So, along with feelings of inertia, the pull of screens and other such pacifiers, I load up and roll out.

The initial layer of this deoptimized journey is car based. But even in my little Prius, I have almost everything I could need. And once I get wherever “there” is, I have another moment where I have to overcome the part of me that wants to keep things like a memory foam mattress and cooler on hand.

After much faffing, I’m on to the next level of deoptization. The magic of covering terrain on tubeless tires with a wide gear ratio. Oh the places I can go on a bike. A gate reads “road closed,” not for me. I move around it like a deer. The feelings of freedom, self-reliance, and exhilaration overtake the parts of me that want to stay “cozy.”

Finally, I find myself at the end of a path. The place where it’s too rough or overgrown for two wheels. Along with my hands, feet and whatever hardwired skills that modernity hasn’t ironed out of me, this is when it gets really real.

Back to basics.

Ladies and gentleman, we’ve begun our initial descent into fall and we’re gaining momentum. The days are noticeably shorter. Up high, the leaves are turning. What we have now, is late summer and just like everything, it ain’t gonna last.

Let’s get out amongst it.

“Sure is.” I affirmed, craning my neck up from painting the four square court. Ron, my eighty year old LDS neighbor whom I was meeting for the first time, hoisted up a twelver of Baja Blast Mountain Dew from the front basket. “Great, where shall I set these?” His dog’s leash was tangled around the axel of which he didn’t notice or perhaps just didn’t care. “You can set ‘em on the table next to the clothing swap.”

I was co-hosting my street’s annual Goatsville Block Party and Ron had seen the invite taped on the street post. “I don’t leave the house much anymore but when I do I’m always early. By the way, how’d you get the street closed to cars?” His eye brows flickered with excitement.

“City permit.” I boasted.

Ron was one of two-hundred neighbors who celebrated community with us this summer evening. Although we couldn’t get him on the dance floor, or in the pool, or playing corn hole, or to tie-dye his shirt… the sight of him joy riding his whip back and forth on the open street, Cola in hand, alone at the end of the night— seemingly just to feel the wind on his scalp— was something I’ll never forget.

He’d later tell me that it was the first time he had fun in over a year. “I didn’t know how badly I needed this.”

“Me too man, me too.”

I’ve created a step by step outline for hosting a block party here, including how to apply for a street closure permit. It’s simple but helpful in getting the ball rolling. I want to support others in this process because I believe it to be one of the most potent grassroots antidotes to the troubles of our times. Please reach out if you’d like free consult.

—L

I shouldn’t be surprised that selling delicious Swedish soft candy is a good business model. The quick fix with minimal friction is baked into our primal, scarcity biased brains. As the saying goes, the customer is always right. And what we want is literal (and metaphorical) candy.

But

All the candy in the world can’t give us the more subtle yet undeniable yearning that lives like a glowing ember in our hearts. More than a that rush or that buzz what we really want, it almost needs to be whispered… is meaning.

Connection beyond ourselves, raw feelings of aliveness and visceral vitality. Belonging to the resonance of Life itself.

And

Technically, those deeper sensory experiences are available to us anywhere, even at a candy shop. But as Timothy Leary reminds us, set and setting matter.

Capitalism appears to be almost entirely set up around helping us buy more candy. Unplugged exists as a creative expression designed to bring together open-minded seekers looking to add a few pieces of seasoned wood to that burning ember of meaning and connection.

—M

PS: Results show that candy tastes 609% better when enjoyed with others under the shade of a pine tree in the midst of a five hour bike ride.

This street, usually plagued by speeding drivers, had been closed to thru traffic. It was 2020, and COVID had just shaken reality.

Alongside the suffering, isolation, and death, COVID also gave us something else: a chance to step back from the hustle of normal life. It felt like the world collectively paused to ask, what is actually essential? Things we’d assumed were fixed turned out to just be social conventions.

For some jobs, offices became optional. The 40-hour workweek shrank to 25. Restaurants spilled into sidewalks and parking lots. Handshakes vanished. Shopping stopped. Student loan payments paused. Unemployment benefits expanded. School moved online. Open streets programs popped up everywhere. The list goes on.

In a matter of weeks, societies around the world changed systems that had seemed untouchable for decades. COVID was like a get-out-of-jail-free card — giving city officials cover to try changes they’d never had the courage to attempt before.

As I biked down that closed street, I giggled, because all it took to bring this vibrancy back was one janky road sign. Cars could still pass. No driveways were blocked. But this one sign shifted the paradigm of who our streets are really for.

—L

Live: While our recipe remains basic, each Unplugged adventure stands alone as a totally unique one-off happening. Those who don’t join us might read about it or see photos, but the real essence of the trip can only be experienced firsthand.

Guests: From relative strangers to fellow seekers, folks who turn up for an Unplugged trip have distinct through lines about their personality. They come together in a four-day creative act of collective humanity and end up in some way changed.

Project: There’s a beginning, middle, and end. The space is opened on Wednesday evening, filled with all kinds of experiences, chance encounters, and dynamic happenings until Sunday afternoon, when the space is closed forever.

Connection: The sauce of an Unplugged trip. Connection to the depths of ourselves, the landscape we interact with, and the people we’re out there in it with.

Transaction: It’s trite, but if you were given a terminal diagnosis, how would you spend your time and money? Well, no matter who you are, your diagnosis is TERMINAL. We don’t know how and we don’t know when, but we’re all going to die. With that salient fact in the front of our minds, how do we want to live? In The Tao of Pooh, Benjamin Hoff said, “You can’t save time. You can only spend it.”

Full details and registration for Unplugged Salmon can be found here.

Registration closes Sunday, July 19th.

Here’s Andy aka An-diesel on last year’s trip showing his chest to 2.5 million acres of wilderness, the largest in the lower 48. In his words, “Yeah baby!”

With the recent police crack-downs at last month’s ride The Salt Lake Tribune released another opinion piece, by Jason Lane, on the matter. The needle hasn’t seemed to move much since 2022, still pointing fingers and leaving readers to debate: is the 999 good or evil?

For all the awareness, even nuance, that The Trib has brought to the nine, the truth is that most people are getting their information from soundbites on social media. These platforms profit by pushing us into the traps of binary thinking, chewing us up and spitting us out to regurgitate simplistic-outrage in comment threads online. In reality, the nine, and most all human endeavors, are gray, squishy, and nuanced.

When dealing with complexity, the most effective medium is never behind a key board. If we want progress— real forward motion— the only tried and true medium is the one that our great nation was built upon. The foundation of our democracy. The most effective technology of improvement we know. Public discourse. Our voices. The real ones. Face to face. Where we can hold two things true at once without losing context to translation. Where deep in our chest we can feel with someone who sits across the divide.

Unplugged is hosting a public panel discussion this August titled “The Future of the 999” in which you’ll hear representatives from the SLCPD, SLC Transportation, Sweet Streets, 999 Jeff, and City Council bringing their cards to the table to chew on the nuance that our public streets deserve.

Reply “999” for event details.

There was honesty and laughter. Coffee and carbs. Kitty litter gravel and big chunky choss. Expansive views and alpine air. Campfires and card games. Singing and rainstorms. Bacon and eggs. Milky Way and shooting stars. Stories and listening. Massages and closed fist punches. Steep grades and ripping turns. Shriveled scrotums and bare feet. Tears of sadness, anger, joy, and relief. There were spliffs and sparkling hop water. Dad jokes and howling. Side conversations and side missions. Personal stories and improvisation. Swear words and frisbees. Beauty and bandages. Unapologetic farts and hacky sack circles. Dancing and napping. Chopping wood and carrying water. Setting up and taking down. Blood, sweat, and gears. Hammerheads and cruisers. Friends, strangers, brothers. 20s, 30s, 40s, 50s, 60s. Serenity and levity. Feelings of accomplishment and new understandings. Boundaries reset, norms challenged, relationships forged and rekindled. Ashes and dust. Sage and pine. A life’s worth of learning, one moment at a time.

This year we’re opening the trip up to anyone. While we can promise there won’t be closed fist punches, we can’t guarantee there won’t be shriveled scrotums.

The trip starts and finishes at our friends Will and Maria’s beautiful river-front property two blocks from downtown Salmon Idaho on the evening of July 29th. Over three days we’ll cover 99 miles with 12,275 rocky mountain feet of vertical gain. So yeah, she ain’t easy.

But all that effort comes with a proper pendulum swing towards deep rest and rejuvenation. With three nights on the shores of two clear, cold alpine lakes and one epic layover day, this trip is crafted for a balance of challenge and chill. Having a good time requires a medium high level of fitness and a willingness to explore your edges. There’s a considerable investment in time, effort, and money and the outcome is anything but certain.

Look, we ran this trip last summer and it was more than good. Anything could happen and we hope you’re there to find out. Life is really, really, really big. How small are you willing to feel?

-M

***

The truth? Health isn’t complicated… especially when talking with Dr. Niki Davis. She’s a former rocket scientrist turned medical doctor who has seen the pitfalls of the medical system and is here to help. Rather than more drugs, Niki invites her patients to take a loving look at their lifestyles.

“The greatest medicine of all is teaching people how not to need it.”—Hippocrates

I was immediately drawn to her due to her common sense, holistic approach to living a meaningful life. In my opinion, she’s the perfect blend of new-age spirituality and no-nonsense scientific health. Whilst recording a podcast together I made a joke about Pickleball and her eyes lit up… “you play too?!” we laughed and the rest was history.

We both believe that growth is a necessary ingredient for a life well lived. Even (especially?) growth in something as silly as pickleball. I’m over thinking that pickleball is silly though. Well, okay, it is silly. But it’s also an incredible game. I’m obsessed because it’s one of the portals to flow state I know. And isn’t that what we’re going for? Present moment awareness, out of our heads and into our bodies, playing and connecting with other people, laughing, engaged, and simply trying hard to do our best?

The two words that come to mind are fun and learning. And Niki and I want you to know that you’re invited.

***

Join us in the red rocks of Southern Utah to ignite your game and awaken your body with this plant-based pickleball retreat.

Can you feel it?

It’s a three-day reset where holistic health meets nonstop improvement in your play. Hosted by Dr. Niki Davis and myself, this immersive weekend blends expert pickleball coaching, adventure, whole-food plant-based nutrition, and the regenerative power of a connected crew. Come ready to elevate your game, reset your habits, and remember just how alive you can feel.

Guided by the six pillars of lifestyle medicine, and a large dose of fun, this retreat will leave you feeling:

More alive

With no phones, clean eating, hiking, guided discussion, plant-based workshops, lifestyle medicine seminars, and more pickleball than you can dream of, we promise rejuvenation, invigoration, and an increased zest for life.

More confident

With expert coaching in the kitchen (both pickle and chef’s), this intensive will have you at the top of your game.

More connected

With ample exercise, communal eating, connection activities, personal pool, and a plethora of play, we promise more connection to your body, mind, food, community, kitchen, and paddle.

***

Who: 2.5 - 4.0 pickleball players interested in holistic health and lifestyle medicine.

What: 3-day pickleball retreat with plant based, whole food nutrition (we’ve hired a professional chef) and guided adventure.

When: 9/24/26 - 9/27/26

Where: a bougie AirBnB in Santa Clara, UT with private pickle ball courts. Options for private bedroom or shared bunks.

Cost: dependent upon room selection…

ONLY 9 spots left!

***

Curious? Or know someone who might be interested?

Reply “pickle” and I’ll send you the invite.

Most wellness advice these days neglects a fundamental truth of homo sapiens: we’re built for teams. Discussing peptides without addressing sociality is like debating which to use while forgetting that we simply need to eat.

The wellness industry is designed to distract, divide, and disorient—not to help us find meaning. If we can unplug from the distraction machine long enough to remember our roots then the path becomes less murky.

Move your body in nature, away from screens, WITH OTHERS.

These words describe a way of life that people have practiced for millennia. Yet today is forgotten to the hyper-speed dopamine culture of algorithmic health trends.

Harvard socio-biologist E.O. Wilson highlights that humans are not actually social like dogs or horses. In fact, we are ultra-social like ants and bees. Our success is the story of large groups learning to work together better than other species. We aren’t the fastest, strongest, or toughest but we are special because we’re amongst the most cooperative.

This checks out in my experience. When I look at the high points of my life, most of them involved doing something hard as a team.

Unplugged patrons tell us, time and again, that the most profound aspect of our adventures is not the workshops, the bikepacking skills, the desert solitude, the breaking of holding patterns, the digital detox, the silliness, the meditation sessions, or the stars. No. It’s the relationships. The sense of teamwork, camaradarous accomplishment, and family that emerges after completing the week’s rigorous adventure. It’s the collective exhale of making it to camp before dark, tired and together. It’s the group giggles around a star lit crackling fire. It’s the improv group discussion while crushing crispy La Croix’s and watching the sunset. It’s the spontaneous song circle whilst collectively jimmy-rigging Katie’s derailleur after pushing her to the top of climb. All of it as a squad.

We call it group flow and it’s our secret sauce. Nothing too crazy, just a judgement free space to show up as your perfectly imperfect self and contribute to something greater than you. “Come as you are, be as you are, think for the group” we say. Simple and effective, the downstream effects of this cohesive space can be life changing. Especially for those of us in the plugged-in world who currently lack a rich community. In my opinion, to be a contributing member of a team is one of the most potent healing modalities on the market.

Asking not “am I happy?” but rather “how can I help?”… and having fun while doing so. Everyone does dishes, or starts the fire, or initiates camp games, or guides discussion, or shares snacks atop climbs, or helps new-found friends pitch tents in the wind, or contributes in their own special way— not because they have to but because they recognize that it’s better that way.

This grants access into something deep, neighborly, and dare I say tribal. With everyone playing their part— regulated, safe, unified— the door is open for the magic to arrive. And if/when/if the magic arrives… whooweeee is it tasty. More enduring, more transformational, and more real than any red-light-aroma-therapy-sound-bath could ever provide.

We mustn’t forget the basics.

Move your body in nature, away from screens, WITH OTHERS.

We’re ultra-social human beings who thrive when we come together outside to do things at our edge.

—L

If you’re tryna feel this Group Flow, or know someone in need… come join us this fall… reply with a silly one word response to get all the details, info, and invites on our upcoming happenings.

There was silliness in the crowd, likely because most people were dressed only in their skivvies but it was more than Bike.Club. The whole park seemed to be taking themselves not too seriously. Vibes were raised even higher when we passed a group of kilted bagpipers playing in the grass.

The ride ended at a third space called Norkova, an SLC based group that’s doing all kinds of offline, community based stuff. If you haven’t been there, go check it out. With the garage door open, the indoor/outdoor scene was popping off. Some people got dinner at the food truck, others climbed a structure and watched the sun set. All the while we had funky-ass music from Tanner FruitLoops and Cara Schulz who together go by the name of Best Day Ever and it pretty much was. Tanner took us on a journey with his improvised saxophone and beat creations while Cara added layers of tasty looped vocals that included some hype additions from people in the crowd. The cops shut us down but we were headed for the ambient portion of their set anyway.

On Friday night, I saw a version of humanity that made it seem like despite all the bad stuff going on, things are still groovy. Ray said it best when he was handed the mic at the end of the night, “a few of us neighbors have lived on this block upwards of 50 years. This has been the best damn block party we’ve ever had!”

A front yard splash pool, art station, tie dye, clothing exchange, live music, four square, coolers of drinks, tables of food- including fresh baked bread. And the best part of all- the spectrum spanned toddlers to elderly and everyone in between. I guess it’s their job but SLPD showed up again and told us to follow the rules and simmer down. By my account, it was a definition of a good hang.

It’s pretty incredible what can happen when you close a road to cars and open it to people. The system wants to keep us inside, online and scared. Down with the system. And up with a shared Friday night in the middle of June. Yeah, baby!

M

I’m thirty four, why am I still having semi-regular run-ins with cops? I’m equal parts embarrassed and proud. Not proud to break the law, per se, but proud to stand up for what I believe— we were playing catch in the street.

It took every ounce of restraint to hold my tongue and not bark back at the officer, “Americans are lonely, isolated, screen-addicted and sedentary and you’re about to fine us for playing in the street.” I wanted to say. “This is one of the antidotes to our modern times, can’t you see the bigger picture?” But I didn’t. And I can’t fault the officer, he was just doing his job— making sure that streets are for cars, not people.

It hasn’t always been this way.

Until the early 1900s streets were social and chaotic with kids playing, adults walking, vendors selling, and plant life and bicycles mixed amongst it all. Before cars, streets were for people. Which was a serious issue for Henry Ford and auto-industry.

Ford knew the Model T was revolutionary with great potential. But the reputation of automobiles in the early 1900’s was that they were loud, dangerous, elitist toys for the rich. Plus, they killed kids. So the auto-industry went to work, throwing large money at lobbying campaigns to shift the cultural narrative around traffic deaths and the purpose of a street.

In 1911, The Kansas City Star published the first recorded use of the term jaywalker, meaning stupid pedestrian. Jay, at the time, was a slang term for country bumpkin or uncivilized person— similar to how we use Karen or Jerry today. The auto-industry caught wind of the term and weaponized it in their favor, setting in motion the car-centric cultural shift that almost sent me to jail for… wait for it… playing catch in the street.

I’d have no issues with our car-centric culture if Americans had freely voted for this reality. Or if it was helping us thrive. But we didn’t and it’s not. We’ve been manipulated by Big Auto to ensure that cars take precedence, not the wellbeing of people. This trend continues today with massive amounts of money thrown into propaganda normalizing traffic deaths, influencing public policy, urban design, and our perception of who the streets are for.

Cars, much like Tylenol and pain meds, are magnificent tools with incredibly promising implications. But if taken in too high of doses can prove to be toxic. My point of contention is our relationship to cars— no longer just a tool, the car is an addiction. One that pollutes our lungs, harms our climate, dominates our culture, damages our communities, and is the cause of ~40,000 deaths per year.

By way of a thousand tiny cuts, we chose short-term convenience over thriving communities and we’re paying the price. A drip by drip decimation of green space, public land, knowing thy neighbor, and the ability to walk to the market. I believe that if we snapped our fingers and spent a day on the streets in 1910, you and I would be disheartened at the vibrancy that we’ve lost to vehicles over the last century.

My hope is not to get rid of vehicles, or to shame drivers, but rather to nudge us back into a healthier, more balanced relationship with them. I take hope in the fact that people are waking up to car-brain. That people are seeing that life is better by bike. And that, by the grace of god, E-bikes are here to save our future.

"Gas-powered transportation and vehicles are responsible for about half of the pollution along the Wasatch Front. Replacing just a fraction of gas-powered car trips with an e-bike can help you save money on gas, enjoy a more fun commute, and improve air quality," said Utah Department of Environmental Quality Spokesperson.

Quiet, clean(er), and fun, these things are as sleek as Harry Potter’s Nimbus 2000…. with cargo storage, racks, baby buckets, and battery lives that extend 100+ miles I believe E-bikes have the potential to put cars back into their rightful role. And not because “we should” or to “save the environment” but because E-bikes just straight up more economical, practical, and FUN. At a slightly elevated heart rate, flying 20 mph effortlessly down the street— while also hauling your groceries— these things are the ultimate adult jet ski for land.

Salt Lake County is currently offering an $800 rebate program on any E-bike purchase. And like that, the culture is shifting. Drip by drip, slowly, not all at once and difficult to see. But it’s happening.

More butts on bikes.

Precisely because key individuals chose to use their voice. The same voice we all have.

More butts on bikes.

—L

According to the NIH, Social Anxiety Disorder (SAD) is on the rise. In the US, roughly 15 million adults— 7.1% of the population— wrestle with this condition annually. The Anxiety and Depression Association of America estimates that even these figures don’t capture the full scope of the problem, since many individuals remain undiagnosed.

Is the increase in social anxiety because the human genome is changing? Not likely. This is a cultural phenomenon that says less about genetic flaw, more about American life in 2026

.

I just finished reading Priya Parker’s book, The Art of Gathering, who sings a similar tune to us here at Unplugged. Most parties suck. Or— less catchy but more accurate—most gatherings neglect the structure to help their guests navigate social anxiety.

Both Parker and I agree that the antidote to social anxiety is connection. So how do we get there? Parker begins by stating a problem. Most gatherings are poor not because of bad logistics, but because they lack a clear, purposeful human-centered design. And by flipping this problem on it’s head Parker offers a solution: host better gatherings. How? By putting people first.

Gatherings become powerful when they are intentionally designed around purpose, people, and emotional experience rather than convention and logistics, Parker argues. Which means ensuring that everyone has a fair shot at becoming regulated. This is an obvious statement— that every host would agree with— but in practice is under emphasized.

What percentage of gatherings do you attend in which the vibe is free, flowy, cohesive and connected? With a critical mass of guests out of their thinking mind and in their bodies? Whatever the answer is, it could be higher.

The Art of Gathering is a call for hosts to acknowledge the depth of our primal anxieties and to firmly guide us to the thing we’re all looking for… connection.

Hosting, Parker argues, is an art— demanding skill, intention, and courage— that so frequently flops because, well, it’s an art and art is hard. Facilitation, Parker continues, has fallen prey to the insidious archetype of “the chill host” who fears overstepping but in turn leaves their guests staring into an acquaintance’s blank face doing their darndest to avoid awkward silence.

If the meat-and-potatoes of a gathering involves “chatting” then we’re letting humanity down. The human psyche needs more than this to feel safe. The typical American social soup is tight, contrived, and more about fitting in than being at ease… so of course we have social anxiety. Add to this the base level of discomfort that comes with any new social interaction and we begin to see the true value of a skilled facilitator.

My mother is a skilled facilitator. Constantly inventing new scaffolding— silly games, random trivia, themes, interactive cooking, relay races— to help her guests relax and relate. In this, she offers a buffer to protect people from slipping into the trap of small talk and LARPing adulthood.

We need more courageous artists like her in the world. Connection connoisseurs, warm demanders, and fun facilitators not afraid to generously guide a group to the thing we seek. To take us by the hand and create the conditions to metabolize the social anxieties that live within us all.

It’s time we fuck around and find out.

—L

This photo was taken in 1960. The leaping man is Yves Klein, a French artist who helped generate some of the momentum that led to the counterculture of the 1960s. Klein was weird. He composed a piece of music where an orchestra played the chord D for 20 continuous minutes followed by 20 minutes of silence. He created and patented a particular shade of blue.

I learned about Klein from one of my teachers, Seth Godin, who pointed out that despite the ground, Klein’s gaze is upward. Toward possibility. It’s called “Leap into the Void.”

But then I stumbled on the negative used to create the famous pre-photoshop image. Another friend pointed out perhaps a more important meaning.

Besides the ridiculously gangster outfit of the guy in white, this image could be a metaphor. Last week Lucas wrote about hyper-individual wellness culture. This image shows us an antidote.

A goal of Unplugged is to create conditions that help us take risks, be bold, fly. And also, we all need places to land. We need support. We need each other.

In this second photo, it’s not clear to me who’s having the most fun- that’s what we’re looking for. That’s the power of the squad coming together. For and with the homies. The tribe. Common humanity.

As crazy as the world seems, it’s probably going to keep getting crazier. Let’s ask for and give more help, not less. Let’s move with, lean on, and look up.

Summer of 2026 is here. And just like the evening light, it won’t last. Let’s get out amongst it. Let’s make good trouble. Let’s do this together.

-M

His tone was matter-of-fact but I knew there was more to the story. We were cruising a dirt road, windows down, having just wrapped up Unplugged’s sixteenth bikepack wellness adventure.

Anders’ truck has two corroded wheel wells, a back hatch that doesn’t close and an unknown squealing noise that emits every five miles or so. We were on track to intercept a dust tornado in the distance. I wondered if it might be the thing to finally cause his rig to croak.

Like his truck, Anders is an old soul with character who— despite the rough outward appearance— runs like an absolute dream. Our convo was energizing. “The pursuit of happiness has been so ransacked by social media that it’s now just an individualistic, borderline narcissistic, scheme convincing consumers to pay out the ass for biohacking self-care optimization routines.”

I nodded, pointed to the dust tornado and he continued spitting. “Every new age guru has their consumers fixated on themselves. I’m willing to bet that the more one asks whether they’re happy, the less happy they actually are. With the spotlight always on ourselves, life is just one big self help project. Whatever happened to the old religious advice of simply helping thy neighbor?”

Realizing the road’s trajectory was no longer on track, he halted the car and we started sprinting at the tornado. Two minutes anaerobic had us with our hands on our knees, still a hundred yards from the eye. We bowed our heads and applauded its power.

“Would you have run into the middle?” I asked.

“Yes.”

Back on the dusty, our mad dash rejuvenated the convo. “We used to focus outwards— on serving God and helping others— in order to live a life of meaning. Social media flipped that on its head.” Anders said. “God had its problems. So did too much focus outwards. But, back then, when shit went awry, at least we were pushed to help a neighbor build a fence rather than ice bath alone.”

We hit the paved road, the first concrete in days. I was glad to be back in the plugged-in world. We pondered self absorption then painted the spectrum between narcissism and self erasure. We both agreed: wellness culture is so self-interested that it’s now cringe.

Wellness, however, is not. It is the thing we’re all looking for.

And it’s not as complicated as your internet shaman is telling you.

—L

A few hours later, trailing the cruiser group by a handful of minutes, I broke an Unplugged norm. Basically, we ask riders to do their best to avoid crashing. Any crash sucks, but a bad crash out here could require a helicopter evacuation. Nobody wants that. So, do your best to prevent it. I value this norm, and then I broke it.

Going downhill, I lost my front wheel in some sand. That kind of thing happens, but it’s also preventable. My problem was too much speed and probably my position on the bike. My body didn’t have enough reaction time. All it could do was lean on its learned ability to relax in the midst of the crash.

Pushing my upside-down bike off of me, I sat there in the dirt and took some breaths. The good news was that my body was ok. I was thankful. And also felt ashamed. I was a hypocrite. Bummer, dude.

Thank you, Gods we haven’t had many crashes. And knock on all the wood, no one has been seriously hurt. Some of that has been luck, yes. But it’s also because people stick to a backcountry mindset: have as good a time as possible and avoid unnecessary risk.

Thrills are everywhere and consequence is relative. Move, play, and live in a way you can do again tomorrow.

BECOME A MEMBER

Abby is one of those peeps whose smile says it all. She literally beams.

I met her at bike club, briefly, and then ran into her a week later at Fisher Brewing. She was playing cards and immediately invited me into her friend group, no questions asked. I knew she was cool, and then she grabbed her friend by the arm and dragged her to the center of the empty dance floor and started line dancing. Five minutes later the whole bar was dancing.

Her say yes attitude is infectious, as is her generosity. She even ended up donating dozens of hours of time to help sew Unplugged patches onto thrifted clothing to support the cause… for free. There’s a lot more to her than this but here’s a little taste, enjoy.

Fave SLC third space?

Liberty park or the natural law apothecary.

What’s your job?

Community liaison and marketer for Visiting Angels; I also work at Survivor Wellness and am a full time student in a grad program in Social Work.

What chapter of life are you in?

Learning and deepening roots; Building for the future.

What do you wish people asked you more about?

About my favorite people and places. I love to rave about the lovely people I know and places I’ve been that hold a lil piece of my heart! I also love to talk about van life, meaning of life hehe, primitive skills, and dreams.

What do you value most in a relationship?

Wholesome goodness! Also authenticity, maybe a tad of eccentricity, and just an attitude that’s down to have fun.

Two truths and a lie:

I have broken my femur twice. I caught a piranha with a stick, string, and hook in the Amazon. I worked on a sail boat as a galley maid and then graduated to first mate.

What’s a typical bike.club like for you?

I roll up barely on time to see a bunch of friends chatting before we ride. Lucas tells us the dangers of cars being sharks and how we are a school of fish and then we cruise. I bike by Norman and Weston to hear their highs and lows, Grace gives me her dog count of the day and lets me know about her side quests, Kelly tells me about her weekly adventures, Jordan tells me he’s been in Oregon or something crazy, then I meet someone new who is stoked to be there, cruise by Annie and we make sound effects as we zoom to the front to jam out to Cannon’s playlist before we make it to Roha where Andrew has graciously set up the best sauna in all the land. There is often a DJ just playin music as people eat from Taco Daddy’s food truck as Lucas hands out stickers. 10/10 night.

Why do you go to bike club?

I go to bike club for the community. And to hear Lucas’s school of fish speech. It's accepting, playful, and a happy group of people who just want to connect and cruise. Life is better with these people in it, who are now some of my closest friends in SLC.

I had just moved to SLC and joined bike club in December after seeing it on the gram. I joined in the darkest part of the year and not only did it change how I viewed SLC in winter (I now think winter riding sooo fun) but it also led me to the legendary Annie Joseph! Annie happened to grow up in my same home town at the same time I did but our paths never crossed until a fateful Wednesday evening at bike club. Annie and I then started a very unhinged sewing group with Colin and we sew almost every Tuesday night together.

Final take aways?

Bike club takes us places in town I would never have gone. It’s also helped me realize just how accessible everything is by bike plus I now play a fun game to try to see if I recognize any biker riding by me in SLC… It has really helped Salt Lake feel more like a community. Especially when you see Pickle Doug on the corner of Smith’s parking lot, or Patrick and Dylan at a Sierra Ferrell concert. Bike club just has the coolest cats that join and you can make like thirty new friends in one night. Incredible. I go to bed with a smile on my face every Wednesday night hehe.

It started when I woke up. As the back deck received the first rays of sunshine, distant cheering could be heard through freshly leafed trees.

I laced up and hit the streets. The morning air was crisp and still. The smoothest section of car lane belonging to my blades, I started passing runners with unfair ease.

People were out. In their front yards, some with hand-painted signs, many holding mugs of hot drink, crusties still in the corners of their weekend morning eyes. All of them smiling.

I met up with two friends. One also on blades, the other on bike.

We found Lucas, also smiling. Making a dash for the porta potty, his fourth visit that morning. Back on the street, he resumed a stride as relaxed as his attidude. We turned down 2700 South, an ever-so-gentle slope marking the edge of the mighty Wasatch mountains. The rollerblading conditions were not perfect. They were spectacular.

We approached 1300 East, normally a six-lane monstrosity of zooming rubber and steel. But not today. Even the cops were smiling. Standing in front of their lit-up squad cars, they parted the sea of idling steel that stretched as far as you could see in both directions. A river of humanity flowing through.

130 years ago the marathon, based on a 2,500-year-old story, was reimagined in its birthplace of Athens. In 2026, no one needs to wake up and run the distance of a historically disputed event. The blisters, diarrhea, snot, and bloody nipples are all completely optional.

In his book The Grasshopper: Games, Life, and Utopia, Bernard Suits defines playing a game as “voluntarily taking on unnecessary obstacles to create the possibility of struggling to overcome them.”

Later that evening, a group of us met up for a front yard collective art session followed by an extremely pleasant springtime evening urban cruise. Lucas had on a pair of his partner Morgan’s golden sweatpant shorts. “Seek discomfort” was printed on the left leg.

Words don’t mean much these days. And for modern, privileged humans like us, discomforts have been slowly and suddenly engineered out of our lives. So why seek them out?

For the feelings. For the deep sense of peace and vitality that rewards us on the other side of unnecessary obstacles.

Tonight, 15 of us will be circled up around a crackling fire for the kick off of the Swellness Rally presented by our sponsor, Señor Don Julio. And yes, intentional discomfort is baked in.

I’m proud to say it’s been over 3 years now and we’re still showing up. Still getting more butts on bikes. Still helping folks feel more alive. Still building community. Still getting people off screens and into the real world.

If you see what we’re doing, please consider showing your support. For $4.20 per month, your membership allows us to keep the fire burning.

JOIN NOW

I avoid posts like these because time spent doing this is time NOT spent doing the actual thing— community organizing, turning bikers into riders, adventure planning, and facilitating old-school-style-digital-detox-fun— but in the name of sustainability we’re asking for your support.

BECOME A MEMBER

We’ve got wind at our backs and your membership only adds to the tailwind. Here’s a list of what I’m most proud of from this year:

• 52 bike clubs, not a week missed.

• 52 newsletters, not a week missed.

• ~1872 butts on bikes.

• 8 romantic relationships blossomed from bike club (that we know of).

• 36 bike clubbers (average) every week, year round, supporting local businesses – ROHA Brewing Project and Tacos Daddy.

• 15+ mutual aid requests fulfilled via our discord channel— help moving, home improvement projects, borrow a truck, shared tools, funding for legal fees, etc.

• 200+ people riding the streets in nothing but their skivvies – SLC’s first annual Undie Ride… that we started (and is happening again June 3rd!)

• 5 different grass roots organizations all spawned from the bike club ecosystem– Money Monday (a group of Salt Lakers who meet to discuss financial freedom); Third Place SLC (a monthly gathering for connection); Shanty Club (bi-weekly meet up to sing songs of the sea); Craft Night X MakeAmmends (weekly meetup for crafts plus mending workshops); Unplugged Potlucks (monthly potluck with mindfulness workshops).

  These groups, btw, are what I’m most proud of.

• 45 men on Unplugged Dudes Trips doing the work to better show up for their family, friends, and community back home.

• 3 Desert Disco Parties

• 2 bike clubbers being voted in as “Utah State Delegates.”

• 2 Games of Capture the Flag

• 214 rounds of four square

• 8 Corporate Off-Site Team Facilitations with local organizations like SLUG Magazine, Parametrix, Project Connection, and Craft Lake City— specifically focused on using fun and play to facilitate cohesion in the work place.

• 12+ different random rogue meet-ups of people riding together.

• A CRAP TON of time away from screens, IRL, playing and connecting.

JOIN NOW

You joining for $4.20 a month is oxygen to our flame. I double dog dare you to prove that you believe in us.

BECOME A MEMBER

Our goal is to raise $4,000. This money will go towards a 4-set of Rocky-Talky radios for bike club (~$1000), new laser lights for bike club after parties (~$280), website domain fees (~$150), plus a general fund for a back up speaker, bike trailer maintenance, and emergency funds to keep the fire burning (~$2500).

This is part of our springtime campaign to raise funds for the year ahead. Catch you next week. And, as always, play on players.

—L

Ian told me to fuck off and jimmy-rigged the guitar between my arms. “Repeat after me, Eddie Ate Dynamite, Good Bye Eddie.” Reluctant but seeing that Ian wouldn’t relent, I repeated.

“Now make a rock-on symbol on the A and D strings and strum.” I did. “Bro, that’s an E-minor!” He literally jumped with joy.

I fancy myself a good learner. But if I’m honest I only shine my growth mindset on activities in which I’m already confident. For example, I’m learning pickle ball but I’m already confident from tennis. Same for hacky sack from soccer and hosting gatherings from teaching. With music, however, this is not the case. There is no— I mean zero— pre-existing confidence which has me genuinely questioning if I have what it takes.

When I look at a life well lived though, the pursuit of excellence and learning new skills are two of the heaviest hitters out there. So what’s the deal with this music blockage?

Well, I’m human, amidst a dance with resistance, ruts, and old fearful stories that no longer serve me.

Much apreesh to homies like Ian for nudging me to just step onto the dance floor

To varying degrees, life has a way of water logging us all. Things happen, resistance builds up and it becomes difficult to maintain a temperature that allows us to stay lit.

Under the right conditions, wood gets seasoned. Energy sucking moisture is released and what’s left is wood that’s not just ready, that shit is eager to burn.

The dominant systems want to keep us waterlogged. But we can game the system. Unplugged aims to be part of your metaphorical tool-kit for wood seasoning. In a world apparently careening towards some kind of precipice, we’re on a journey towards more human, more natural connection. Towards aliveness. If we can stay lit, maybe we can glow like that ember of pure carbon charcoal.

Heyo, pass the mallowz..

PS: HBD to OG bike.clubber, Mike!

Mike brings his infectious warmth to bike club every week and is leading tonight’s route. Hell yeah, Mike.