Marriage Hacks - When Love Isn’t Enough

Introduction

Right off the bat, this post doesn’t really provide hacks per se. I was just trying to get your attention. Also, the point of “when love isn’t enough” isn’t a critique of your, my, or any marriage. In my opinion, love alone is never enough. That’s kind of my whole point.

This post is about what I’ve learned during 31 years of marriage. My cred in offering any kind of advice is based on a) my wife actually having suggested this post, which indicates she doesn’t consider me a total disaster as a husband, and b) the probability that if you asked my kids about the state of my marriage, they wouldn’t burst out laughing or stalk away glowering and/or muttering “no comment.” If you are humble enough to think you might learn something from me, read on. This might be a good post if you’re a young person contemplating marriage, a married person looking to glean some tips, a single person looking to bask in all the work you don’t have to do, or a bored person stuck in a long line.

A few caveats

Before we begin, here are a few disclaimers. First, I’m not going to provide any advice about how to find love, learn to love, or fall in love. I honestly don’t know how any of that works, having (long ago) stumbled into it by accident. (The closest posts to that topic which you’ll find on albertnet are here and here, or for a nice crash-and-burn story, here.) If you’re a frustrated single person wondering why I am making no attempt to address your situation, please accept my apologies that albertnet can’t be everything to everybody (though many of my posts are perfect for singles, like this one, this one, and this one).

Second caveat: I’m not a marriage counselor, I have no formal training, I’m not even an Internet influencer, and this blog has no Service Level Agreements. If you’ve ever asked a neighbor for tips on cleaning your barbecue grill, that’s the spirit you should bring to reading this post.

Finally, if you’re married or otherwise attached to a narcissist, psycho, jerk, or hopelessly selfish person, you need more advice than I could possibly offer and I recommend seeking professional help (counselor, lawyer, or assassin). (Yes, that last bit was a joke.) This post is about maintaining and/or improving a solid marriage, not fixing a broken one.

Hack #1: know what you’re in for

I think the Romance Industrial Complex has done a great disservice to the institution of marriage. Rom-coms always end when the cute guy and the cute girl finally stop with the combative high jinks, realize they’re actually in love, and kiss. If the movie kept going, it would morph into something between a boring documentary and a tense police procedural. I’m not saying marriage doesn’t have its high points, but it involves a lot more work than going on a date. You want proof? Imagine a meet-cute scenario ending in the proposal, “Would you like to get together this weekend and clean out my garage?” 

A marriage is like running a business, running a hotel, and sometimes running a war room. If kids are involved, it’s like running a daycare, a boarding school, and maybe even a prison. You and your spouse aren’t just maintaining a marriage, you’re also conducting your own adult lives, but in tandem. I mean, you’re tackling all the financial, emotional, logistical, and health-related issues everyone has to face, but in cooperation with another person whose challenges—and strategies—overlap with your own to a greater or lesser degree. This can be a big help, but it’s also hard to orchestrate. Your partner’s values, decisions, and behavior are directly tied to just about every important aspect of your adult life.

Here’s an analogy: suppose you love cycling, because of the scenery, the exercise, and the speed. If you fly to France and rent a bike from a chichi tour outfit (as I once got to do), you get all the enjoyment without much hassle. You might descend an Alpine pass in a downpour and wear down your rental’s brake pads, get its drivetrain filthy, etc. and then all you have to do is give the bike over to the mechanic at the end of the day, and when you set out again the next morning it’ll be good as new. That’s a lot like going a date … no wonder new love is so awesome! You’re on a weekend getaway where other people are cooking and cleaning for you … you might even have a whole orchestra playing for you so you don’t have to talk! But dating doesn’t “scale,” as the business people would put it.

Getting back to the bike analogy, if you love cycling enough to drop a few grand on a racing bike, you’re going to have to maintain that bike yourself. If you don’t service the drivetrain regularly, the chain and cassette cogs will stop working so well, make a lot of noise, and wear out too soon. If you keep ignoring this maintenance, the chain may eventually break, likely while under heavy load, meaning you could crash. If you don’t inspect the tires often enough, you could have a sudden blowout. So you need to learn how to clean and lube your drivetrain, ideally how to mount tubeless tires with that messy goo, and how to inspect everything for wear and tear, and none of this bears any resemblance to enjoying scenery and speed, getting fresh air and exercise, and everything else that drew you to the sport in the first place. But if you want to be able to enjoy the ride, you have to put up with the maintenance.

So it is with marriage: you’re constantly communicating with your partner, mending fences when you disappoint each other, looking to make sure one another’s needs are met, and deciding together how to handle important decisions. The initial attraction, with its spirit of fun, chemistry, and romance may have gotten you here, but it’s a whole other skill set you need to develop to keep the marriage running. Resign yourself to this reality, commit to it, understand that the effort is well worth it, and be grateful that you have a marriage worth maintaining.

Hack #2: get help

Here’s a pretty typical sob story: boy meets girl, they date, they marry, they encounter the inevitable challenges of marriage, they wing it, they do what comes naturally (e.g., indulge in selfishness), that doesn’t work, they fight, they grow apart, they divorce. I’ve had front-row seats for this four times (that being the number of divorces across my two parents). That scenario played out with my wife’s parents as well. In fact I’m sure it happens all the time. Perfectly reasonable people fall in love, marry, wing it, and fall short.

I’m not saying everyone needs marriage counseling. That can become necessary after too much neglect, if things are starting to break down, but it’s never too early to get non-professional help, whether it’s from friends, families, books, articles, whatever. I love the idea of the Catholic Pre-Cana consultation, where a priest or other official reaches out to an engaged couple and leads them through a workshop on communication, conflict resolution, finances, intimacy, and family planning before the marriage even starts. (If I have any of that wrong, I still love the idea as I’ve represented it, whether anybody practices it or not.) I talk about marriage with my friends, and it’s not all just grousing. And I read books and articles about it, and talk to my wife about it, and just generally take marriage seriously as a difficult discipline that requires a lot of skill and effort. This is as sensible to me as watching a YouTube video about how to bleed the hydraulic brakes on my bike. And if life throws a hard enough curve ball, I’m happy to get marriage counseling, just like I’ll take my bike to a shop to have the shock-absorbing fork rebuilt from time to time.

Hack #3: hone your communication

Continuing the thread about doing what comes naturally, consider this quote from the writer Lore Segal (taken from a telegram sent by a character in her novel Her First American):

PROTOCOL IS THE ART OF NOT REPEAT NOT LIVING BY NATURAL HUMAN FEELING

The romantic ideal tells us that love—that most fundamental of natural human feelings—is enough. But humans can be complicated, unreliable, and self-interested, none of which is very romantic or conducive to marital tranquility. When we do screw up, most of the time it’s communication, not action, that helps us make amends. Sure, if you drop a vase on the floor you can just sweep up the shards and, if needed, replace the vase. But if you accidently hurt your partner’s feelings, things are more complicated. You have to understand his or her feelings; understand your role in them; understand what else may be contributing (e.g., your partner’s past and any triggers or hang-ups that might introduce); understand what your partner needs; and figure out how to provide that. This can be very difficult when we’re stubborn, confused, defensive, and/or our own feelings are also hurt. Often times this leads to a fight. Marital arguments, I think, can be the most charged ones we face, because with friends or colleagues there’s not so much passion involved, and you don’t have to go to bed with the person that night, and wake up with him or her the next day. With marriage, everything is at stake, or so it feels.

Saying the wrong thing is only one kind of miscommunication. Biting your tongue too often or otherwise failing to communicate is another. Or, saying the right thing wrong, and/or at the wrong time. Communication can be a minefield, which makes it a prominent use case for getting help, and not waiting until you’re in the thick of a crisis to do so. I’m talking about making a habit of reading about relationships, whether it’s fiction, self-help books, advice articles … whatever you come across. Be like a decorator crab scuttling along the ocean floor keeping an eye out for anything that might be a handy accoutrement.

Case in point: I came across this New York Times article, “8 Phrases to Help Your Relationship Thrive,” and found it well worth reading. In case you don’t subscribe to the Times and have exhausted your pay-wall freebies, the phrases tend to deal with either the struggle to conduct the argument constructively (e.g., “Can we slow down?” and “Let me try that again”) or a shift in perspective (e.g., “What does the relationship need from us right now?”). Reading the article reminded me of conversations I’ve had with my wife around the art of marital dialogue, so I emailed her the link. Imagine my surprise when she misconstrued the purpose of my email and thought I was hinting at ways she could improve. In her defense, it probably wasn’t wise of me to title the email, “Read it and weep, bitch!”

No, of course I didn’t do that. Just making sure you’re awake. But the reality is, communication can be hard no matter how much you practice, and how skillful a communicator you normally are, or how good your intentions are. Part of the problem is that you cannot always (or even usually) predict the brain space your spouse/other may be in when you decide to communicate.

I want to get back to the concept of protocol now. I think computer networks make a great analogy here—so bear with me when this gets a bit arcane. You’re reading this blog right now thanks to the work of countless nerds designing electronic communication protocols: HTTP, TLS, HTML, and TCP, to name a few. In a perfect world, we wouldn’t need a security protocol like TLS any more than we’d need bike locks. But TCP—Transmission Control Protocol—is instrumental in making the Internet work. It basically achieves, on a network level, what several of the Times article’s eight phrases do. It makes sure the communication works properly, even when network conditions are poor (e.g., in cases of a weak or congested connection).

You may be wondering why I dragged you through all that. Here’s the point: TCP does a great job of handling poor conditions. Its operation is perfectly logical and consistent. It adapts to  congestion or noise by dynamically slowing down the communication, such as by negotiating a smaller “window size” (i.e., telling the other device, “I can accept up to X bytes of data before you must stop and wait for an ACK”). The worse the connection gets, the more steps TCP takes to make sure data isn’t corrupted, to the point that this protocol almost never fails (though it may slow the network down if, say, you’re on WiFi in the kitchen and the microwave is running). In this way, TCP is basically the opposite of how humans communicate.

How’s that? Well, when we get upset, and feel attacked, we can often have a fight-or-flight reaction, because as sophisticated as our brains are, they don’t differentiate between threats to our life and threats to, say, our sense of self. If things get sufficiently heated, our “lizard brains” take over in what’s called “limbic override” such that logic, sensitivity, and consideration go right out the window. This is how marital spats can turn so nasty, and if they lead to residual resentment, the next fight is bound to be worse, and if this persists the relationship can be irreparably damaged.

This is why we need to learn about communication, think hard about it, work hard at it, and respect it. It’s the best tool we have but handling it well during duress does not come naturally. It takes practice, forethought, and dedication. Find your inner TCP.

Hack #4: be humble

When I advise “be humble” I’m not referring to the simple act of not bragging even when you could. I’m talking about putting your relationship before your ego. Most people wouldn’t admit to putting their egos first, but lots of people do it as a reflex.

Perhaps this started with David Letterman. I liked his show back in the ‘80s, found him funny, and I suppose let his arch, sarcastic, and reckless style influence my own behavior. It was all very mimetic: I didn’t just want to watch his show and laugh at his wisecracks; I wanted to be ironic and cool, like him. In my defense, I was just a dumb teenager, and had very little to lose. My friends were just as enamored with acerbic wit as I was, and on some level we probably all know it was a pose. But it became a habit, and not just for us. I think society started to be snide. It’s like everybody was afraid to be earnest.

You can see this reflected in advertisements. They used to tout the benefits of a product, like this typewriter ad:

When’s the last time you saw an ad that straightforward and sincere? Modern ads consider product features and benefits to be beside the point; instead, the point is how cool you will be if you use the product. With this mimetic yearning and forced nonchalance so prevalent in the culture, perhaps it’s inevitable to see people being too cool to read self-help books or articles, like they’re just so far above it.

I suppose I should back that up. On a hunch, I sifted through the reader comments to the Times article on useful relationship phrases. Needless to say I found a bunch of snotty, dismissive ones, such as these three:

Twice we’ve had to waste hundreds of dollars paying a referee (sorry, counselor) when she folded her arms and wouldn’t talk anymore. When did people get so weak that they can’t deal with a little stumbling around in a conversation while working things out?

This pablum is one of the reasons why “couples therapy” and “marriage counseling” are expensive wastes of time.

Frankly I’d laugh if my wife said this—or most of this jargon—to me.

How would you like to be married to one of these guys? Sure, they probably seemed really cool during the courting period, but they don’t seem to take delicate communication very seriously. That first guy, by his own admission, didn’t get a very positive reaction from his wife and I can see why. But even if we assume these assholes’ marriages are fine, and that their attitudes and practices work just fine for them and their wives, why do they take the trouble to pooh-pooh the Times article with their snide comments, despite the fact so many other readers have left largely positive comments? My guess: these blowhards are just too weak and insecure to admit they could improve, and have some perennial need to showcase their coolness to the world.

Now, don’t get me wrong, I’m not Doogie Howser, and still enjoy making wisecracks (though the sarcasm of my youth has generally softened to facetiousness). Much of my communication with my wife is lighthearted, flippant, and unguarded. I get it that not all conversation needs to be mired in complex protocol. (To continue the network analogy, not everything is TCP; plenty of Internet data is sent using the lighter-weight UDP protocol which is best-effort. Thus, when I’m pattering away to my wife about bike rides or beer or whatever, I mark my packets discard-eligible and set the window size to infinity.) But my point is, a responsible marriage partner needs to be willing to be earnest, and to risk seeming uncool. Particularly in times of duress, when it’s tempting to be dismissive, being sincere instead of cavalier doesn’t only serve the dialogue, but it’s an important gesture in and of itself.

My wife and I took great pains to impress all this upon our kids when they were teenagers (i.e., at the age where everything is stupid and unnecessary and annoying). Obviously our daughters had front row seats to our own arguments from time to time, but beyond that we resorted to old-fashioned instruction. My wife found this great book, Crucial Conversations – Tools for Talking When Stakes Are High, and for what felt like at least a year, she’d bring it out at least once a week at the dinner table after the dishes were cleared away (by our kids, I might add) but before everybody scattered. We’d make the kids take turns reading passages aloud, and then we’d all discuss them. This went over about as well as serving lentils at a wedding. You’ve never seen so much eye-rolling or heard so much groaning. Our girls absolutely hated this family tradition, and to make matters worse, they couldn’t resist citing their sister’s gaffs and missteps as case studies in our discussions. This frequently led to heated battles and mutual character assassination, fanning the fires of the sibling rivalry that smolders in every family. It was almost a mockery of the skills my wife and I were trying to instill, but I have to believe some of the lessons were at least partially absorbed, and—most importantly—through this practice we modeled earnestness and sincerity. If you asked either daughter if her parents take communication seriously, I’m sure she’d say yes. And it hasn’t escaped their notice that we fight fair, both with each other and with them. 

Hack #5: clean the grill

Make sure the grill is off and cool enough to handle safely, but still slightly warm ( as this helps loosen residue). For gas grills, turn off the propane and disconnect if necessary. Use a grill brush or scraper, and perhaps even a putty knife, to remove charred food and grease from the grates. For stubborn buildup, soak the grates in warm, soapy water for 15–30 minutes.

I’ll bet you thought “clean the grill” was going to be a metaphor! Naw. I just thought five hacks was a nice, round number, plus I’d mentioned barbecue grills above, as you’ll perhaps recall, though that must seem like hours ago. I hasten to add that I don’t actually know anything about barbecue grills. I stole those directions from the Internet and cannot vouch for them. But never mind, you’ve finally made it to the end. Thanks for reading, and feel free to share your own advice below.

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From the Archives - Bits & Bobs Volume X

Introduction

This is the tenth installment in the “From the Archives – Bits & Bobs” series. Volume I is here, Volume II is here, Volume III is here, Volume IV is here, Volume V is here, Volume VI is here, Volume VII is here, Volume XIII is here, and Volume IX is here. (The different volumes have little or nothing to do with one another.)

As with the last few installments, these are taken from ancient emails, back when I archived them as simple text files in the mistaken belief I’d be able to keep up with the practice. It didn’t last long, but has yielded some fun finds from a bygone era. I wrote all these when I was living in San Francisco, before moving to the burbs and becoming a parent.

December 26, 1994

[Having recently finished a 9-month bike tour] I’m still interviewing for a proper corporate-type job. In the meantime I’ve been working odd shifts at the bike shop in Berkeley, just to feel like I’m not a totally hopeless unemployed person. It’s a pretty ridiculous commute, first biking up and over California Street which has got to be at least a 15% grade, and then all the way under the bay on the Bart, for the typically paltry pay you get at a bike shop. Still, it’s diverting and often fun. For example, on Christmas Eve, a bike builder named Daniel, who has been on suspension without pay until further notice for sloppy work, brought in a 12-pack of Heineken, probably as a brown-nosing move. We threw it in the fridge, and brainstormed ways to get the owner, M—, to let us drink them on the job. M— was in a holiday mood, which was good; earlier, I’d “reminded” him of a policy of always buying lunch for members of the staff who wore staff t-shirts on Christmas Eve, and he went along with it. Well, by mid-afternoon the mad Christmas crowds were getting to me and the boys, and I proposed to M— the idea of discreet alcohol consumption to carry us through. M— said, “What, there’s beers!? Cool, gimme one.” Alas, it appeared we’d have no way to open them, lacking a bottle opener, but I grabbed a Maillard Helicomatic lock-ring tool and it worked great. In fact, it soon dawned on me that one half of the tool does the lock-ring, and the other is in fact nothing else but a bottle opener. You gotta love the French. Well, M— proceeded to walk out on the sales floor, beer in hand, and sell a bike. Needless to say it was a free-for-all after that.

January 1, 1995

I guess I forgot to give you my (kinda) new street address: it’s below. I had some fun moving in here. Our street is fairly flat, but our-cross street, Filbert, is crazy steep. They don’t call our neighborhood Russian Hill for nothing; our hills are as oppressive as Russia herself. Trucks and tour buses are prohibited on Filbert but that didn’t stop me from driving up it in the 14-foot U-Haul I rented. Its diesel engine was taxed to the limit, and I had this breathtaking, terrifying, yet oddly giddy feeling of impending doom. Halfway up—and too late to turn around—my inner ear started giving me (non-verbal) warning messages that the truck was about to pitch over backwards and tumble down the hill, end over end. It was such a fearsome feat that I almost got an erection. I held my breath and reassured myself with the fact that this time, I’d bought the full insurance. Anyhow, I made it over, down the other side on compression (the engine shrieking like it was gonna throw a rod), and then, as a final flourish, proceeded to parallel-park that baby in one of the toughest neighborhoods for parking in the entire city.

March 13, 1995

I am very gratified to get your response. The kind of honesty I indulged in via my letter to you, calling you out as I did, was admittedly dangerous—the recipient of such a letter can either take the painful, self-effacing route (which you did), or delude himself and continue to hide behind the falsity of his social veneer. This latter type, like a blindfolded tyke who has yet to learn object permanence, will assume that because he can’t see the truth, that it can’t see him. Of course such behavior is completely pathological. Right now I’m thinking of J— S—, whose insatiable desire to be cooler than me back in high school took the form of dissing me, like some kind of human sacrifice to the gods of cool. I thought to myself, “J—, can’t you do better than that? It’s not hard to be cooler than me—why don’t you try to be cooler than somebody who actually is cool? Like the Fonz? I mean, seriously … cooler than me? What kind of ambition is that?” I was originally drawn to J— as a friend, back in elementary school, because he was such a bold, unapologetic nerd. Unfortunately, it couldn’t last. Through what he probably thought was a social apotheosis from lowly dork into “happening dude” (his favorite phrase), I witnessed the slow, cancerous death of a personality.

May 2, 1995

Thanks for the warning about the virus! I’ve always wondered whether those anti-virus programs can detect viruses that come over e-mail. Fortunately, almost all my e-mail comes from trusted friends and relatives anyway. I did, however, receive a “junk mail” message at work. I guess business solicitations are frowned upon on the Internet, but on CompuServe [how I get and send e-mail], who knows, maybe anything goes. Anyway, I forwarded your warning message to everybody in my e-mail list (about 20 people).

So, yeah, e-mail sure is cool. It’s been wonderful to be able to write my brother Geoff without waiting for the normal three weeks or so it takes the postal service to carry physical mail to the Netherlands. Maybe I’ll get a sound card for my PC and record my actual voice, and send the recording as a binary file; Geoff could hear a reasonable computer facsimile of my voice on the other end! Of course that would be more of a parlor trick than anything useful. You know, the strangest thing about e-mail is that my dad, who by all means ought to be a master of this technology, has not actually joined up. And yet he has the computer, and the mind, for it. Bizarre.

August 6, 1995

You know what? Every time I make my Mexican rice, I think of the time I made it at your place in NYC, and scorched it. The horror! I am certain that you threw away the leftover rice, because it was, well, inedible. I only hope you didn’t have to throw away the pot since I’d blackened it so badly. I keep thinking about what a disaster that was. I say all this to my shame. I guess what I’m saying is, you should really come out to San Francisco so that I can try again with the rice, and show you that it really is good when the right ingredients and familiar kitchen equipment are on hand. I could send you back with a new pot, even. So if you get the chance, please come. Until then, I suppose you can just curse my name.

October 24, 1995

Using the formula f=mgh, and my stopwatch and altimeter data, I have calculated my power output for the climbs I biked up today: over a period of 16:30, I averaged 0.37 horsepower. But what does that mean? Does it mean I have a third of the strength of a horse? Well, not really; I don’t think horsepower applies to horses in the real world. But we do use horsepower to describe certain things. For example, my output was .0037 times the horsepower of a 1985 Volkswagen Jetta, I happen to know. And it would be more than enough to power a Hoover Mighty Might vacuum cleaner. If that’s not interesting to you, consider that 0.37 horsepower translates into 272 watts. That tells us my output is enough to power one of our chandeliers and a desk lamp.

November 1, 1995

Why yes, I’ve been to House of Nanking many times, and thanks for asking. I guess I can’t really recall what my favorite dishes are there, as I try to mix it up each time. Until recently, my strategy was to spend my time in line asking everybody else what they usually get. But the last time, I was in the mood for chow fun and asked the waiter, who is also the owner, if they had it. (In my experience, you can ask for just about anything, including chili mac, at a Chinese restaurant and they’ll have it, even if it’s not on the menu. Not that I have ever actually asked for chili mac. I’m just sayin’.) Well, the owner looked at me as if I were some kind of uncultured rube (which I may well be). “No, chow fun is white-man food!” he laughed. “This your first time here?” I said, “Uh … no.” He nodded and said, “I’ll set you up.” What then transpired you can well imagine, as you described your own Nanking dining experience so well in your last epistle … I need say nothing more. I love that place. It’s always worth the wait. I like the strange vegetables that they use—yams, for example. Totally unique (plus I normally hate yams). As far as the place being greasy, sure, it’s greasy, as Chinese food tends to be, but compared to most places, it goes down (and stays down) pretty darn well. Man. Now I can’t get that place off my mind.

August 27, 1996

How cool, I just figured out how to hook the CD-ROM in my computer into my boom box. It works great—so it looks like I bought computer speakers for nothing. Oh well. Now I can play CDs, which I never could before. Only problem is, I only own two CDs and they were both freebies that E— got from her work. I guess I could check out CDs from the library and tape them. Or of course I could do like everyone else and just go to the record store and buy music, but E— and I are trying to save up for a house one day, which is no easy feat in this area. We looked at a 2-bedroom condo a few doors down and it’s $250,000! There are 1-bedroom condos on top of Russian Hill for $1 million … as if! Sausalito is probably only slightly cheaper than San Francisco, and we’d have to pay $3 a day to commute in over the Golden Gate Bridge (not to mention fighting the traffic … no thanks). So we have to be pretty frugal while we figure out where, one day, we might be able to afford a place.

December 2, 1996

Just had the stomach flu. As if in some awful parody of the three-squares-a-day rule, I deposited my Thanksgiving dinner, in three installments, into the toilet (out the front end). Damn!

December 23, 1996

In reply to your question:

>>You’re set in Internet EtheReal Estate, hottest property going 
>>(the new frontier). But still one question: where do you put 
>>the relatives when they come to visit?

Well, it’s really pretty BASIC. First, I should say that my family members aren’t exactly queuing up to visit me. But when one or two of these characters feels the need to offload, I’m happy to let them nest in any free partition in my home. I help download their luggage (we have a little cache to store any valuables they might have). If they stay the night, I have a strange kind of cot I fashioned out of a kind of braided fiber (a web, you might say) that I’ve stretched over a mainframe. I have a nice spreadsheet for the cot, and some other soft wares, to make guests as comfortable as possible. Usually I keep the bedding compressed, but sometimes I set it up just for CIX and floppy down on it myself.

I’d really like to keep my domain open, but I normally limit it to friends and family. I mean, entertaining is a real effort for me—I guess I’m just not a natural-born server. Multi-tasking is hard for me so I just can’t monitor everyone all the time. I struggle to be a good host sometimes, and some guests I don’t like the slightest bit. Most are basically OK, but many just don’t observe the proper protocol. I can handle it if they’re not PC, but I won’t tolerate bad language. In fact, the next time I get a cursor, he’d better be ready to run, because I swear I’ll boot him!

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Letter to a Middle-Aged Cyclist - Buy New Wheels NOW!

Vlog

This post is available as a vlog. And check this out: if you launch the video and then close your eyes, it magically becomes a podcast! Naturally, the traditional text-O-rama blog format follows below.

Introduction

I’m not much of a consumer, but recently a friend bullied me into buying new wheels for my road bike. Based on the outcome, and with all the zeal of a convert, I exhorted another friend, who complained about broken spokes, to buy these wheels as well. Seeing an opportunity to expand my beneficence, I hereby entreat all middle-aged road cyclists to buy new wheels too. Here are my top five reasons, followed by a handy Q&A.

Reason #1 – You’re not getting any younger

Okay, right off the bat you can find some pretty badass looking wheels nowadays. Case in point, these Dura-Ace C40s I just picked up. Have a gander at these bad boys.

Now, if you were 70 years old, would I be recommending these to you? Of course not. You’d be a geezer, unlikely to get much use out of them. When my dad was like 70, and had suffered some shoulder injury he thought to be permanent, he decided he needed a recumbent, because it was closer to the ground. “If I crash on a regular bicycle and land on my shoulder, it is done,” he explained sternly. Alas, he was too old a dog to master the recumbent bicycle, so then he bought a recumbent tricycle. Now he no longer needed to balance, but the supine riding position, he complained, gave him terrible neck pain. Well hell, I could have predicted that!

The awkwardness of the recumbent is not just a physical problem. There’s also the aesthetic consideration. Nobody should ride recumbents, any more than any tortoise should be flipped over on its back and laughed at. Fortunately, after giving up on the trike, my dad decided his shoulder was okay after all and bought a sensible Fuji hybrid/commuter bike. Not bad, except he never rode it either; apparently after his hip replacement he couldn’t swing his leg over the bike. So he asked me what I thought about him trading it in for a women’s model, with no top tube.

My instant reaction was, “What, are you crazy? What’s next, you gonna start drinking rosé? Dude, it’s time to man up, do some damn physical therapy, and ride the bike you got!” But if course there was no point in saying this. By the time a guy is asking you if it’s okay to ride a women’s bike, it’s too late to help him. “Sounds like a great plan,” I told him, “and I’m sure Performance would gladly swap your bike for a women’s model at no charge. After all, you’ve never ridden it.” This was a gamble, of course; would he take my advice, and if so, whose demise was approaching faster—his or Performance’s? (In the end it was a dead heat.)

I hope I’ve made it clear we need to put off the geezer years for as long as possible and hang on to youthful stuff with all our might. In this battle, aesthetics are important. If you’re over 50, you’re heading toward the years when you wouldn’t necessarily carry off those badass new wheels very well. Similarly, there’s something sad about a 65-year-old in a distressed-looking leather jacket and that’s where we’re headed. At some point that jacket would need to be traded in on a cardigan sweater because who the hell are we kidding? As Anthony Bourdain once said, “There’s nothing cool about ‘used to be cool.’”

[Above: my brother Max and I when we were younger and cooler (even if we weren’t, strictly speaking, cool). Can I still wear that jacket? Yes, I think … but not forever.]

Don’t even get me started on all the super-cool sports cars you see in the Bay Area—the Porsches, the McLarens, the Audi R8s, even your occasional Lambo—that inevitably have some 60-plus douche behind the wheel (driving responsibly, of course). Seeing this grotesque pairing of speed-obsessed engineering and delusional, over-moneyed, existential Viagra, I fantasize about the guy’s irresponsible 18-year-old grandson stealing the car and taking it out for a joy ride, maybe even leading the cops in a stupidity-and-adrenaline-fueled high-speed pursuit.

At least bikes provide a healthy outlet for midlife-crisis ya-yas. So we should all be using high-end, kickass gear while we still can. If we can still put the hurt on younger riders, and we can still make our racing bikes go jolly fast, we’re not too old to deserve really awesome machines. Yet. So you need to snap up and enjoy these wheels while you still have the mettle, the minerals, the sound & the fury to put them to good use. Seize the day!

Reason #2 – The price is right

I hear anecdotally that everything is cheaper now because of the COVID-19 shelter-in-place and the low price of oil. New cars, as described here, are still being shipped over here and there’s no place to put them because the dealers aren’t making a dent in their current inventory. It’s kind of a consumer’s market in general, apparently.

So when I broke my third spoke in under 500 miles on my current rear wheel, and complained to my friend Pete, he immediately urged me to buy new ones. He even sent me a link to where the wheels he recommended were on sale for $350 off. Within a few minutes I found them on closeout at another place for $600 off. DAAAAAAMN!

There’s also the price of not buying those wheels. Look, your gear is going to wear out at some point. Why wait until then, when the economy may well be booming again, and you’ll have to pay what the market will bear? And why run the risk of finding out the hard way that your hubs and/or rims are approaching wear-related catastrophic structural failure, like my crankarm back in 2011?

With my new wheels the cost analysis included the crap I’d have had to put up with from Pete if I’d stuck to my penny-pinching ways. He wrote, and I quote, “Do it do it do it do it. Don’t be scared.” I hemmed and hawed and he pointed out, “It’s not like you’re gonna go on some expensive vacation any time soon.” I acknowledged this point and he replied: “See, you’re practically making money on the deal!”

Not a bad argument, but the “don’t be scared” was even more powerful. Did you catch that? How he was, albeit subtly, impugning my confidence? Like I’m too scared to throw money around? I went silent for a bit and he texted me, “I assume your silence means you bought them!” He basically rim-shamed me into the purchase, and I hope I’m doing the same with you. If not, read on because I’m not done yet.

Reason #3 – Aero wheels actually will make you go faster

By “modern” I mean the truly aerodynamic ones. No, not like those super deep-dish time trial wheels, which is frankly overkill, but something a bit more aggressive than what you might have on your bike. In my case, I had been rocking the HED Ardennes, which claim to be aerodynamic but aren’t very deep (and frankly aren’t very durable—long, dull story). I’m talking something at least 35mm deep, from the edge of the rim where the tire sidewall begins to where the spokes go in. And the wheels need to have a relative paucity of spokes—not a mere 16 front and rear, like the early Shimano wheels I swore off of, but not your old-school 28- or 32-spoke build either. And bladed spokes, needless to say. Why on earth did my replacement HED wheel, which I just bought late last year to replace the defective one I bought in 2014, have non-bladed spokes? What, did they forget? What’s next, toothpaste without fluoride? Leaded gasoline? CRT televisions? Dial-up Internet?

Now, the bicycle industry has a long history of total BS when it comes to aerodynamics. I give you the aero water bottle, which led to famous victories by nobody ever.

They’re just hideous. I doubt anybody would use them even if they did confer a real advantage. Aesthetics, remember?

And you think the placement of these shifters, and the internal cabling, led to any actual benefit?

To some degree the bicycle industry pretended that making something needlessly ugly would automatically lead to aerodynamic improvement:

So I’ve been skeptical about aero wheels too (other than, obviously, disk wheels, tri-spokes, etc.). When I was pondering my last new wheel purchase in 2014, I incredulously emailed my teammate Sean (a legit bike maven), “It’s crazy ... the more expensive Dura-Ace wheels are heavier than the C24s … could that be right? Is the idea that the aerodynamics are so much better, it’s worth it? The order of the universe seems out of whack all of a sudden.” Sean replied, “Yes, that is correct. I too have trouble accepting the idea that heavier wheels can be faster, but apparently the aerodynamics more than make up for the weight gain, unless you are doing major climbing.”

So is he right? In a word, yes. There really is a big difference with these Dura-Ace C40s (35mm deep in the rim-brake version). It’s not subtle. Consider this: there’s a little downhill on Wildcat Canyon Road, where I try to get as much speed as I can to carry me up the next rise. I’m accustomed to hitting a little over 30 mph on that if I pedal fairly hard. With these wheels, putting out about the same perceived effort, I hit 37 mph! Digging extra deep yesterday, I reached almost 40. Going down South Park Drive, without pedaling, I can feel the bike picking up speed like it never has before, as though gravity had gotten stronger. (In a sense its effect is stronger, as it’s impeded less by wind drag.) Descending with these wheels is the difference between paddling your little canoe out on the lake vs. feeling a giant wave pick up your surf kayak and hurl it toward the beach.

Now, I know just what you’re thinking: your decisions these days are data-driven. You don’t want this mealy-mouthed, feel-good subjective nonsense clouding your AI-like judgment. So here are the cold, hard facts about my first two rides with these wheels.

My first ride was one of my favorite loops, 19.3 miles with about 2,500 feet of climbing. My previous best time of the year was 1:19:02, an average speed of 14.7 mph. On this route with the new wheels (their maiden voyage), I clocked a 1:16:26, averaging 15.5 mph. Pretty staggering improvement, eh?

Now, there’s a such thing as “new bike syndrome” where you automatically go faster because a) you’re excited about the new bike, and b) you’re frightened into riding harder by the looming specter of buyer’s remorse. Does new bike syndrome extend to wheels? Anecdotally I wouldn’t say so, and anyway we can account for that effect, to some extent, by looking at average heart rate across the two rides.

For the ride that produced my former best time, my average heart rate was 131 bpm, and I was in Zone 3 (>144 bpm) for 0:17:49. On the new wheels, my record-breaking ride was at an average HR of 132, with only 0:15:55 in zone 3 (and no time in or above zone 4 for either ride). In other words, the level of effort was comparable, one ride to the next. So, yeah—it was the fricking wheels! They actually made me faster!

Of course I can’t base this conclusion on a single ride. But the next ride corroborated this; it’s a bit shorter at 16.7 miles, with just over 2,000 feet of climbing, and I beat my 2020 PR of 1:07:43 handily, completing the ride in just 1:04:45 (15.5 mph vs. 14.8). This year I’ve done one or the other of these loops 17 times on the old wheels, and never averaged above 15 mph. With the new wheels, I’ve broken the coveted 15 mph average all three times on the longer loop plus the one time on the shorter loop. Four for four!

Moreover, factoring in longer rides (with more flat sections), my highest average speed of the year on the old wheels was 16.3 mph (on a 33-mile ride with 2,900 feet of climbing). On the new wheels yesterday, I averaged 17.6 mph (on a 39.4-mile ride with 3,300 feet of climbing). That’s an 8% improvement … stunning.

Reason #4 – New wheels will actually make you ride harder

Okay, I’ll confess that comparing my average heart rate across rides is somewhat specious, given the slippery nature of the term “average.” After all, the average person has one breast and one testicle. Coasting on downhills will lower the average heart rate figure inconsistently, etc. Meanwhile, by looking closely at some of my climbs, it’s clear I’ve been going harder lately. On the old wheels I recently clocked a non-stellar 8:13 up Pinehurst Road, whereas with the new wheels yesterday I managed a much better 7:39. My average heart rate over the slower ascent was a mere 140 bpm. Yesterday, my average for this climb was 148 bpm. Across the whole ride, I’d averaged 122 bpm for the first ride, and 133 yesterday.

So does this deconstruct my whole argument, suggesting that greater effort, not greater efficiency, explains the improvement in speed? First of all, no—the difference is too great, and too consistent, and I do have the pair of rides with very similar heart rate yet dissimilar speed & time. Second, it kind of doesn’t really matter if I could have gone as fast, or as hard, on the old wheels. The fact is, I didn’t. I’m going faster and harder now, clearly. When better equipment puts better performance within our reach, we’re much more likely to stretch ourselves.

There’s also the matter of momentum. The parts of my rides that aren’t big climbs or descents are still lumpy, and with the new wheels I find myself carrying more speed from a downhill into the next uphill, such that if I go a bit harder I can stay in the big chainring for longer stretches (in my case, from Summit Reservoir all the way to Inspiration Point), which inspires and enthuses me. It’s a virtuous cycle.

[Google Maps says it takes 23 minutes to ride the above route. With my old wheels I did as well as 12:58. My new PR with the aero wheels is 11:35.]

Reason #5 – COVID-19

Let’s face it, if we’re smart during this pandemic we’ll all be riding alone for the foreseeable future, with nobody to draft, so we need to be as aerodynamic as possible or we’ll a) get too frustrated to continue, meaning we’ll give up cycling, launching a downward slide into sloth and depression, or b) we’ll be unable to resist drafting others, meaning we’re one snot rocket away from bringing the coronavirus home and killing our entire family.

Meanwhile, returning to the fiscal discussion I started earlier, during shelter-in-place it’s harder to spend money. My credit card bill hasn’t been this low in years, and for the first time in forever all the transactions fit on one page. Why not splurge a little? Besides, there’s a good chance we’ll all be dead soon, along with our would-be heirs, so what’s the point in saving? It’s time to buy! Buy buy buy!

Questions and answers

Q. Why not just get a whole new bike, since there have been so many improvements in technology, such as disc brakes?

A. How can you even contemplate such a major purchase when the global economy is melting the fuck down?! I can’t believe you’re thinking so irresponsibly. Besides, better brakes will not make you go faster. Aren’t we slowing down enough as we head into middle age? Meanwhile, it might be pretty hard finding a new bike anyway ... the pandemic has caused a major bike shortage, as described here.

Q. Why wouldn’t I upgrade my mountain bike wheels instead? Maybe with some sweet carbon rims?

A. With the vast hordes of hikers I’m seeing in the regional parks, I don’t consider mountain biking safe whatsoever right now, or even fun. How are you supposed to socially distance on single track? I can’t imagine spending money on a bike I might not get to even ride in the foreseeable future.

Q. What about crosswinds?

A. Whaddya mean, crosswinds? What the hell are you even talking about? Listen to this guy … crosswinds.

Q. In your previous post about selecting bike wheels you touted the benefits of wider rims and claimed that “the HEDs really do ride better” and “the ride is really plush.” Now you’re pushing Dura-Ace wheels with a narrower rim profile. What gives?

A. You know what else is really plush? Your bed. Or we could ride around on beach cruisers. Look, we’re heading toward old age, infirmity, and death … this isn’t the time to make ourselves comfortable. To paraphrase Andrew Marvell, “The grave’s a fine and restful place/ But no one there is fit to race.”

Q. You seem to assume that all your readers are still gainfully employed right now, even though unemployment in the U.S. is now at historic levels, with more than 20 million people out of work. How can you callously pretend we’re all in a position to spend money on nonessentials?

A. Just buy the damn wheels.

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