Week notes: 100 miles

“The quantified self” is shit, but still I take a keen interest in, mostly, how far and fast I’ve ridden my bicycle. The noted truck simulator driver Limmy this week flirted with the idea of bicycling 100 miles per week, before bottling it and downgrading it to 10 miles per weekday. Pfft! This week, not including some “utility cycling” when I forgot to twiddle with my silly digital watch to make it record the activity, I rode for 100 miles. Last year, it seems this was a regular occurrence, but it’s the most prolific week I’ve recorded so far this year.

Caring about this stuff is somehow acceptable, but there are some things I’m diametrically opposed to. Riding a stationary, indoor “exercise bike”, for example (even though I tried it once and it was a bit fun).

The Trashfuture podcast is slightly irritating, and sometimes has inconsequential inaccuracies about things like the name of a tinned pie brand or the details of concessionary travel passes in Kent, but I was pleased that one of the targets of their lampooning this week was an company that makes a deluxe internet-connected stationary bicycle.

There are some particularly weird things about the Peloton Interactive, Inc – they’re highly valued, and one of their key innovations is offering interest-free loans – but I’m just unreasonably irked by anything like a big hamster wheel. It’s far better to be outside, in the rain, inhaling hydrocarbon fumes, maybe incorporating some other economic activity. For example, my bicycling this week meant I got to eat a smoked salmon and cream cheese sandwich and see a steam train.

Living my best life.


Some local elections happened. In voting for local councillor, it’s difficult to say anything very nuanced about breakfast or anything. According to local press, our victorious local candidate’s top priority is preventing the erection of mobile phone masts, whereas the chap I voted for thinks affordable housing is more important. (Get you a man that can do both!) But apparently I was sending a message about breakfast. Ugh.