Bikes for Burritos – I ride bikes. I eat burritos. I document those things here.

January 27, 2020January 27, 2020

All birds are edible

I’m not sure where I heard this fact: all birds are edible.

It might have been a podcast (Stuff You Should Know? Science Friday?). It might have been the audiobookook I’m listening to (The Day it Finally Happens). But the fact rolled around in my head for a few hours or days before I was compelled to fact check it.

A lot of my friends are Eagle Scouts. A lot of my friends are long-distance backpackers, bikepackers, or libertarian-leaning, backyard-chicken-owning, fiercely independent survivalists with dreams of bunkers and bugout bags. I have friends with zombie apocalypse, civil war, nuclear winter, and various natural disaster plans. I have friends I could turn to to ask which of these mushrooms are edible and which of these will kill me. I was one of those kids who loved The Hatchet. My favorite episode of Mythbusters is the one where they strand Jaime and Adam on a desert island with nothing but a pallet of duct tape.

I know the survival drill. Three minutes without air, three hours without shelter in extreme weather, three days without water, three weeks without food. Those are best case scenario survival rates.

Every survival documentary or book I’ve ever seen talks about getting clean water and shelter and fire. And then it talks about food. They talk about watching birds and squirrels to find out which berries are poisonous in which aren’t. There’s usually a course about mushroom identification. A course about how to catch and skin and cook fish and small game.

But never, in any of these books or movies or podcasts or conversations with friends has the phrase “all birds are edible” come up.

It… couldn’t be true, right? If it was, it would be common knowledge. We all know some fish are poisonous and some frogs make you hallucinate and carnivorous mammals have meat that is tough, sinewy, and prone to parasites. And I say “we all know” in a very Lucky 10,000 way. If you just learned these things, congratulations!

But here I am, 31 years old, and just learning that all birds are edible?

I fact checked the claim.

It’s true.

Let me reiterate for emphasis: The phrase “All birds are edible” is true.

There are small number of species of bird, mostly confined to Papua New Guinea, who eat beetles or plants that are poisonous to humans. And if those birds eat enough of those poisonous beetles, and a human eats enough of those birds, the human can get sick.

But, all in all? There aren’t really any birds you absolutely cannot, should not ever eat.

And people aren’t really even allergic to chicken either. Fish and shell fish allergies are common, and we’re always told to go fishing if you’re stuck in a survival situation. But according to Wikipedia, there have been 16 documented cases of poultry allergy and 28 additional cases being investigated. Total. Ever. And most of those co-occur with egg allergies. If less than 50 people out of 7 billion are allergic to a thing, it’s pretty damn safe. But seafood allergies? I saw various estimates, but it seems like about 2% of the population has a shellfish or fish allergy. That’s 1 in 50 people. Myself included.

I get it. Fish are easier to catch than birds. But if all birds are edible, and only some fish are edible, and only some people can even eat edible fish, why aren’t survivalist guides teaching us how to catch birds?

January 23, 2020January 23, 2020

Gamification of rock climbing

My friends created a points system for gym climbing. Specifically, bouldering.

For those who don’t know, boulders at gyms and in the real world are rated by the difficulty of each climb with a “V” system. It starts at A, B, 0, 1, 2… all the way up to 17, apparently. For example, a VA is basically a ladder. A VB is something a beginner or child might climb. V0s are also beginner territory, or warm ups for intermediates. I wouldn’t say climbs start getting hard until V3. I say this because I’ve never successfully done a V3.

I’m not that good at rock climbing.

So this points system works like this: You get nothing for VA or VB. You get a half point for sending a V0, and a half point for downclimbing a V0 on color. Rainbow downs (when you down climb off-route) don’t count. You get one point for V1, two for V2, three for V3 both directions: all the way up, and all the way down.

So, if you wanted to get 10 points, you could go up and down ten V0s, or just up ten V1s, or up and down five V1s, or just up five V2s. Or just up and down one V5. Or just up one V10.

You get the idea.

Things I like about this system:

I can set a goal when I go to the gym, like 10 or 15 or 20 points.
If you’re with people, or texting people who also use this system, it’s slightly competitive (“I’m at 17 points, hbu?”).
It encourages downclimbing, which is safer than just free falling 20 feet, even with crash pads.
It encourages downclimbing, which engages different muscles than just climbing.
It rewards endurance and speed (e.g.: going up and down ten V0s or five V1s is the fastest way to get to 10 points).

Things I dislike about the system:

I always lose track of my points around 8 or 9.
It discourages projecting harder climbs, so it keeps you performing at or below your level, not above.

Something like an app seems overkill for tracking these points. Seeing points over time and distribution of how those points are achieved would be cool data, I just don’t think enough people would use such an app for it to be worth making. Something as simple as a sharpie in my chalk bag to mark my points on my forearm with tally marks could work. A notebook and pen could also do the same.

I’m not sure how to balance the points system for projecting a climb. On the one hand, it takes a lot of strength, courage, endurance, and problem solving to project a climb. The system should reward this. On the other hand, how do you know you gave it a good shot? Is three failed attempts at a V4 worth 2 points (half credit for trying)? If you failed three times then succeeded on the fourth attempt, is that 6 points (half credit for three attempts, full credit for the success)? I’m assuming if you had to project a climb, it’s tough for you and you won’t be able to downclimb it, but maybe you can (in which case this example would be 10 points). Does someone projecting a V4 take as long as someone sending and downclimbing ten v0s? And what counts as an “attempt”?

My best attempts at a V3 typically end with all four of my limbs on the wall and off the floor, if I’m lucky. But there are certainly V1s and V2s where I do the whole thing except the last hold, which is arguably more “success” but also “easier”. Do you measure success based on percent of holds touched in the attempt? So an almost-there 90% complete V1 is worth 0.9 (90% x 1) points, while getting off the ground 10% complete V3 is worth 0.3 (10% x 3)? While this certainly seems fair to me, I’m also not likely to count holds and calculate points this way. The beauty of the original system was its simplicity. It’s easy to remember (2 points for a V2).

January 8, 2020January 8, 2020

Dating is like job hunting. Or job hunting is like dating.

You’re not looking for a job. You’re happy with your current employment status, even if that means you’re unemployed. But your inbox on Indeed and Glassdoor gets an occasional message from a wayward recruiter who’s matching on keywords alone. You have Python listed in your skills, but you haven’t used it in five years for anything practical. The recruiter wants a full-time Python developer on a six month contract in a city you don’t want to live in, which is why they’re messaging you.

You’re not looking for a partner. You’re happy with your current relationships status, even if that means you’re single. But your inbox on Instagram and Twitter gets an occasional message from a wayward suitor who’s matching on looks alone. You have Skyrim listed as an interest, but you haven’t played in five years for longer than an hour or two. The suitor wants a summer fling or maybe something more in a part of town that you never go to, which is why they’re messaging you.

You’re not exactly looking for a job, but you’re not exactly happy in your current one either. Suddenly, a recruiter pings you on LinkedIn. A top three company in your field. A job description that actually suits your skills and interests. Pay that meets or exceeds your current salary. It can’t hurt to talk to them, right? But a sense of loyalty to your employer wracks you with guilt. You like some of your coworkers, after all, and you wouldn’t see them as much if you left. And learning a different company’s email system seems exhausting. Still, though. Being headhunted like this gives you a boost of confidence. Clearly this recruiter sees your worth, even if your boss doesn’t.

You’re not exactly looking for a partner, but you’re not exactly happy with your current relationship status either. Suddenly, a suitor pings you on Facebook. A rockin’ bod and in your neighborhood. A personality that actually suits your lifestyle and interests. A sense of ambition that’s greater than your current beau’s. It can’t hurt to talk to them, right? But a sense of loyalty to your partner wracks you with guilt. You like some of their friends, after all, and you wouldn’t see them as much if you left. And learning a different partner’s kinks and love languages seems exhausting. Still, though. Being hit on like this gives you a boost of confidence. Clearly this person sees your hotness, even if your partner doesn’t.

You’re looking for a new job. Your current job is fine, but doesn’t spark the passion it did two years ago when you joined the company. You feel stuck. Where’s this career path even going? Will you ever get promoted? You clean up your LinkedIn profile. Get a new headshot. Update your skills. Take an online certification or two. Start networking. Asking your friends if their companies are hiring. Sending applications into the void. Hoping. Waiting.

You’re looking for a new partner. Your current partner is fine, but doesn’t spark the passion they did two years ago when you first hooked up. You feel stuck. Where’s this relationship even going? Will you ever get married? You clean up your Tinder profile. Get a new headshot. Update your interests. Take an gym class or two. Start networking. Asking your friends if their friends or siblings are single. Sending OKcupid messages into the void. Hoping. Waiting.

You’re getting ready for an interview. You stalk the company and the recruiter and the hiring manager on social media. You dress to cater to their tastes. You’re nervous to make a good first impression. You actually study for the interview, which you never used to do.

You’re getting ready for an date. You stalk the suitor and their friends and their siblings on social media. You dress to cater to their tastes. You’re nervous to make a good first impression. You actually do your hair for the date, which you never used to do.

You come home from the interview. You start to regret some of the things you said. They weren’t authentically you. You didn’t really see yourself at that company five years from now. Why did you lie? You’re not really an expert in SQL; you learned it last night from YouTube. Why did you lie? You don’t normally dress in a button down and slacks. Why did you lie?

You come home from the date. You start to regret some of the things you said. They weren’t authentically you. You didn’t really see yourself with kids five years from now. Why did you lie? You’re not really that into craft beer; you learned about it last night from YouTube. Why did you lie? You don’t normally dress in heels. Why did you lie?

December 10, 2019December 10, 2019

Singular they

Discussing singular “they” at work, now that it’s the word of the year.

Coworker: I can’t even remember your name, how am I supposed to remember your preferred pronouns? Is it rude if I call someone he or she now?

Me: Well, no. It’s like you had a teacher, Mr. Smith. And then you graduated high school, and you said “Hey Mr. Smith!” And he said “Oh please, call me Bob.” You calling him Mr. Smith just then wasn’t necessarily rude, but if you continued to call him Mr. Smith and not Bob after he asked you to call him Bob, that’d be rude.

Coworker: Yeah, that makes sense.

Me: So if you had a friend John, and you said “so John, he’s my friend” and John said “oh, my preferred pronouns are they/them now”, you making the mistake of using “he” wasn’t necessarily wrong or rude. But if you continued to use he/him now that they asked you to use they/them, that would be rude.

Coworker: wow that’s a great example.

It’s that easy, folx.

April 16, 2019April 12, 2019

I watched Free Solo on a plane

Free Solo was available on my flight home from Boston last week. I might not have watched it if I wasn’t held captive for six hours, but it was pretty good.

If you don’t know who Alex Honnold is, he’s a super famous rock climber and bike enthusiast.

Some thoughts I had while watching the movie:

Holy shit, this makes me so nervous I need chalk to just watch this, my hands are so sweaty.
I don’t know if the movie was just edited this way, but his girlfriend seems like a bitch and he needs a more supportive woman in his life.
Oh hey that’s my gym! Yay Sacramento Pipeworks!

Honestly, I don’t climb outdoors. I’ve tried, twice. The problem with outdoor climbing is if you fall, you fall onto rock, and if you get injured you’re somewhere with no cell reception that’s miles and miles from the nearest hospital. With indoor climbing, you still get the benefits of being social and building strength but with mitigated risks like padded floors and hospitals that are mere blocks away.

All that said, I just don’t understand indoor cyclists or treadmill runners. I’m sure they would tell me how dangerous it is to cycle or run on the road with cars. And I’d probably tell them that connecting with my environment and being able to travel over an expanse of land under my own power is incredibly satisfying. And I’m sure outdoor climbers would probably tell me the same thing about climbing.

We all take risks for our hobbies, I guess.

April 14, 2019April 12, 2019

Rebounding with a broken tandem

Let me set the scene: you’re me. You’re the kind of person who has this polyamory joke as one of her Tinder pictures:

Heh.

So, anyway, you’re me. You’re on tinder. You match with someone who checks all your boxes: smart, funny, athletic, polyamorous, the works. Things are going well until they pull the classic “we’re better off as friends” line.

Oof. Gut punch.

So, naturally, now you need a rebound. Except, instead of finding a one-night-stand on Tinder, you impulsively buy a tandem bicycle. A broken tandem bicycle. I’m sure there’s some symbolism here about desperate rebounds being broken. I’ll also point out that a tandem bicycle needs a second rider, which is also probably some sort of metaphor about polyamory

Anyway, I patched her up and gave her a bath and now I just need to name her and find someone who will ride her with me. Which I guess will send me back to tinder.

April 12, 2019April 12, 2019

How long have you been doing this?

I get asked these kinds of questions a lot:

How long have you been doing such-and-such hobby?
How long have you been dating so-and-so?
How long have you worked at whatsamacallit?

I always feel uncomfortable and inauthentic answering these questions.

My first job was a hostess at a breakfast diner. I got up extra early to pour coffee, hand out menus, and bus dishes.

My resume no longer has that job listed, but when it did, you’d see I had worked there for almost two years: from July 2004 to October 2005, and again from June 2007 to September 2007.

From 2004 to 2005, I worked just 10-16 hours a week (only on weekends) on a rotating weekly schedule where I had every fourth weekend off. In summer 2007, I worked a more traditional 35-40 hour work week, but my weekends were something like Wednesdays and Thursdays, I think.

Napkin math: I probably worked somewhere between 1,200 and 1,400 hours total at that job.

Someone who works full-time at a job for two years and takes two week vacations every year works 4,000 hours.

Why should my resume boast nearly two years of work experience, when I worked less than a third of full-time? Conversely, had I worked overtime, why should my resume boast N years of work if I worked N*1.5 of full-time?

I think about this with hobbies too. When people ask me how long I’ve been rock climbing or doing acroyoga or making mead, what they want to hear is “about three years” or “about two years” or “about a year and a half” (respectively). But inside I’m screaming, because this feels like a deception. I don’t rock climb or do acroyoga or make mead most weeks.

Sure, I first learned to climb and bought the gear about three years ago. And some weeks I might climb two or three times. But some months I might not climb at all. I am certainly a worse climber than someone who has been climbing four times a week for three or four months, because that person has put in more hours than I have.

Some people ask things like “how long have you been rock climbing?” as polite conversation, but some use it as a way to gauge relative skill or dedication, just like with a resume. Do not expect me to send a 5.12b or even a 5.11c or to be able to lead climb just because I’ve been doing this for three years. Because I can’t (yet).

Years is a terrible way to approximate skill.

And you know what? Years is a terrible way to measure relationships too. I’ve had whirlwind romances that last two weeks where we see each other nearly every day. And I’ve had slow-burning long-distance relationships where we see each other every other month. Sure, texting and video chat and such fills in the gaps and the longer relationship does represent something more dedicated. But as far as physical time spent together, those two relationships might be about equal.

They say it takes 10,000 hours to master a skill. That’s been debunked, but still. Hours spent is clearly a much better indicator than months or years. Should I say I’ve been a science fair judge for five years, just because I’ve done it every year for five years? Or should I say I’ve been a science fair judge for about 25 hours, since that’s about how much time I’ve actually spent judging science fair projects?

Maybe keeping track of hours is hard. I can remember the month and year I learned to make mead (August 2017), but I can’t remember exactly how many hours I’ve spent on the hobby since (napkin math: about 80 to 100).

But maybe we can use some other metric besides months and years? I’d much prefer questions like:

How often do you climb?
What do you do at your job?
Where in the relationship escalator are you?

These are much more interesting questions than the ones at the start of this post, and I think get at the core of what people are really trying to get after when they ask How long questions.

March 31, 2019April 1, 2019

The venn diagram of polyamorists, circus artists, D&D players, techies, and burners is a circle

Whenever I travel, I type acroyoga and the name of the city I’m going to into Facebook and find the local crew. It’s basically a guaranteed workout and new friends, which is what everyone needs when they travel!

I added a few acroyogis I played with on Facebook after the Boston jam and, unsurprisingly, we had many mutual friends already. But when I saw a non-acroyogi among our mutual friends, I had to ask:

Me: How do you know so-and-so?
Them: Burner things, probably.
Me: Ah, yeah. I was just explaining to a friend that the venn diagram of polyamorists, acroyogis, D&D players, and burners is a circle.
Them: Hahaha, 3/4 for me!
Me: 3/4 for me too. It’s not a perfect circle.

I’m not the first to point this out, either. Kimchi Cuddles has a comic about polyamorists playing D&D and Click Hole ran an article pointing out that table top board games, circus arts, tech jobs, and burner parties are how one couple is expanding the size of their polycule.

I think for people not in these communities, they seem like wildly unrelated hobbies. But for those of us within these communities, this makes sense.

Acroyoga requires a lot of knowledge about your own boundaries, strengths, weaknesses, and navigating consent with other humans. The acro community is really good about asking if you want to play, asking what your pronouns are, and trusting strangers with our bodies. It’s all about teamwork so we can become stronger and lift each other up.

Table top RPGs like Dungeons & Dragons require teamwork and communication too. Players tend to be creative, using the game as an outlet for everything from music, voice acting, painting, sculpture, writing, graphic design, drawing… the list goes on. At its core, D&D is a collaborative storytelling game and players have to work together to solve hard problems.

High tech work requires a certain amount of critical thinking, large scale collaborative team work (just think about the internet as a technological achievement!), and imagination. Many techies are interested in science fiction and work to create their scifi dreams into reality. This includes utopian collaborative socialist societies like Star Trek and the polyamorist anarchist rebellions of The Moon is a Harsh Mistress.

Polyamory requires, above all else, communication. You have to realize that you’re on the same team as your metamours (your partners’ other partners) and not competing with them. You have to juggle schedules and solve problems and work well with others, understanding their boundaries and consent…

Are you sensing a theme?

I’m not a burner, so I can’t really speak to that community. But if you’re the kind of person who is self-sufficient enough to survive in the desert for a week while eschewing societal norms like money, leaving behind societal norms like monogamy isn’t too hard. My understanding is that the people at Burning Man are generally collaborative and empathetic humans who help each other survive the harsh desert conditions.

March 29, 2019March 28, 2019

I started writing and fell down a rabbit hole of math

I started drafting a blog post that really needed a visual aid. So I followed the advice of my high school stats teacher: when you don’t understand a problem, draw a picture.

I pulled up the art app on my tablet and drew this:

It seemed like a reasonable four circle venn diagram. Except when I started labeling it, I realized I needed the pink and the blue to overlap with just each other and not grey or yellow.

So I redrew it.

And then I figured the jetlag was setting in because no matter how I drew it, I couldn’t make the circles overlap right.

So I decided to just google four circle venn diagram and steal someone else’s pretty graph off the internet and re-purpose it.

Except when I googled it, I found out that you can’t make a four part venn diagram with circles!!

Apparently this is because circles can only intersect in at most two points. But you can make venn diagrams for sets N>3 with other shapes like ellipses.

Mind. Blown.

March 28, 2019March 28, 2019

How (and why) to make a ghost bike (and why I hope I never have to)

I was walking along Massachusetts Avenue (or Mass Ave as the locals call it) when I saw this ghost bike.

A lot of non-cyclists don’t know about ghost bikes, but you’ve almost certainly seen one before. When a cyclist dies on their bike, their cyclist friends will create a ghost bike.

Here’s how:

Recover the dead cyclist’s bike (if it’s recoverable from the accident) or obtain another cheap bike.
Spray paint it white. Everything. The spokes, the gears, the chain, the tires. It’s all gotta be white. This makes the bike unusable, so it probably won’t be stolen.
Chain it to a fence, pole, or some other immovable object at or near the site of the cyclist’s death.
(Optional). Add flowers, candles, etc. to the basket or ground around the ghost bike per your mourning customs.

Ghost bikes serve as a memorial for the victim’s friends and family and a warning to living cyclists of dangerous intersections or stretches of rural roads.

I never like seeing ghost bikes (someone died!) but I do appreciate their existence. It’s nice to be part of a community that has rituals like this.