, Kathleen Hannah and Cloud Nothings. A judgement against the Internet Archive at the scale of $621M could bankrupt the organization.

It’s an ironic gut punch to musicians and audiences alike to see that the Internet Archive could be destroyed in the name of protecting musicians. For decades, the Internet Archive has had the backs of creators of all kinds when no one else was there to protect us, making sure that old recordings, live shows, websites like MTV News, and diverse information and culture from all over the world had a place where they’d never, ever be erased, carving out a haven where all that creativity and storytelling was recognized as a critically valuable contribution to an important historic archive. – Amanda Palmer

The Internet Archive does important work at the intersection of digital culture and public access. The work needs to continue and you can help ensure that it does.

I recently stumbled upon this post from Andy Jones-Wilkins about aging & running, and it prompted me to reflect on my own experience as a 40-something runner.

Needless to say, I’m not as speedy as I once was and my body needs longer & more frequent recovery than it did even just a couple years ago. The repetitive motion and high-impact is starting to wreak havoc on my joints and tendons. It’s taken a long time, lots of soul searching and some avoidable injuries, but it’s a truth I’ve come to accept embrace. The fact that I can’t crush 10 milers seven days a week or jump into a random marathon on a few days notice anymore has opened up a variety of new options for me to stay engaged with my physicality on a daily basis.

The most notable non-running activity I’ve grown to love is bouldering. I find it to be fundamentally different than running, however it requires a similar mindset. Bouldering and running are equally mental and physical challenges. And in my opinion, the mental challenges are always more interesting problems to solve. In running and climbing there will be times when you want to quit or bail, but mental strength will get you through.

Of course, as I get older, cycling also plays a bigger role in my life due to its low-impact cardio benefits. We’re lucky to have a great trail system here in Pittsburgh, upon which I can bike commute when I can’t work from home. I’m not a fan of riding roads due to safety issues, so the trail system is clutch and allows for some epic rides. One of these summers I want to bike pack from Pittsburgh to Washington DC on the Great Allegheny Passage.

I’ve never been into lifting weights or getting swole, but lowering my running mileage has afforded me the opportunity to begin a strength training routine. I mostly stick to bodyweight (pushups, sit-ups and pull-ups) and kettlebell/mace exercises but I’m really feeling the benefits. I feel lighter on my feet. I feel like I have more agency in my movements.

I still think of myself as primarily a runner. I’m out there 4-5 days a week now, with notably lower mileage. And for the first time in a long while, I feel absolutely wonderful when I finish a run. That’s the point of all this, right? Embracing the changes that come with aging requires work, but it’s work I’m excited to take on and continue as a practice.

Today is #GivingTuesday, a campaign designed to maximize contributions to mission-based nonprofits during the traditionally-corporate holiday shopping season. I always try to make a point to give if I am able. This year the independent web and independent journalism are top-of-mind for me. My short list for organizations to support includes the following:

• PublicSource
• ProPublica
• Social Web Foundation
• Electronic Frontier Foundation
• Small Tech Foundation

While most people know today as Black Friday (the retail industry’s busiest shopping day), those who work at REI know it as #OptOutside day. Every year on the day after Thanksgiving, all stores and offices are closed, and employees are encouraged to get outdoors, connect with nature and avoid consumerism.

Most days are #OptOutside days for me personally — it’s why I work for REI — but I absolutely love this statement even years after joining the co-op. To me it continues to demonstrate values that nature and the outdoors are more important than revenue.

So today, instead of shopping or sitting on Teams calls, I will take my kids, niece and nephews bouldering and get to show them one of the outdoor activities I’ve grown to enjoy over the past few years. It’s sub-zero here in Pittsburgh today, so we will be hitting up Iron City Boulders, but hopefully they will like it enough to give it a go outside next time.

Fresh air forever. Outdoors for all. #OptOutside

I’ve noticed a lot of talk about hyperlinks lately. A post from Nilay Patel initially caught my attention yesterday and it was followed by a wonderful article from Anil Dash about the ways corporate social media platforms like Substack work hard to co-opt open protocols and keep users inside their respective walled gardens. Key to his argument is the fact that people are now referring to their email newsletters as “their Substacks.” Dash writes:

We constrain our imaginations when we subordinate our creations to names owned by fascist tycoons. Imagine the author of a book telling people to “read my Amazon”. A great director trying to promote their film by saying “click on my Max”. That’s how much they’ve pickled your brain when you refer to your own work and your own voice within the context of their walled garden. There is no such thing as “my Substack”, there is only your writing, and a forever fight against the world of pure enshittification.

Email is email. Writing is writing. Personally, I’ve worked hard to establish a POSSE approach to publishing my thoughts on the internet. The way it works is this: I publish everything on this website, where I own the domain and the content that lives here, and then I choose how and where that content gets delivered. You like email newsletters? Cool, that’s an option. Are you old school and want to subscribe via RSS? Yup. Do you spend your time on Mastodon or Bluesky? Posts hit those platforms as well. I even do this for shorter, in the moment posts that appear as if I’m posting from within the platform itself. This way of working is my attempt to shield myself from the eventual enshittification that is inevitable on any platform that needs to create a return for investors¹.

A lot of folks are really enjoying their time on Bluesky right now. They’re harkening back to their glory days of early Twitter when the firehose still existed, reverse chron was the only feed, influencers hadn’t been born yet, and the social web was like the Wild West. I’ll admit, I am caught up in the nostalgia a bit too.

Bluesky is is a corporation, however, and it’s raising a lot of money from private equity. Eventually the platform will need to generate revenue and there are really only a few ways to do that in the context of social media. All of those ways will typically make platforms worse for users.

Hopefully I’m wrong and Bluesky becomes a social platform that honors its users at scale. Let’s enjoy it while it lasts, but I’m not holding my breath. If and when enshittification does come to Bluesky, and there is a mass exodus to the next big social platform, at least the POSSE philosophy will have served me well.

I’ve spent the last week detached and disconnected from political discourse. This is different for me. I’m normally extremely pugged in and engaged but I just can’t follow this train wreck of a transition. I can’t watch the news. The podcasts in my queue remain unheard. My initially-deactivated accounts on corporate social media platforms are now officially nuked. I’ve muted certain words on Mastodon to keep the one remaining feed I actively monitor friendly and chill.

Several friends and family members have asked me in recent days what I think about the election results. The truth is that I am not yet ready or able to talk about it. I just can’t go there. I realize how privileged that is. I realize how others, who actively live the fight and endure assaults on their rights each day, don’t have this luxury.

Mentally, I think this is the only way I’m going to be able to handle what I fear is just going to get worse.

And while I hope I may find the strength to tap back in and rejoin the fight someday, I’ve taken comfort in this slower life – and this slower web – recently. Without the constant onslaught of negativity and endless doomscrolling, I’ve found time and space to write more. I’ve been able to connect with thoughts in more substantive and reflective ways than I typically do. Of course I’m getting out on the trails, but I’ve also started a strength training program. I finished a book. And started another. I’ve been binging The Diplomat, which while political, lands far enough outside of reality to feel like fiction.

I’m also rediscovering at a deeper level the personal independent web that exists below the corporate surface of the internet. This website is emblematic of it. Thousands of other homegrown websites exchange hyperlinks to form it. Some of my favorite discoveries lately are Erin Kissane’s new Wreckage/Salvage, Naz Hamid’s wonderful site, Ben Pobjoy’s newsletter chronicling his epic adventures on foot, The Shrediverse, Cory Dransfeldt’s wonderfully built and artisanal corner of the web, Craig Mod’s Roden and Ridgeline, Robin Sloan, and of course indieweb staples like The Marginalian and Kottke.

All of this is convincing me to build out a blogroll-type list here. Maybe I will. But for now I’ll continue to bask in and admire the slowness and thoughtfulness of the hand-crafted web. The slow web. If you have a site or newsletter or post somewhere free from surveillance capitalism, hit me up. I’d love to check out your stuff.

I’ve spent most of today trying to rationalize the irrational as I attempt to understand how we ended up here. Political scholars will study this for years and I surely have no answers. Yes, the price of milk and eggs is high. Yes, illegal immigration is a problem that needs to be resolved. But shouldn’t we as humans, collectively as a nation, insist on some level of decency from our leaders? Shouldn’t our kids be able to aspire to be like people in positions of power such as the President of the United States? I say yes, but unfortunately a majority of voters disagree. The people have spoken. Amerika has spoken.

Amerika, you made a sexual predator the most powerful man in the world. How do I explain that to my daughter?

Amerika, your new president believes school shootings are just a way of life that we should get used to. How can I convey safety when my kids are scared to go to school?

Amerika, you reinstalled as president a serial adulterer who payed off a porn star to remain quiet about an affair. How can you just hold your nose and cast that vote anyway?

Amerika, you condoned the behavior of an insurrectionist who incited a mob that stormed the Capitol on January 6th, injuring several and killing a police officer. How can you reconcile that on your conscience?

Amerika, you have emboldened and elevated the worst human qualities and this choice will have unknown consequences for years – maybe decades – to come.

Amerika, I can’t understand your choice but I do hope the cost of eggs comes down for you.

This election cycle has been difficult to weather. I’m speaking for myself when I say this, but it’s also been a common sentiment in discussions with friends and family. Here in Western Pennsylvania, where pundits believe the race may be decided tomorrow, you can’t go five minutes or literally anywhere in your normal daily activities without seeing a political advertisement.

They’re on the airwaves and in the streaming feeds, they’re along the highways, they’re in people’s yards, they’re coming in via text message, they’re in the sky and they’re knocking on front doors.

This election is important. I get it. But for someone who’s been engaged in the political process for decades and someone who’s never missed a vote (even odd-year local elections) since 1996, this is the first time I can remember being completely saturated, mentally exhausted and emotionally beat down with election-based content.

I made decisions on these races months ago. I wish there would have been some way to opt-out of the onslaught, short of becoming an off-the-grid recluse for the past few weeks.

As we made the journey to our seats in peanut heaven at Acrisure Stadium the other night before the Monday Night Football game, I noticed something interesting out of the corner of my eye. Out beyond the open end of the stadium near the point of confluence, a swarm of drones lit up the night sky.

At first the drones appeared to be making elegant geometric designs. I thought it was cool and I couldn’t remember the Steelers ever making use of drones in their pre-game program. I paused to watch for a moment and then the designs began to morph into words. First Madame Vice President and then Madame President. Next the drones resolved into the Harris Walz logo.

I thought to myself, “What a subversive and smart advertising tactic!” with just enough time to grab my phone and snap a photo. When we got to the seats, there was still about 30 minutes before kickoff so I posted the photo here on my website with the caption: Harris Walz drone game is on point at tonight’s Steelers game! As with all posts on the site, the image and caption were syndicated to Mastodon, Bluesky and Threads. I then put my phone down and enjoyed watching my Pittsburgh Steelers beat those Giants in primetime.

Throughout the evening, I checked Mastodon a couple of times (per usual) to find a few friends had favorited the drone post. I don’t actively use Bluesky or Threads and I don’t have those applications installed on my phone, so the fact that the post went out to those platforms escaped me in the moment.

I usually try to check in on Bluesky and Threads replies once per day, so when I opened Threads on my laptop the next morning, I found the drone post had gone somewhat viral. At the time of this writing the post has 93K views, 12.4K likes, 246 replies and 292 reposts. Numbers of this scale are new to me. I’ve never had more than a dozen likes or replies to a post on any platform. Somehow the algorithm found this particular post, latched onto it and carried it across the Threads ecosystem.

A quick dive into the replies (I don’t recommend it) surfaces some of the worst of humanity. The comments trend toward distasteful, border on offensive and come from a wide-range of perspectives including crypto bots and MAGA trolls. There is even one commenter who claims it didn’t happen and asserts that I photoshopped the Harris Walz logo into the image.

While Meta and Threads talk about embracing the Fediverse and have taken some steps to walk the walk, their use of and reliance on algorithms alongside ActivityPub troubles me. What was it about this particular post that invited the algorithm to take hold? Was there something about the image itself? Or the caption? Or was it simply the network effect and extrapolation?

Whatever the cause, the experience raises some questions for me about my intention for cross-posting from this site. For now, I think I will disable Threads cross-posting because I’m not interested in going viral due to an algorithm boost. I write and publish as a method of capturing moments, and engaging in meaningful dialog with people about the topics that interest me. Threads does not seem like the place for that kind of interaction.

I have school-age kids. Enabling stricter gun laws and eliminating mass shootings from our society is a top issue for me this election, ranked only behind preserving democracy and the U.S. Constitution. Thank you to The Verge for having the guts to publish this piece when other spineless & fear-clouded media companies refuse to take a position on this election:

It should be easy for Vance to imagine a world in which school shootings don’t happen — that is the pre-Heller world he grew up in! — but fixing the problem of school shootings requires admitting that a collective action problem exists. It requires admitting that the current policy solution — sending kids to school with fucking Kevlar in their backpacks — is less effective than restricting gun ownership in any meaningful way. He cannot do that. Trump cannot do that. Trumpism cannot allow that debate to happen.

The op-ed closes with this passage:

It is time to stop denying the essential nature of the problems America faces. It is time to insist that we use the power of our democracy the way it’s intended to be used. And it is far past time to move beyond Donald Trump…A vote for Harris is a vote for the future. It is a vote for solving collective action problems. It is a vote for working together, instead of tearing our world to shreds.

Only one candidate is interested in solving collective action problems. Harris is the candidate. And The Verge is the type of journalism we need to help carry the message forward.

AI startup Anthropic yesterday announced an update to the Claude 3.5 Sonnet large language model that brings a new feature called ‘computer use’ to the forefront of the user experience. Available to developers via the API, users can now direct Claude to use computers like people – surveying open windows and performing operations like moving the mouse cursor, clicking links and buttons, and drafting text.

This is a huge development in the AI space, and one that Anthropic’s rivals in the space are pursuing with great priority. While the tech is nascent, slow and error-prone, the potential is immense. Casey Newton writing for Platformer:

But to use another phrase popular among the AI crowd, the agent that Anthropic released today is as bad as this kind of software will ever be. From this moment on, AI will no longer be limited to what can be typed inside a box. Which means it’s time for the rest of us to start thinking outside that box, too.

I’ve never been a huge proponent or advocate for AI¹ , but it’s impossible to deny the impact and influence on our daily lives in the wake of developments like this.

Several months ago, I began using both Claude and ChatGPT to understand how I might use LLMs to improve my professional workflows. Personally, I’ve found Claude to be a better fit for my use cases, which are specific to product management duties such as synthesizing user feedback, analyzing value and impact, and specifying acceptance criteria in technical terms.

With advancements like Anthropic’s ‘computer use’ happening so rapidly in the AI space, it’s daunting to think about what might be coming at us next. One might say the future is already here. I might say we’re perpetually living in it.

Ryan Broderick writing in yesterday’s Garbage Day about the state of the social web as it relates to text-first platforms like Bluesky, Xitter and Threads:

Unless something truly miraculous happens, it is reasonable to assume that every day there will be fewer people reading words on the internet than there were the day before.

I hope this won’t be the case and will do everything I can to make sure it doesn’t. The fundamental building blocks of the web are words and hyperlinks. Both must have a place in perpetuity if the web is to function as it was intended, as we want and need it to.

The web needs words.

Beck Tench is a designer and researcher who studies the way technology impacts our lives at Harvard’s Center for Digital Thriving. Her mission is simple: begin to understand what it means for young people to thrive in this increasingly digital and connected world.

I’ve been a fan of Beck’s work since we initially crossed paths more than a decade ago, when we both focused on building compelling digital experiences for museums. I worked primarily with art museums and she worked primarily with science museums. We both brought a healthy sense of skepticism to the task of infusing cultural experiences with technology, and held a high regard of professional respect for each other’s approach to digital mindfulness. In fact, we collaborated twice (1, 2) and each conversation ranks as a personal highlight during my time in the museum sector.

While we haven’t kept in touch, I’ve been following Beck’s professional journey through her newsletter, Making Thriving Visible. And while everything she writes is interesting to me, I found her most recent update to be extremely profound. In it, Beck uses the analogy of a tiger named Mohini – who was conditioned by zookeepers to exist within an uncaged 12’ x 12’ space – to explain the way digitally-enabled grind culture was negatively impacting her mindset and happiness.

Through likening her situation to Mohini’s experience, Beck came to the realization that she was not thriving. She made some impactful changes and now considers the definition of thriving in a whole new light:

I am beginning to see thriving, digitally or otherwise, as a practice. It’s not a destination. It isn’t static. We can be thriving and things can change. We can change. If Mohini had ventured out of her 12x12 self-imposed cage… if she had explored the trees and hills and plants and pond, would she have started to notice the exhibit fence? Would she have wondered what was on the other side?

Thriving as a practice. I can get behind that, and I think to some extent I’m subconsciously working on it. The mindful changes I’ve made in my digital and professional footprint are evidence, but after reading Beck’s piece I am going formalize my thriving practice by creating a reflection and future visioning routine.

If you’re interested in digital mindfulness, I highly recommend Beck’s newsletter. You can subscribe via Substack, or via RSS (like I do) to avoid any surveillance capitalism that may be associated with the delivery platform.

Ryan Broderick has some theories in today’s Garbage Day newsletter about why Republican disinformation isn’t completely gumming up the works this time around:

Is it because the media has gotten institutionally smarter about giving these stories oxygen? Is it because industry-wide layoffs have gutted newsrooms across the country and now there’s just fewer reporters to throw at stupid shit editors saw on Twitter/X? Is it because cable news audiences are literally dying off? Is it because Facebook has gotten rid of news content? Who knows, but things have changed in that regard.

It’s a little bit of all of this, I think. The media has gotten smarter about fanning the flames, but I hope we have too. If we haven’t gotten smarter, than maybe we’ve gotten tired of hearing about these disinformation narratives at every online turn. I mean, that’s a primary reason for my not using social media these days. Broderick continues:

The online pathways that the right wing have relied on since 2015 to, not just win elections, but shape America’s national discourse are gone. And it’s almost entirely because pathologically annoying conservatives pushed everyone else out. All of the viral energy around Walz might turn into something that America’s various horrible uncles might ramble about incoherently at the Thanksgiving table in a few weeks — if Harris wins, I guess — but unless a Republican operative Mr. Magoo’s themselves into a real scoop about Walz’s past, none of this is really going to move the needle.

This is right. We are now able to see our collective crazytown uncles and their wild theories as simply weird. And because the theories are not sucking the life out of our social fabric, we have the choice to participate with it. Or not. I choose the latter.

As an aside, Garbage Day is consistently one of the few email newsletters I read from top to bottom. The way Broderick weaves thoughtful and astute sociological observations against a backdrop of social media dumpster fires and the political hellscape we find ourselves in on the reg is a thing of beauty. Highly recommended.

A few articles about the shopping habits of Gen Z have caught my attention over the past few days. As someone who works in retail technology – leading a team that focuses on sales floor operations – I keep a close eye on consumer trends. These two pieces, published within days of each other in separate outlets, are interesting to me because they reinforce a singular thesis: digital natives enjoy shopping in physical stores.

Modern Retail sets the stage with reference to an ICSC study that highlights the social nature of shopping for young people:

Sixty percent of the ICSC survey’s Gen Z respondents said they visit malls to socialize or meet friends even if they don’t need something specific, 60% also said they would rather spend money on experiences than material items, and 70% said retail centers and stores have done a good job designing things for Gen Z members to enjoy together.

This is interesting. I think the social experience created inside a store flys under the radar of most retailers. This is natural because we’re primarily business-minded and transactional in nature. Creating an environment for social connection on our sales floors not only meets this need for young customers, but it creates opportunity for connection points among all in-store customers. If you can do that well, it’s a big step toward creating community.

To my surprise, a few days after reading the Modern Retail article I stumbled upon a similar piece in The Guardian about how bookshops are suddenly cool¹ with Gen Z and Millennials. Some of the same themes are reinforced here, notably how physical space can foster community and a growing aversion to algorithmic recommendations:

“I think it’s kind of a misconception that younger people want to do everything online or only care about how things look on social media,” Grace Gooda, the manager at Morocco Bound in Bermondsey tells me. “In our experience … it creates a relationship where they trust our recommendations and might take home something they wouldn’t have seen advertised elsewhere.”

This deeper connection is what really makes physical bookshops appeal to many younger readers. “Bookshops aren’t just places to buy books, they’re places of community, of gathering and this is something that’s actively fostered by so many bookshops,” Ash, 29, from Yorkshire, says. “Speaking to staff to get book recommendations is often a path into hearing more about the community aspects of bookshops, too – it’s often more than just a book recommendation.”

When I think about how these threads apply to my daily work at REI, I think there is relevance here. We already do a great job of showcasing the knowledge & expertise of our store employees, but we can definitely do more to foster human connection in our stores – inclusive of employee-to-customer and customer-to-customer experiences. My world (store technology) can play an important role in this effort, but it will take a truly collaborative effort across all store teams to create compelling experiences for the next generation of outdoor enthusiasts.

According to TechRadar, vinyl record sales dropped 33.3% between 2023 and 2024. Before I dive into the substance of this, the reporting outlet must have taken a slight liberty with the 33 1/3 percentage drop, right? I mean, what are the odds that the vinyl sales dip would equate precisely to the RPM speed of an LP?

Anyhoo, Carrie Marshall writes:

I love vinyl, and in a world where streaming CEOs have a higher net worth than almost any musician in history, I want to support artists directly by buying their stuff. But like many music fans, I’m buying a lot less now because I simply can’t afford the prices being charged.

I love vinyl, too. And supporting artists directly is important to me; it’s why I migrated away from using streaming services. However it’s very hard for me to justify spending $30 - $50 for a vinyl record, therefore I’ve been buying more digital downloads from Bandcamp lately.

My hope is that all of this is pointing toward a reaction in the vinyl market, after which we might get a settling of the supply and demand forces. I’d love to support more artists through the purchase of physical media, but it will be hard for most people until the prices come down.

Running trails in Western Pennsylvania in the Fall can be glorious. Crisp temperatures, bright sun and fall colors combine to create ideal running conditions. That said, hitting the trails this time of year can also be somewhat treacherous. The changing leaves are beautiful, but the falling leaves cover the single track, concealing the rocks and roots underfoot.

I’ve been running in this area for years, and I know this. As I was cruising the White trail in North Park yesterday, a hidden rock caught my toe and I went down hard. Head first. Superman style. The fall left me with a nice gash on my knee and trail rash on my shin, hip and forearm. My right side, which took the brunt of the impact, is quite sore today.

Luckily I’ve learned how to fall to minimize significant harm. Had I not ’tucked and rolled,’ this one could have been much worse. Broken wrist, probably. A fall like this comes with the territory of trail running, and is a good reminder to stay present and mindful with footfalls this time of year in the northeast.

Heads up! Tomorrow is Bandcamp Friday, where Bandcamp waives it’s fees and passes those funds on directly to artists and labels. Here are a couple releases that have caught my interest and will probably make their way into my collection tomorrow:

Dulling the Horns by Wild Pink: Just. Wow. The guitar tones on this record are so interesting. Fuzzed-out and warm like a fleece blanket on a winter day. And the songwriting is so good.

H. E. Double Hockey Sticks by The Hell Hole Store: I really like the vibe of these guys, who are based in Philadelphia. Dope rhymes and sick beats. Wit wiz.

Hurricane Relief by Jon Charles Dwyer: This is a benefit release and Dwyer is donating all his proceeds to the Hurricane Helene relief efforts throughout Appalachia. Tomorrow is a good day to maximize your support.

Exhaust by Pyrrhon: These guys are from NYC and they are siiiick. Epic blast beats, tasteful breakdowns and full-on goblin mode vocals.

opaque by Mo Dotti: Dreamy shoegaze from this LA-based outfit. Jangly guitars and thick tones back reverb-soaked vox. Feels like this one would be good late at night with some bourbon.

sentiment by Claire Rousay: This came out earlier this year, but I slept on grabbing it. I guess you could consider this singer-songwriter? The arrangements and production are so interesting though, so I struggle to pigeon-hole it.

A couple months ago, my GPS watch stopped syncing with Strava. For whatever reason at the time, I was unable to restore the connection. I was also not in a position to spend $$$ on a new GPS watch, so since this disconnect was introduced my activities have no longer been pushing out to the popular social network for endurance athletes. As an active daily user who dished out boku kudos, I was initially quite bummed. And because I wasn’t posting to Strava, I stopped opening the app and reviewing what my friends were doing.

In the days since, I’ve noticed my mindset has been much healthier with respect to my exercise activities. So much of my time spent in Strava was me comparing my stats, paces and distances to others’. This resulted (subconsciously) in feeling pressure to always push harder, faster and further. I was losing the joy associated with getting outside and moving my body through the natural world.

In recent weeks, it’s been refreshing to get out for runs, rides and climbs simply for my own personal enjoyment, rather than feeding the ego associated with throwing down something epic for the kudos. It’s funny how this small technical hiccup has allowed me to recenter on my love for movement outside instead of the dopamine that came from the likes after the fact.

It’s release day for my team at REI. We’ve been working tirelessly for the past few months to build a tool that makes pricing product in our stores easier and less painful for employees. Our goal is to replace an archaic, manual & paper-based workflow with a modern, scalable, digitally-supported tool and standard operating process (SOP) that streamlines sales floor operations across the Co-op.

This morning, we deployed the tool to our first group of pilot stores. Exciting! As a data-driven product manager, these days are like Christmas morning. It’s like I woke up to some new datasets under the tree and I can’t wait to unwrap them to see what insights might be inside.

Every now and then I catch myself lamenting that I don’t work on products with millions of users or billions in revenue. But then I catch myself on days like this when I can see the thing we’ve built in the hands of REI’s amazing employees. I can see them using it and the positive impact it makes in their daily lives. I can hear the pain points surfaced in our feedback channels rapidly fade off into the distance. I can watch the thing we’ve built make our stores a better place to work for more than 10,000 people who wear the REI green vest with pride.

I think that kind of direct, measurable impact is something special.

The next few weeks will likely be hectic as the team analyzes and responds to usage data, fields feedback from employees, and optimizes for rollout to all 190 locations. When we get to that point, I’ll circle back with some insights.

Cory Doctorow – writing for Locus Mag and using the Stanford marshmallow experiment as an allegory – tears down the inherent flaws of the conservative premise that self-discipline is a determining factor on someone’s chances in life:

On average, the kids who “fail” and eat the marshmallow rather than waiting and doubling their haul were poorer, while the “patient” kids were from wealthier back­grounds. When the “impatient” kids were asked about the thought process that led to their decision to eat the marshmallow rather than holding out for two, they revealed a great deal of future-looking thought…The adults in these kids’ lives had broken their promises many times: Their parents would promise material comforts, from toys to treats, that they were ultimately unable to provide due to economic hardship.

Conversely, those kids who were able to delay their gratification for double the reward came from wealthier homes:

Which means that the “patient” kids weren’t demonstrat­ing “self-control” – rather, their willingness to wait for a second marshmallow reflected a charmed life in which adults came through with the goodies they promised. That same charmed life saw those subjects enrolled in the best schools, backstopped by tutors and college application consultants, significant parental financial contributions to excellent postsecondary education, and smooth entry into the job market.

Self-discipline and delayed gratification are virtues worth developing in all humans. Our planet and future generations depend on it. But it can only be done when people are on equal footing stable enough to allow for that development.

We have some pretty technical trails here in Western Pennsylvania and I’m usually reliable for a good fall every few months. In my mind, it goes with the territory of running on top of rocks, roots and mud. Even the best and most accomplished trail runners bite the dust. It’s been quite some time – over a year I think – since I’ve taken a digger on a run, but today was my day!

I’ve been getting out early, pre-dawn with a head torch, and pushing my pace on some faster, shorter jaunts. Today, however, I decided at the start that I’d take a relaxed route and go super easy.

The first mile was awesome. Air was a warm 67º F and it hasn’t rained in a week so the trails were perfection. Feeling excellent, I entered the section of North Park’s red trail where the tall pines pierce the sky like wooden daggers.

Then I felt it. You know what I’m talking about. I felt my toe catch on an object underfoot and everything went into slow motion. In no particular order all of the following rushed through my brain prior to my hitting the ground:

• Was that a rock or a root?
• I wonder if I can save this?
• Nope, not gonna be able to save this.
• Oh man, this is a rocky section of trail.
• Shit, this is gonna hurt.
• How should I land? Brace with hands or tuck-n-roll?
• When is the last time I fell? I can’t remember.
• Ground approaching, prepare for impact.
• FUUUUU….

And then it was over. There I was, layed out in the wooded darkness, headlamp shining vertically up into the emerging sky, with a mouthful of trail. I spit out the dirt, brushed myself off and took a moment to assess my condition.

All good. Nothing broken. No blood. All I have to show is a few scratches on my knee and elbow, and a bruised ego. Hopefully I’m good for at least a year until the next one.

Jason Fried making an analogy that companies are like complex languages where new executives sometimes struggle to gain proficiency:

A casual browse through LinkedIn at C-level folks will unearth many short tenures. 2 years. 3 and a half. Sometimes just 1. It’s incredibly hard to become a high-expectation native speaker in such short order. This leads to what I call “churnover” — a high turnover rate driven by the churn of executives struggling to fully integrate into their new corporate language.

It’s an astute observation. I’ve seen this over and over during my time in retail. A new executive comes in, speaks an entirely different language, is unable to gain traction and ultimately leaves for greener pastures in short order.

The great leaders, however, are able to quickly assimilate into the existing culture. They learn and speak the language of the locals, while working to introduce new and effective colloquialisms as they earn trust across the organization.

As someone who was born on the blurry border between Generation X and the Millennial generation, I remember a time before the internet and I fondly recollect my curiosity surrounding the emerging internet in the late-90s. The infant internet was an extremely strange place. There were very few rules, even fewer boundaries and – as far as I could gather – no limits to the interconnected potential of this new universe.

I wanted to know how it worked, so I too could have a hand in creating the magic of the World Wide Web. I viewed page sources and inspected elements to learn how HTML and CSS fused together to make websites. I started making my own sites and added them to webrings. Remember those?

AOL gave way to Geocities gave way to Blogger gave way to Wordpress, which led to MySpace which led to Twitter. At the dawn of early social media, I felt just as excited about using the web to connect and share with likeminded people who were equally excited about the promise of digital culture. The early days of Twitter felt like the Wild West. Everyone was exploiting the tech for their own needs via open APIs and user-generated features like the hashtag.

The progress in this space in the early- to mid-2000s was a thing of wonder. We started to see its impact on communities, politics, art + culture, and social justice. Social media had become the great democratizer.

And then somewhere along the line money, user data, and algorithms took over.

Reverse chronological timelines morphed into algorithmic feeds labeled ‘For You,’ but the feeds don’t actually show posts from the people you follow. This helped create the attention economy and influencers were born. Shortly after, the 2016 & 2020 elections helped create a toxic level of political polarization, online echo chambers fortified the barriers between those polarized, and misinformation campaigns continue to feed the flames of the burning social stack.

I’m done with all that. Over time I’ve learned that participating in the attention economy negatively impacts my mental and emotional well being and I am making a conscious choice to walk away from it. In support of this decision, I am rethinking how I spend my time online. Connecting and sharing with people is still important to me, but I want to do it in a mindful and responsible way. Here’s how I plan to do this:

• Reinvest in publishing on a personal domain. I’ve written on the web since I was a kid and I really enjoy the act of working through thoughts and then putting those thoughts out into the world to see what comes back. A personal site allows for writing at a deeper level than social media will allow and I maintain control over the final product. This website – built on the Micro.Blog platform and underlying Hugo CMS – will be my home for that moving forward.
• Integrate with the social web. I’ve consolidated my social media use to Mountains.Social, a decentralized instance of Mastodon that caters to outdoors enthusiasts. The people are friendly, the community is vibrant, the culture is healthy and there are no algorithms. I’m enjoying my time there. Check it out if you’re interested, or not. No pressure. All posts here will automatically cross-post there, as well as Bluesky (although I am not really hanging out there very much).

So here’s to hoping I can enjoy a healthy relationship with the internet again. The spirit of the open web was a philosophical pillar for me at one point in my life, and I’m hoping that it will be again. Hello, old friend.

I’ve been a subscriber to Implications, a monthly Substack newsletter written by Scott Belsky, for some time now. The issues I’ve read so far have been quite enjoyable, as Belsky provides deep analysis that explores what we might expect to come from rapid advancements in technology, shifts in culture, and the evolution of product design & management.

The latest installment includes a section called Insights from the Modern Product Leader and there are some great thought nuggets for product managers to consider as we work on our individual practices.

On the topic of resources versus resourcefulness, and the nuances that exist between them, Belsky writes:

I like to say, if resources are carbs that you can throw at your problems, resourcefulness is muscle that has far longer lasting power and is worth building (despite the pain of doing so).

This is great context for approaching resourcefulness with a growth mindset. It’s something the triad of my product team works on consciously and regularly. Building that muscle is important to ensure our resiliency through ongoing organizational change.

And on product vision, he proposes a thoughtful triad of considerations:

Clarity In Product Strategy: Does every product have a flag planted and a roadmap for how to get there? We should always have a 3-year vision coupled with an annual plan, and your teams should be aligned around what this is throughout your organizations.

Great product teams have a clear strategy and are able to articulate the path to achieve it. Great organizations position product teams to ladder their product strategies up to a broader set of strategic objectives for the company._

Steward The Narrative for Your Segment or Function: The narrative of why your work matters and how your strategy impacts customers is yours to write, share, and iterate.

The internal PR for a product is often overlooked by teams because they are largely, and rightly, focused on executing the work. Telling the story of the work – the impact it will create, the benefits it will provide and the process used to deliver – is an important piece to a product team’s success, and can lend weight to the resiliency efforts outlined above.

Optimistic About Future, Pessimistic About Present: Do you lead with a balance of excitement and vision for the future of a segment/function — and willingness to take big bets — coupled with a pragmatic focus on obstacles and tasks to be done? Are you direct with what is going right and what is going wrong?

This is great. Balance is vital. Great product leaders are simultaneously able to understand long-term goals, but are also realists about current state. They can see either the stepping stones of incrementality and/or the seismic shifts they need to force in order to get to the objectives, and they have the wisdom, empathy, and creativity to understand when to employ each.

As summer winds down, here are a few artists & records that have been in my heavy rotation lately.

• Jesse Welles is like an angry Josiah & the Bonnevilles. His new album Hells Welles is a cathartic teardown of modern society. Think Arlo Guthrie singing about Boeing whistleblowers.
• Second Dinner by slimdan has been in my heavy rotation for a few weeks now. I am simply loving his pop-driven songs. They’re smart and catchy, and carry melodies that seem both familiar and fresh at the same time. My favorite track on the record is Wimbleton White.
• Font is scratching my indie-rock itch these days. Elaborate and angular, the songs on their 2024 release Strange Burden swell with substance. Complex time signatures and counterpoint lines weave throughout. But you can still feel the groove and dance to it.
• If you’re looking for some chill, instrumental tunes to put on while working or relaxing, Glass Beams may be of interest. Hailing from down under, their trance-inducing vibes are feel-good and groovy. You can be productive and bounce your head at the same time.

This past weekend on March 17, I ran what has become my favorite trail race: The Rabid Raccoon Midnight Half Marathon. It’s one of several distances – 100M, 100K, 13.1 morning & 13.1 midnight – offered by Wolf Creek Race Management under the Rabid Raccoon banner. The concept is simple: Show up at midnight and run 13.1 miles through the woods in complete darkness while dealing with serious elevation, unpredictable weather conditions and sleep deprivation. How awesome is that!

My first experience with this race was last year in 2023. Temperatures were brutal, 19º at the start and 13º at the finish. My water froze within the first few miles, the course was extremely challenging, and after running for a few hours in the woods I was pretty close to hypothermic. But I persevered and finished in the top ten. So when registration opened up for the 2024 race, I had to toe the line again.

There were some changes implemented this year, however. The race location was moved to Brady’s Run, a quaint community park located in Beaver Falls. The race was also changed to a half-marathon, when in previous years it was a 20 miler.

Having done a bit of recon with Rob a few weeks ahead of time to understand the course, I made a couple mental notes and developed a simple strategy for my race:

• The first ~5 miles are pretty flat and take place on a mix of road, crushed limestone, grass and jeep trails. I planned to take these quickly, but not red line. If I could keep these miles at or just under 8-minute miles, I thought I’d be in good pack position going into the single track with enough gas to push my tempo for the remaining 8 miles.
• There are three significant climbs on the course: mile 5, mile 9 and mile 11. I planned to be conservative on the climbs and then bomb the flats & downhills. It is all downhill for the last 2 miles after the final climb at 11. If I kept enough gas in the tank to open up the throttle on those final 2 miles, it could be a very strong finish.

Toeing the line this year was a very different experience than last year. First of all, temperatures were in the 50s (balmy!) with showers slated for just after midnight. Second, the start and finish lines were inside the Brady’s Run recreation center, which gave people a nice place to hang out before and after the race.

About five minutes before midnight, Rob and I entered the starting corral with 121 other runners. After some pre-race announcements and the national anthem, the airhorn sounded and we were off.

Out of the gate I hung with the middle of the pack in order to settle into a groove. After about a quarter mile, I looked at my watch and noticed we were cruising at about a 9 minute mile. I decided to pick it up to 7:45 and this started to create some separation from the pack. At this time it looked that there were about 10 runners ahead – 3 or 4 way out front (probably running sub-7) and 5 or 6 within striking distance.

I held strong and reserved at 8:15 through the first 2.5 miles and picked off 2 or 3 runners during that road section. At mile 2.5 there was a small climb to another 2.5 miles of jeep trail. Once on the jeep road, I was surprised to find flow again right at 7:45. This is where it started to get muddy; there were some splashy sections and some peanut buttery sections. Between mile 3 and 5, there was a guy drafting me, breathing super heavy. I got a sense he was pushing pretty hard to keep up.

The Breather and I ran together all the way to the mile 5 climb. My strategy was to power hike the three major climbs so once we were on the first, I settled into a driving power hike. The Breather had different intentions so I let him pass and he continued to run up the incline.

With The Breather now pulling away from me, I found myself in the situation I remembered from the previous year: just me – alone – in the middle of the woods, in the middle of the night.

At the top of the hill, I kicked it back into gear and settled into a moderate trail pace over the flowy single track. I basically ran the next 8 miles completely alone, except for some 100-milers who were in the zombie phase of their adventures.

There was a great stream crossing just before the mile 9 climb. I remembered this stream from the recon run with Rob, but was surprised to find it as high as it was. The water was up to my thigh at one point.

The climbs at 9 and 11 went as planned but the rain started somewhere along the way and the mud was getting progressively worse. There was one section on the final climb where I was literally calf-deep in mud and thought my Lone Peaks were going to get sucked off my feet. Quicksand-type stuff.

As I neared the top of the final climb, I saw some headlamps ahead. Still feeling good and with only 2 miles left, I turned on the jets. I saw myself gaining on one of the runners ahead who was walking. It was The Breather! I took him pretty quickly and locked in on two more headlamps ahead.

By this time I was pushing pretty hard and I didn’t seem to be gaining on the two runners ahead. I kept pushing but never caught them. They must have saved some juice for their kick as well. The final descent to the rec center and finish line was pretty dicey with all the mud and rain, but I traversed it without issue and sprinted inside to finish the race in 2 hours 6 minutes. I placed 6th overall.

I love this race and recommend it to anyone who enjoys unique experiences and challenges in their adventures. Kudos to Wolf Creek on the success. I’ll definitely be back next year and will likely make this an annual tradition moving forward.