The incredible privilege of phonelessness

Of all the things we dismissively refer to as "first world problems," addiction to our cell phones might be one of the first-worldiest. What an incredible luxury it is to be powerfully compelled by this thousand dollar chunk of metal and glass that costs more than a month's rent in many major metros! But it would be disingenuous to claim that our relationship with these devices is always a healthy one—not when we have convincing evidence that they're addictive by design.

I didn't realize how dependent my cell phone situation is until I started leaving it in my locker at the gym. (I have an iPhone 13, market value craperoo, so I feel safe in announcing this.) I've been an off-and-on gymgoer for the last 30-plus years, and have definitely been more on since 2023. When I started rebuilding my athletic life, I don't think I would have made it without my little sad Apple box — between looking at Instagram while stretching and cueing up inspirational YouTube videos (by which I mean footage from Madonna's Sticky and Sweet tour, which she embarked on at age 50 and included choreography like this:

...and, yes, the double dutch part is a bit cringey but the athleticism! My god!) I never would have kept coming back.

So, thank you telephone for occupying my brain when all it wanted was to stop exercising and go back to bed! Thank you! I will always be grateful. And that you also allowed me to be "present" for work in those tenuous early months of routine development was also so so key. Being able to Slack from the treadmill was a blessing.

Then, like so many women my age, I was seduced by the gospel of Casey "She's a Beast" Johnston after hearing her on Wired's podcast later that year. By then, I had, as the co-owner of my gym put it, "taken [my body] down to the studs;" I was running and feeling great. But the way she talked about lifting weights got me excited in a way no other conversation about lifting ever has.

I feel very weird about writing that last sentence because my husband, a lifelong lifter who has graciously trained me at various times for the last 20 years, is reading this! And it might hurt his feelings that I said that, which makes me feel terrible. But this shit hits different, maybe, when it comes from someone who is like me (cis female, writer, raised in dysmorphic lady body culture). It was a message I heard for the first time when it came from her mouth.

So I started clanking around in the gym, and got even more serious when—for work—I got a DEXA scan and learned that I was what people horrifically call "skinny fat," with a low BMI but a very high body fat percentage. (DEXA scans have a sizable margin of error, so their results should be taken with a grain of salt — but my results were beyond that margin. It was NOT GREAT. Also, BMIs are bullshit; I'm just using that term for the sake of reference.)

Tim, of the advice I never listened to until a stranger on a podcast presented it, still agreed to train me once more, this time to hit my highest potential on the big four: Bench, deadlift, squat, and shoulder press. It's been some of the most engrossing and rewarding time I have spent in a gym, ever.

But at a certain point, I realized the same device that got me to go to the gym in the first place — my little telephone — was getting in the way of my concentration. So I put that fucker away, and I haven't looked back. Guys, it has been AMAZING. My brain has never felt more focused and in the moment. In between sets, I have the unbelievable gift of nothing to do — I just stare into space. I feel certain it has led to for-real athletic gains. And I feel...free.

But, of course, the only reason I can be phoneless is because I have somehow found myself doing work that doesn't (for the first time in my 21-year career) require me to be immediately accessible 24/7/365. That Always Onness is still a necessity for so many folks, especially in the Bay Area San (at least, we feel like it is). Also of note: I don't have any kids who might be messaging me, or instantaneous obligations to family members.

I feel compelled to note this because every time I read an article on breaking up with your phone (and I usually read these articles on my phone) I see comments pointing out how most folks have lives that prevent a full and total move to a flip phone or less. This is super true, and I wish more people proposing full-on digital detoxes or whatever would acknowledge that cold phone turkey is truly impossible for most.

Yeah, no, I can't break up with my phone completely, as much as I want to (especially this week, yuck). But opening up the relationship to allow gym time to be a stare into space situation feels like a solid first step into my slow descent into full Puddy-dom. But I never would have even thought of putting this thing down before I got into lifting, another reason I am so grateful I stumbled on that podcast two years ago.

Elsewhere

I wrote about new documentary Riefenstahl for Vanity Fair, noting as I did that its filmmakers pointed out remarkable similarities between Hitler's tactics amnd several we're seeing in this current moment in history. (And they are certainly not the first people to do that!) This inspired one right-wing pundit to call me a slimemaster, which, you guys, is a hilarious nickname! If you see me around, please call me "slimemaster" from now on. Maybe I will make a t-shirt.

Also cool

I am very interested in seeing how things play out at Coyote Media Collective, a worker-owned, Bay Area-focused news outlet that launched this week. Thus far, it demonstrates an alt-weekly sensibility in the best possible way, and feels extremely fun and loose — but I also know that the operation is comprised of several folks with a strong background in serious, straightforward journalism, so I am sure the deeper dives and investigations are around the corner.

Worker-owned collectives have had a strong showing on the national stage (Defector and 404 Media, to name a few), but they're harder to find at the local level. But if these folks can make it happen in the Bay Area's extremely crowded media market, that'll really makes me wonder if this model could be the way forward for some of our nation's news deserts.

Speaking of, I was also excited to see that my sometimes-hometown paper, the Indianapolis Star, just named Ryan Martin as its new editor. Like so many dailies, the Star is a shadow of what it was when I was a kid; it's been disemboweled by current owner Gannett and that company's templetized website is a visual insult. Martin, a thoughtful and excellent journalist I interviewed for a print story last year, can't fix all that — but there's a lot I know he can, and will, do. Indianapolis needs muscular and important journalism so very gravely! I'm so stoked to see what he does there.

(And, no, you are not the only person thinking "hmm, your first item and second one in this section have me thinking about innovative solutions for Midwestern journalism." Yeah, me too! If anything actionable comes to mind, we should talk.)