My phone pinged and my family text strand had a notification.
"Dad, Ashley is coming for your title!"
And, then this picture popped up:
I texted back, "Wow. Only amazingly fit people can achieve that. Nice work, Ashley!"
Then, my son-in-law texted, "You've got to be kidding me." And sent this picture.
"Not everyone can be perfect," I texted back. "Nice try though."
And so it goes.
Our family, spread across the globe, is more connected than ever by Garmin and Strava. Our group is relatively small — wife, kids, brothers, sisters, brothers-in-law, sisters-in-law.
The immediate family — wife and kids — text regularly, bragging about sleep scores, HRV status, VO2 max, training readiness, and whatever else their watch tells them they're doing well.
Our whole family connects on Strava using photos and comments to brag, tease, or share.
Even our dog, Snickerdoodle, has an account — managed by one of my daughters. Whoever takes Snicks out adds him to their activity. My daughter approves it — and the rest of us make sure he gets his kudos. Weird. I know. But fun.
Skiing and chatting with Snicks as we log another Strava activity. He got more kudos.
I hate to admit it, but part of my cooldown now involves updating my Strava. I find myself finishing an activity, turning the car on, queuing up a music playlist, and sitting in the front seat, adding a photo and a comment to my post and sending it on its way.
My "cooldown" doesn't end there. I take a moment to scroll through and give kudos to all the stuff my friends and family have done since my last post. I'm always amazed at the activity from such a small group. And, more tellingly, how connected I feel to them seeing what they did that day.
As I scroll and give out kudos, I see my daughter in Boise went mountain biking with her dog and smile at the picture of her happy face snuggling with her dog somewhere in the foothills, the whole city spread out behind her.
Then, I see my brother-in-law out in San Francisco made it to work on his bike again. As usual, he posted a random picture from the ride and a note about the experience. My sister-in-law got a mountain bike ride in — on the same trail we hiked together last time I was in Colorado.
And on it goes. Without actually communicating, I get a warm fuzzy feeling seeing my son in Ohio just finished lifting weights in his garage with my granddaughter helping him. I pause to envision the scene, smiling at how hard it must be to work out with a toddler getting into everything.
I notice the boys I met on a Western Spirit mountain bike tour in Utah are back at it — running and riding in Washington, D.C. My brother-in-law and his wife in southern California went on a nice tandem bike ride. Apparently, the weather is amazing there today.
The last new post is from a friend here in town. He hiked and skied something I've never done. Interesting.
I punch his number into the phone.
"Ben!"
"Hey, Rodney."
"Yo, I saw you skied over by Boulder today. How was it?"
"Top 1,000 feet were great, but the bottom is a bit sketch. I'd say it's still worth it though."
We chatted for a few minutes longer and, when we hung up, I had plans to check out his route.
Payette Lake at sunset - just beautiful.
I think that's the thing that amazes me about an app that can sometimes be problematic. For me, it drives connection. I wasn't considering calling Ben until I saw his ski tour. And now we've connected.
This same thing has happened over and over again. Something in somebody's day sparks me to make a call, drop a text, or post a comment. The process makes me feel like I know what the lives of the people I love look like. And that makes me happy — ridiculously happy.
In any event, here's hoping this weekend is full of POW and maybe a little good-natured trash talk between you and the ones you love. Have a great weekend!
