The Ball Drop

I'm dropping balls right and left. I had to ask for an extension on a piece of writing. I've sort of ghosted another project. I had to back out of last weekend's triathlon. I missed the last two classes of the "Fighting the Broligarchy" class. I have a bunch of emails in my inbox that really need to be answered. Such is the very inauspicious beginning to Week 3 of my marathon training. I've barely begun; I'm already falling behind.

Or, at least, I feel like I am falling behind, or falling off, or just plain falling. Failing.

But I'm not sure that's entirely true. "I feel like" -- that phrase convinces us of so much before we wield it to convince others in turn; the trick of individualization and "therapy speak" shot back into our self-perception. "I feel like" easily trumps "it is." "I feel like," much like the customer, is always right, even as it's always partial -- partially true or partially false, doesn't matter.

I feel like maybe I should learn how to say "no" to more things. Or let's do one better: I should definitely learn how to say "no."

But hey, if nothing else, the marathon training is going really well so far, and the hours I'm spending running are (strangely) the most relaxing part of my week. (15 weeks, 6 days to go 'til the race.) My long run this weekend was just 10 miles, but with 5 of those at "marathon pace" -- or what my very optimistic coach believes I'll be able to run for 26.2. And wow! I did it! (It didn't feel "comfortable" but not did it feel unbearable or out-of-reach.) Then, after those 5, I ran 2 more at threshold pace -- even faster. It's all a nice boost to my confidence, as, if I'm honest, the marathon will surely be as much a psychological challenge as a physical one.

As hard as training the body is, I cringe more at the idea of training my brain for this. Weird. (But not really that weird.)

A complaint about marathon training, as seen in a running forum on Reddit, that really captures this moment [waves hands around] quite succinctly: "There's gotta be some way to be adequately trained for this thing without making any sort of sacrifice in my personal life."

I have a note in my long list of things to write about that reads: "What hard things do we expect to have to do?"

I mean that question in light of "AI" for sure. But I also mean that in terms of the kinds of things that social media and social pressures have turned into social expectations, that have made something like running a marathon feel like (there's that damn phrase again) a bucket-list item, made it seem almost obligatory.

"There's gotta be some way to be adequately trained for this thing without making any sort of sacrifice in my personal life." What an incredible thing to say.

Burger League took us to Le B. on Monday evening, a restaurant that offers a $62 burger made with 45-day aged prime rib and d'afinois cheese. I mean, our Burger League membership cost us $250, and each time we dine out -- we're headed to Loring Place tonight -- we get two burgers for free. So, looking at the price tag on those Le B. Burgers helps remind me that that rather spendy membership fee's actually been a ridiculously good deal.

But whether we were paying directly or indirectly, I don't think the Le B. Burger is worth $62. Sorry. (Not sorry.) It was a good burger, don't get me wrong. And it came with a goldfish bowl full of shoestring fries, which were delightful. But I definitely won't go back to this place, partly because my dessert sucked, partly because the waiter sneered when I asked if they had a non-alcoholic beer, and partly because, you know, $62 burger. LOL.

On Saturday, we ate at Giardino 54, our neighborhood Italian restaurant. Kin ordered the gnocchi with Gorgonzola sauce, and I felt like I'd be a copycat to also get the gnocchi (I'd have had mine with bolognese), so I got the seafood pasta special, which was one of those meals you can tell the kitchen has put together lovingly but with leftover pasta dough. I wasn't mad -- it was an absolutely huge platter of food. Kin ordered tiramisu, but I didn't have any. It's one of those desserts that sometimes trigger my "ewww, mushy food" reflexes. And on Saturday, it looked "ewww, mushy."

Tom Holland's lip sync to "Umbrella" is my Roman Empire. It's also apparently a lesson in environmental engineering, so that's nice.

This was a hard read. This was a hopeful read.

Kin and I are about halfway through Caroline Fraser's Murderland (and I've made a note to read her biography of Laura Ingalls Wilder). I'm also listening to John Green's Everything is Tuberculosis, which I am almost done with and only just realized (as he mentions it) that he’s also the author of The Fault in Our Stars. (I haven’t read any of his other stuff, and as I type this am also realizing that — aha — he is the brother of Hank Green, isn’t he. Another person from the Internet whose name I know but that’s about it…)

You can consume a lot of audio content while training for a marathon, that's for sure. But not enough pop culture to be conversant about the Green brothers. (You can consume a lot of audio content, but you cannot get a lot of writing done. Unless you’re Murakami maybe.)

I'm supposedly re-reading Joseph Weizenbaum's Computer Power and Human Reason but I’m not making much progress — it’s not an audiobook — and I've picked up the second book in a YA series by Charlie Jane Anders instead. I'm not sure it's entirely an escape -- it's SF, sure, but book deals with fascism, eugenics, and genocide. But it feels like an escape. More than a John Green YA book would, I reckon.

I spend so much time/energy writing about AI for Second Breakfast -- obligatory links to Friday's newsletter, today's newsletter -- that I don't really know what to do with the health and wellness technology stories that I'm tracking on. (I did manage to incorporate a book review of No More Tears: The Dark Secrets of Johnson & Johnson into today's essay, so I guess I sort of what I need to do to link some of these ideas. No single industry holds a monopoly on shitty practices -- not in health, not in education.)

Like this story in The Cut: "Can RFK Jr. Track My Oura Ring?" I mean, even just a decade ago, folks would have argued that this is all hyperbole. It's paranoia to argue that the government cares about the data from your wearables. But now? Yikes. Period tracking data seems to already be information that could put women in danger. And when I hear any politician tout "personal responsibility," I do know they're going to be looking for data with which to punish those they deem irresponsible.

As in education, much of this data -- the stuff that's gathered and tracked by fitness watches and the like -- isn't good. It's not accurate. It's not reliable. And yet we're building both personal routines and perhaps now political policy on top of it.

There's this sneering response to educators who are refusing "AI" -- something like "what are you going to do? Take away their Internet?"

And okay, I'll bite. Sure. Let's do that. (Particularly now that the "AI" oligarchs have decided they want to create "AI" web browsers and run all Internet access through their bullshit machine.)

Whatever will we do without the ability to look up the name of the lead singer of Fine Young Cannibals, or the name of that one familiar looking actor in the crappy movie you're streaming on Netflix, or check the menu before we go to a restaurant? Oh, you use the Internet for important stuff? I see. Like sharing memes and shopping? Cool cool.

Funny how the "'AI' will force us to re-imagine education" people can only imagine a world full of bytes and pixels and total subservience to Internet advertising, and act like the people who respond to all this slop with a nice "no thank you" are the ones putting the survival of the planet at risk.

"How will children learn without the Internet?" they scream into the loudspeaker.

Sir, this is a Wendy's.

Not only do I never use “AI” to write, I don’t proofread at all.

Yours in struggle,
~Audrey