Archives for 2021

I started seeing e-scooters popping up around London in 2018. They were already common in the US and in other parts of Europe at that point, but London was lagging.

They were illegal here; classified as “powered transporters” and so could only be used on private property.

Fast forward 3 years, and I now see dedicated e-scooter parking zones all around my borough.

The government is now heavily backing the adoption of e-scooters. The shift has been driven by 1) demand for more socially-distanced transportation, and 2) an appetite for a transition to greener modes of travel.

Ironically and confusingly, only government-backed e-scooter rentals are legal here. Privately owned e-scooters can still only be used on private property.

I think that’ll change eventually, but it’s interesting to see how quickly e-scooters have transitioned from public nuisance to progressive policy lever.

I’m all for it! E-scooters are a lot of fun.

I recently learnt about the incredible bar-tailed godwit: a little bird coming in at 38cm long and only 300-400 grams.

Each year they complete the longest known migration of any bird species: a journey of almost 10,000kms from New Zealand to Alaska (and on the way up to Alaska they also make a pit stop in China’s Yellow Sea!). All up, it takes them about 8 days, and during that time they don’t sleep or rest. The funny thing is they’re obese and prime athletes at the same time (they need the fuel for the flight).

Unfortunately, like many other species, the bar-tailed godwit population is declining. Scientists are tracking their migratory pathways to figure out what could be threatening their existence. It’s amazing to think that the survival of such an amazing bird depends on the health and biodiversity of 3 places as unique as New Zealand, China, and Alaska.

If you’re interested to learn more, here is a little 10 min documentary I enjoyed watching today.

When trying to grow, there are only a few moments that matter each day.

There are only a few moments of peak stress, or when patience is needed, or when we can run a little farther, or lift a little heavier.

We don’t grow when things are easy.

We need the new stimulus.

It pays to be aware of, and then optimise, around these few moments.

We’re on the cusp of October.

It’s my month of peak denial: summer can’t be gone yet.

So I try and fight winter in odd ways.

I’ll refuse to wear gloves when cycling.

I’ll venture out in a t-shirt.

I’ll “forget” to check the forecast.

But, inevitably, the cold bites.

It forces my numb, ungloved hands into submission. It warns me via a shivering episode to pack an extra layer.

And yet I still like winter wrestling.

It’s the summer bug in me in its last act of defiance.

If you’re a Kiwi trying to get home—either to visit or to live—you need use the government’s ‘Managed Isolation and Quarantine’ website.

The website is a “lobby” and “queue” system where, currently, more than 25,000 people vie each fortnight to get one of approximately 3,000 rooms.

In short, it’s not a lobby, nor is it a queue, it’s a lottery.

Although I’m grateful New Zealand has been a haven from COVID for the past 18 months, it’s really frustrating that there are tens of thousands of Kiwis trying to get home, with the vast majority of us not being able to.

I get a weird feeling when I look at my passport. At this moment in time, it can get me into almost any country on earth, except the one I was born in. And that feels wrong.

Yesterday, I played my first game of football in 2 years.

Most of my cardio is either cycling or high-intensity resistance training in the gym, so running in short, sharp bursts whilst quickly changing direction is foreign to me right now.

I deliberately played at 60-70% effort with the aim of minimising the risk of injury.

I succeeded on that front, but I still woke up this morning with aches—the good kind—throughout my hips and legs.

It reminded me how healthy and beneficial it is to change up the routine on a regular basis. The new stimulus shocks our body, and it forces us to grow and get stronger.

Today I read a book to my 3-year-old nephew via Caribu.

Caribu is a family, video-calling app that integrates books, games, and activities. It’s goal is to help people connect and bond with the little ones in the family, even though they may be miles away.

We read a story about dinosaurs, we made sounds together, and my nephew helped turn the pages.

Although it’s not the same as being there in-person, but it’s a great option for those of us that are far from nieces, nephews, and grandkids.

I saw this sign in Kings Cross today.

Nice idea, but it fails in practice.

Here’s some data from UK charity, First Aid For Life:

“Currently less than 10% of people experiencing cardiac arrests in the community survive.” That’s pretty grim.

“CPR alone can double the chances of survival. When you use a defibrillator in addition to quality CPR, the odds of someone’s survival can jump from around 6% to 74%.” That’s an insane improvement in odds.

Yet “research has shown that deploying a defibrillator within 3–5 minutes of collapse can produce survival rates as high as 50–70%.” Yes the defibrillator is powerful, but it has to be deployed really quickly.

If someone had a heart attack in the Kings Cross square, I’m certain it’d take longer than 5 minutes to call the number and get the defibrillator to the site.

It’s a good lesson: we may design the solution with the best of intentions, but it’s all for naught if the solution has no chance at success from the outset.

When I put a draft down on paper and share it with someone, I’ve gotten into the habit of asking 2 questions:

1. What’s wrong?
2. What’s missing?

I’ve almost certainly got something wrong. By proactively asking the reader to help me identify what’s wrong, we get the a better answer, faster.

And I’ve almost certainly missed something. While it’s easier to just react to what’s on the page, the someone else is usually able to identify my gaps in logic and reasoning.

I loved this video of 3 centenarians sharing life lessons.

None of them wished they worked more hours.

All of them talked about the importance of relationships and love.

And my favourite answer of all was from a gentlemen who was asked to talk about his failures:

“I don’t have many failures. If I’m making a cake, and it fails, it becomes a pudding.”

Going “back to the drawing board” is always said like it’s a bad thing.

Why?

The drawing board is a great place to be. It’s full of possibility. It’s a safe space. It’s a chance to stare into the distance, without distraction, and dream about what could be.

Instead of trying to avoid the drawing board, what ideas and innovations could we come up with if we just tried to spend more time in front of it?

My personal trainer, Julian, shared a great idea with me this morning.

He said there are three things that make a great personal training session, and that if you can do these three things, a personal trainer will never lose a client:

1. Help your client perform a workout they couldn’t achieve on their own (e.g., motivate them to lift a heavier weight, or help them with forced repetitions)
2. Help your client learn something new to aid their fitness journey (e.g., actionable dietary, training, or sleep advice)
3. Make sure your client has fun

I love how simple, clear, and effective this formula is.

It got me thinking about how 90% of success—not just in personal training, but in many professions—is often down to doing a few critical things really well.

Microsoft recently published the results of an employee remote work study.

Putting aside the skewed sample, the headline finding was: average length of workweek has increased 10% during pandemic.

For all the love remote working has been getting in the last 18 months, this is a pretty scary stat! And the immediate next question is: why?

“The increase in workweek hours could be an indication that employees were less productive and required more time to complete their work, or that they replaced some of their commuting time with work time; however, as we are able to measure only the time between the first and last work activity in a day, it could also be that the same amount of working time is spread across a greater share of the calendar day due to breaks or interruptions for non-work activities.”

Reflecting on my own experience, I’m working later now compared to when I was in the office. I’ve also found the lack of separation between “work time” and “home time” to be challenging (my cycle home from work used to help me decompress and work through any remaining problems from the day. I don’t get that now).

I’m not aware of any global studies that are similar Microsofts’, but I’m willing to bet many of those working from home will be able to relate to the Microsoft findings.

What’s been your experience?

I caught an Uber boat for the first time today, and loved it.

The super fast ferries run up and down the Thames, and are a much more scenic way to travel than by London Underground.

It started to rain mid journey, and I was lucky to capture a timelapse of the river and city with a beautiful rainbow overhead.

Here is a link to the timelapse.

I love how you can live in a city for 5 years and still find new ways to experience it.

Maru and I ticked over 5 years in the UK this week, and milestone has had me reflecting on when we first arrived.

We were lucky. Maru’s parents were with us for the first month, which made settling in easier. But it was still daunting though to arrive with no jobs, scant savings, and few connections. To be honest, I didn’t think we’d stay for more than a 2 years.

Yet here we are, 5 years on. In that time, we’ve made wonderful friends, both of us have changed careers, Maru’s in the middle of graduate school, and we don’t see ourselves leaving in the foreseeable future.

This reflection reminded me of a moment from almost 10 years ago on one of my first visits to the UK. I was standing on the side of a London road with my backpack, and I was lost. A couple came up to me and asked if I needed help or directions. The gentleman immediately recognised my accent and said he was a Kiwi too. I asked him how long he’d been here, and he said, “8 years, and it’s flown by.”

8 years felt like an eternity to me back then. I never thought that one day I’d be celebrating 5 years here, and also looking forward to the 6th, 7th, and 8th.