Logged Off and Running Uphill

On Wednesday, September 22nd, I decided to give up something that for many people my age was an every day necessity: Facebook, Twitter, and all other forms of what has been termed “social media.” This week, I explore the affect it had on me and the realizations I was able to make concerning my own life, the lives of others, and how we interact, communicate, and relate to each other in the 21st Century.

Previous Installments: Part 1 | Part 2

KEVIN MARSHALL LOGS OFF

PART 3: RUNNING UPHILL
Kevin Marshall likes this

After a few days of cutting myself off from the social media world, I began to accept my position as a digital hermit.

I was still checking my e-mail. The depth of my dependency was such, though, that I realized the reason it seemed nobody was trying to e-mail me was because most of my e-mails came in the way of notifications through these sites. Even the “old web” way of doing things had been overwhelmed by messages that read “____ is now following you on Twitter” or to let you know that somebody sent you a message on another platform.

E-mail, once heralded as a revolutionary concept that was going to lead our wagons into a new age of communication, was all but obsolete save as a hub or gateway to other sites.

And I thought “wow, I’m getting old.”

Regardless, I found I was still able to communicate with the handful of old fogeys like myself; people who were communicating with me in a semi-professional setting or were assisting with organizing a forthcoming marathon reading of To Kill a Mockingbird to raise funds for Literacy Volunteers of the Greater Capital Region (click here). As we ironed out details and planned our next meeting, I envisioned us all huddled around a steel barrel with flames coming out the top and regaling each other with tales of our hobo adventures; wondering what it was like out there in that fancy pants real world.

Once those tasks were completed, I went about finding other ways to kill the time.

Before I continue, I acknowledge that this may seem a bit ridiculous. Most of you, if you’ve even made it this far, are probably rolling your eyes and wondering why I don’t just read a book and why this is such a difficult transition. Understand that, as I outlined in part one, engaging friends and family on sites like Facebook and Twitter had become a reflex action so deeply engrained that I found I was having to stop myself from hitting “Enter” after involuntarily typing in the URL for these sites. It’s not just me, either; it seems most in my age group have taken to these sites as a means of keeping tabs and organizing their social lives. Even if you don’t buy that, just know that it’s an everyday regular function that I had been performing for years and was now, abruptly, bringing an end to.

Like a smoker with an nicotine itch (which as a former smoker I’m all too familiar with), I had to find something to do. So I ran.

I’d been doing fairly well with my running regiment in the weeks prior, but nothing like this. For the first time…well, ever, I ran for four consecutive days, outside. I designed a route for myself that wasn’t going to break me physically, but was still going to be at a level which I hadn’t challenged myself before. The course was for the most part uphill, with one segment being a quarter of a mile straight up one of the steepest inclines in my part of the city.

The first time I ran the route, I felt a real sense of accomplishment. I didn’t even bother trying to figure out my time. The mere fact that I was able to run the most difficult route I’ve ever run – straight through without stopping or walking – was enough.

Or perhaps not, because my first thought was to post about it on Twitter or Facebook. Barring that, who do I tell about this, and how? More importantly, why?

I thought perhaps I could text or call a friend, but that felt odd. Who calls up a person or texts them simply to tell them about a personal accomplishment or milestone with no context? Bragging on a broad platform to a vague audience was a lot easier and a lot less awkward than doing so person to person.

Then I came to the conclusion that I didn’t need to tell anyone. Just knowing that I did it (mentioning it in this blog post aside) should be enough for me considering where I’ve been physically and my long term goals.

Thus came my greatest discovery in the process of giving up social media: the concept of personal fulfillment. I’ve struggled my entire life  to be personally satisfied with my accomplishments, no matter how small. Like so many others, I strived for the vindication that came from having other people acknowledge things I had done. I don’t even desire congratulations or praise. As you can see from the onset of this project, I am terrible at taking compliments. As one person put it, I may be worse at taking compliments than I am at taking abuse. Still, I have this strange need to have people know what I’m doing and what I’ve done. I don’t even need them to congratulate, or compliment, or even comment on it. I just need to know that they know or even might know.

I realized immediately that this was a problem far greater than posting 140 character updates and logging in to see how many people liked my status.  However, I doubt I would have had such a revelation had I not deprived myself of those sites and set about this project.

As the week came to a close, I sat down at my desk on a Sunday evening and opened up my laptop. I could go back to twitter, check out all the replies, see what pictures had been uploaded on Facebook, and catch up on all my messages. I found, though, that it was much harder and more daunting to go back than I’d initially thought. I certainly got more than I bargained for with this project and achieved whatever it was that I set out to achieve.

Was I ever going to go back? Am I ever going to back? Of course. Just not that day. Maybe the next day, or the next week. Just not that day.

TOMORROW: Conclusions and findings.