In Praise of the Things Left Undone

watch on youtube

"Pendulum" chronicles the life of a man doing it all. Rob Pizem is a husband, father, high school teacher, gym instructor, and professional rock climber. I've followed Rob on Instagram for some time; since I am a teacher and a climber and a husband, Pizem is a kind of inspiration of mine. At one point in the film, the person behind the camera asks Rob, "Could you tell me how many days a year you would consider yourself to be productive?" Without blinking and without sarcasm Rob laconically responds: "365." And it made me sad. 


Something ought to be said in praise of the things left undone. The clothes left unfolded. The emails unread. The bouldering projects not sent. The unfinished book on the nightstand to return to. Let us give thanks, even, for the missed deadline because our value is not determined by our production capacity. 



In graduate school, a guest speaker urged my cohort to be a people that fight for sabbath. Sabbath, being rest or specifically, work stoppage. It is an archaic word from the Hebrew Bible. There, the story goes, that God rests after the act of creation. Thus, building into the cosmic order a rhythm of work and rest. It is later codified by Moses in the Ten Commandments as a public act of resistance and a communal identity marker.



“Sabbath,” “rest,” or leaving things undone is very difficult. There is an invisible hand always pushing us to do. Moses names it Pharaoh, Marx calls it capitalism, and Pizem describes it as "the pendulum." Whatever it is it is the thing that tells us we have to be doing, achieving, accomplishing, performing, and acquiring. Rest defies the logic of the production-obsessed society where we have to always be more than we are. Later in the film, Rob speaks over panoramas of the Western Slope conceding, "If I am not achieving, it is the worst moment of my life... what's the point of living?" Likewise, we constantly struggle to do more and get more and we never slow down because we believe if we do, not only will we not have enough but we won't be enough.  
 


Even our "rest" falls under the omnipresent purview of the market. Our "time off" is often measured by production pressures, schedules, and quotas. How many miles can I run? How many pitches can I get done? Or how much progress can I make on my project? I have chosen to not go for a bike ride because it wasn't going to be more than 12 miles and anything under 12 miles wasn't worth doing because it wasn't enough. That is a very dumb thing to do. Shouldn't just riding my bike be enough?



If riding my bike is fun, it shouldn't matter how far I go. And if I am a human being, my worthiness is not a function of my utility and productivity. I am not my capacity to produce. And I am certainly not the grade that I climb or mileage I can bike. I have intrinsic value shared with all just because I am. This isn't an argument for slothfulness, nor is it a manifesto against setting goals and pursuing them. It is a celebration of life beyond productivity. It is a summons to rest. 



So here's to that stack of ungraded papers because I went rock climbing instead.
 


Here's to that unfinished bouldering project because I got drinks with friends.
 


Here's to not going anywhere and not doing anything but sitting with my dog and marveling at how content she is doing absolutely nothing but just being. 

Here’s to that ancient Hebrew word, shabbat. 

(And Mr. Pizem, if you're reading this: you're still my hero. I just want you to take a day off. Maybe ride a bike?)

Like this post? Continue to support megasplitter by subscribing to the mailchimp, commenting on, and sending the posts that you like to your friends.

On Pooping Your Pants Outside

In the summer of my twenty-third year, I pooped my pants in Sunshine Canyon, Colorado. Eight years later, I can take you to the exact spot it happened, to the exact place I buried my underwear in shame.  

A few years ago, my friend Paul and I were hiking to climb at the Obed and discussing the lyrics of Ice Cube’s “Good Day” when somewhere along the way the discussion turned to pooping your pants. I recounted my experience in Colorado: my first real cross-country climbing trip with my friend Kyle. He was a vegan and I was not but to keep our budget reasonable we shared his diet for a few weeks. Of course, if you’ve ever made the transition to a totally plant-based diet you know that your bowels will take some adjusting. Mine did exactly that one evening after a very bean-y dinner. I reared back (as one does) and forced out what was supposed to be a hilarious fart. Except, it was more. It was a lot more. And I waddled off into the dark and dug a shallow grave for my underpants.

Most people think of pooping your pants as a bimodal probability across one’s lifespan, as an inverse bell curve: babies poop their pants and old people poop their pants. But, according to Paul, pooping your pants is a multimodal probability — not just for infants and the elderly. 

There must be some account for people who spend a lot of time in the woods. It would appear that another “peak” or “local maxima” should be added to our graph for the potty-trained aged outdoor folks who, for one reason or another, have their own muddy butt stories. Whether the inability to dig a hole fast enough, a beany vegan diet, or giardia, take it from professional rock climber Jason Kruk who reminded all of us about the statistical probability of pooping your pants when he said, “It’s just an odds thing, really.”

Here are some stories shared by friends, whose names have been redacted or changed (to characters from Gilligan's Island), where the odds were definitely not in their favor. They are posted here in solidarity with all those with similar stories, for educational purposes and, of course, a good laugh. You may notice a recurring theme of burying one's underwear in the woods. This is not LNT and should be avoided at all costs. Learn from us.

On Giardia or "Beaver Fever"

“Summit day, the first week of July. Two weeks prior, I’d come down from the summit with an inner-city group from Houston and three kids had run out of water so I gave them all of mine. I grabbed Ginger’s water bottle and started chugging before she told me that she had not purified it yet.

Two weeks to the day, I felt it stirring and had 10 seconds before I had to go. I went 55 times in 10 days and lost 14 pounds.

By the end of it, I got so sick of water and crackers, that I chugged a Coke. It shot through my system in 35 seconds and came out carbonated. In my pants. Still smelled like Coke.” 

On Our First Backpacking Trip 

"The most memorable was with you. The first time we used my water filter, we had forgotten to flush it out before using it. The first bottle was filled with purple water, black specks, and being young and dumb, I drank it. Since the system was now "flushed," your bottle was just fine. But I had to cut my man panties off and bury them in the woods. Then I stuffed my extra underwear in my pants to soak up the diarrhea that kept leaking out my butt while we hiked. Thanks for the memories!”  

The Text Message that Inspired this Post

"Me and Mary Ann went on a breakfast date this morning and stopped at the skateboard park. I skated around it once and destroyed my pants. Like an explosion of diarrhea in my jeans. I had to strip naked in a parking lot and just throw my underwear away." 

On Inadequate Wiping Opportunities

“Well not as much 'pooped the pants' but I had diarrhea at the top of the big hill at Radnor. I barely made it off the side of the trail and I dropped trousers just in time. But there was nothing good to wipe with. So I had muddy butt the rest of the hike back to my truck.”

On IBS and Possible Divine Judgment 

The following comes from a phone conversation with my friend Gilligan: “You know I have more poop in your pants stories than you could ever handle. If you ever write a second edition and it’s not in the woods, I have some amazing stories but I did poop my pants in the woods hardcore once…”

“I can’t remember what mountain I was guiding but I was with The Professor and Mr. Howell. I left them with the kids at high camp, I snuck out and hiked to the truck and drove into Buena Vista, which we're not supposed to do, and I go to K's Dairy Delite and get hamburgers and milkshakes..."

“I have IBS, I don’t know if you know this but I’m lactose intolerant and have irritable bowel syndrome and a spastic colon so that’s a good detail. And of course, I load up on ice cream and cheeseburgers and the whole deal...”

“So I’m trying to be sneaky and I’m hiking back off trail and I remember my daypack is full of burgers and I’m in the middle of nowhere, like this big field with tall grass and nothing else and I had to fart, so I just let it out and I diarrhea’d everywhere.”

"I’m in the middle of nowhere: no leaves, no toilet paper, no wipes, nothing. I wiped with clumps of grass — think about that — and then sacrificed my t-shirt. And I just left it. It was destroyed and I littered. It was not good... For me, it's the textures: my hairy legs, the runny poop, my merino socks, the clumps of grass, and the smell of burgers. I returned to high camp shirtless and covered in poop and nobody ate the burgers."

Have your own story to tell? Leave it in the comments and take full advantage of the anonymity of the internet. 

*

Like this post? Continue to support megasplitter by subscribing to the mailchimp, commenting on, and sending the posts that you like to your friends.

Coffee Political Compass

I've put a lot of thought into this but I reserve the right to be wrong about everything. 

The moka pot is authoritarian-left because it's working-class espresso. There are some rules and regulations. When the rules are followed it works and it works well. But when the rules are broken it is as brutal and unforgiving a cup as winter in the gulags.  

The Chemex is authoritarian-right but in a fun, weird, Catholic integralism kind of way. The Chemex is for people who like to control every aspect of the brewing process. There are rules but, like medieval art, when followed it renders something exquisite, meaningful, and beautiful. 

The Aeropress is libertarian-right because of the Elon Musk level of nerdy experimentation that it encourages, even if it means disastrous negative consequences. Also, it is cheap, plastic, and looks like drug paraphernalia.

The French Press is libertarian-left. It is laissez faire in its attitude toward how much coffee and how much water you put into it; you can French Press without even thinking. It is also a bland and feckless cup of coffee because, despite its best intentions, it demands nothing and therefore achieves nothing.   

Thoughts? Comments? Cries of disbelief? Leave them in the comments. 

Like this post? Continue to support megasplitter by subscribing to the mailchimp, commenting on, and sending the posts that you like to your friends.

On bikepacking, n00bs, and Confucius

photo by Gray

My quads screamed for those who could hear them. I brought only one water bottle and it was empty. My body was dehydrated, my bike was heavy, and the hills were steep. I bonked and I bonked hard. My friends were far ahead of me and I felt something I hadn't felt in years: I was a beginner again...

I’ve spent the last several years as a teacher: teaching kids how to backpack, make fires, and set camp or showing friends how to tie knots, place cams, and build anchors. My job is literally to teach students about United States Government and economics. My Enneagram type, for whatever that’s worth, is “the investigator” or some astrology-for-post-evangelicals-BS like that.

It’s true, I do like to know things. I like to be the guy explaining elections by drawing median voter hypothesis graphs on napkins at bars. I don’t like not knowing things. It makes me feel inadequate and dumb. I'm working on that particular character trait but I still don’t like being a beginner. Does anyone? The internet developed new slang for the beginner: "n00b," "newbie," "nub." We have social media accounts dedicated to making fun of surfing “kooks,” rock climbing “gumbies,” and snowboarding “jerries.” We, myself included, glaringly judge the inexperienced and the novice even though we were all, at one point, both.

I don’t know what beginning bikebackers are called but I am one. A few months ago, I went on my first S24O and I looked like an absolute goober. I had gear strapped to my basket like my bike was an 1840s prospector’s mule and I lost my Black Diamond bivy bag because of it. When my only water bottle was empty before a sustained seven-mile climb, and my entire body decided to call it quits, I felt like an absolute goober too. I felt weak, unprepared, and dumb.

I was a n00b.

Being a beginner is humbling and humility isn’t necessarily an innate characteristic. It's a virtue. And we have to be schooled in it. Humility contradicts our notions of self-esteem and self-confidence -- the ego. In the West, learning, which implies some degree of ignorance, is for establishing the learner as right or correct which is quite a static thing. In Confucianism however, humility removes obstacles that stand in the way of self-cultivation, which is much more dynamic. The learner is never finished with the learning. Confucius warns about the trap of conceit and certitude and instead appeals to the constant need for self-cultivation. Which is to say that when we admit we don’t know everything, we can learn many things. Which helps us grow individually and communally and develop a richer and more meaningful life.

My friend Reid is a runner. Last year, after my first (and only) 50K, Reid said something about how he could never do something like that but now he is. In less than a year, Reid has already run a handful of half marathons, one of Chattanooga’s premier trail races, and his eyes are set on an ultra-marathon. Every weekend, I look forward to checking Strava to see what new goal he’s crushed or PR he's set. Reid became a beginner, though it wasn’t without awkwardness or pain. Reid told me once of turning a corner at full tilt and running straight into a stop sign. But he did it and he continues to do it and that’s so dang rad.

My mom started playing guitar in her fifties and even though she was not particularly excited to play in a recital where she was four decades the senior of the other performers, she did it. Their home is filled with music now. My dad has been reading a lot of books on race and justice and political imagination and a month ago, over a family Zoom bookclub he said, with tears in his eyes, “I’m throwing out everything I ever grew up thinking.” Being a beginner is tough and humbling and sometimes even humiliating. But I think my mom, my dad, and Reid would say that their lives are better, richer, and more meaningful because they were willing to begin again.

Confucius taught that humility prepares us to practice other virtues that make life richer. I don't know where exactly bikepacking falls into all that but I think it does. When I look back at those pictures of my first S24O and my poorly packed bike and my goofy climbing helmet and the healthy dose of humble pie as I walked my bike up the monster hill to see my new friends waiting on me and I think about how much joy and meaning riding my bike in the woods has brought me this past year and I am grateful. 

In a year when so many people have retreated to the outdoors to find joy and peace of mind, there's a lot of n00bs out there. I am one of them. And so were you. So let's be gentle and celebrate those new beginnings. Confucius would.

 

 

leaving pavement

 

updating Stravas (photo by Gray)

 

 

morning views

packing up

 

camping spot

bombing hills

helping friends

Like this post? Continue to support megasplitter by subscribing to the mailchimp, commenting on, and sending the posts that you like to your friends.

2020 Favorite Things

A few of my favorite things from 2020. Because even when it's bad, it's not all bad.

Lula Mae

 

coffee outside

 
book club

 

 

our home

 
coffeeneuring

 
yard hangs

 

 

Montague Park

 
Cushvlogs

SLIFT, UMMON

 

 

Stand Your Ground: Black Bodies and the Justice of God by Kelly Brown Douglas 

 

my AP US Government and Politics class 

 
PUP the band

 

 
the Americano from Velo Coffee

 
the Guild Trail

 
this swimming hole

 

"Annie's Full Moon" 

 

that swimming hole

 

The Art of Aeropress

 
Shanina the Schwinn Adventure Bike

 
my Spiritual Formation class

 

the Lookout Mountain Adventure Loop

 

 

 
cycling caps 

 
Strava 

 

John Mark McMillan, Peopled with Dreams

 

 

and, of course, Rebecca