On gadgets

Clipped in on my carbon road bike, I escaped after putting my son down for his nap. Earplugs have been on for a few hours. Now paired with the helmet and wraparound sunglasses for the full sporty-techno-bozo look. On my wrist, a freshly unboxed, camping-mug-sized sports watch. It’s absurdly big yet surprisingly comfortable. More like a stiff sleeve than a watch. No carpal pressure to report. Well done, Coros.

After a few minutes fiddling with the UI and a firmware update, I’m out for my second solo ride since baby #2. The saddle and aero position barely override the fun of speed.

A young lady running stops by as I’m stretching my sore butt 5 miles in. She told me she was running to the beach as her activity of the day. I told her I was escaping my family for a joy ride. We joke about how inevitable headwind is today before getting back into it. She gave me mild forest Gump vibes. No music, no water, on the footage road, next to the freeway. My people fun.

Even with earplugs, the freeway below and the wind were unpleasant. I’m torn. I went out just because I have a bike and wanted to test out the watch, not because I deeply wanted it. I’m back in the garage at the before the hour mark, to conserve some leg power. The data and my internal resources management inform me that I still have about 3000+ steps to go today. The pulsing in my legs confirms. The watch says it wasn’t much of a workout.

I spent a while browsing the quirky watch faces. The fit keeps surprising me, it just works. The silicon band doesn’t pull my hair or slip. The dark grey plastic slab looks goofy on my thin wrist. The screen has the resolution of a gameboy. Specks of food don’t show. It’s silly. So am I. Maybe that’s why it fits.

Maybe I’m a huge bozo – and need to do something about after this sign.

Lots of new gadgets lately. All in quiet contradiction with what I read and believe. So many fancy things around, the result of money and trying to enjoy it while holding the parental fort. The care and space needed for each new thing quickly nulls the value add. Returns happen. Then the hedonic treadmill resumes. Guilt and shame accumulate, not enough to stop the wheel.

My current early morning regimen supposed to rebuild off-screen stamina is not doing much aside of delaying the dope. News slips through the cracks of my discipline. When blips of silence occur, the message is clear: nice, but heck that can’t be it.

My youngest is a ball of joy that too often has to compete with screens. He is in his prime –every man’s prime– 9 to 18 months old, pure joy and tumbling with curiosity. Becoming sentient bite after bite… But I want to be present for my own sake. I haven’t created an environment where I can balance screens/physical life. There is always a big 75-25 bias. Not that I can’t cram 10,000 steps into that 25% or perform my parental duties.

I’m definitely returning the Coros. It’s a great watch. Everything is great. What a time to admire gadgets. But I’d rather see life as art than as sport. I’m no Rich Roll rocking a mala and triathlon gear. No Manu on a mountain. No Craig Mod walking himself clean. I love them all, but they’re outliers.

My eyes see gadgets as gateways to new lifestyles. My wife sees percentage points of quality of life improvements. None of that is wrong but I know there is more to it. The attention each object demands, the setup, the care, the mental slot it occupies, is a tax on presence. Everyone has their thing now. Gear, hobby, “jam” — different words for the same impulse. Varying degrees of honesty.

I can’t pretend I’m above it. I’ve been conditioned. Maybe that’s the game I’m really playing: learning to notice when I’m the gadget.

← Index / Published on 2025-10-07