Are you really building software from a bike?

The heavy lifting runs on its own while I'm out. My part — reviewing and approving the next step — is what I do from my phone between trails. I'm steering and deciding, not typing code one-handed on a descent.

Doesn't the quality drop if you're not focused at a desk?

It doesn't, because I still read and approve everything before it ships. Deep, from-scratch design work I still do at a real screen. The trail is for the steady stream of small decisions, which is most of the work.

What makes this possible?

AI coding agents that work toward a goal on their own but pause to ask before doing anything that matters. That check-in is the key — it turns building into a series of quick approvals I can make from anywhere.

Is this only useful if you write code?

No. The same shift is coming for anyone who runs a business: the software does the grind, you make the calls. That's the whole idea behind Bakery Buddy — approve, don't operate.

Go Outside and Stop Playing Video Games

When I was a kid, the refrain was always the same: go outside and stop playing video games.

I mostly ignored it. Then I grew up and traded the games for a job that also happened at a desk — building software as a product leader. Same chair, different screen.

This week I did something that would have sounded like a lie to my ten-year-old self. I built and shipped part of my product from a mountain bike trail.

How that's even possible now

I'm building Bakery Buddy for my wife Lindsay's cake studio, and lately the shape of the work has changed. I don't sit and type every line anymore. I point an AI agent at a goal, it does the heavy lifting, and it stops to ask me before it does anything that matters.

That last part is the whole trick. The agent works on its own, but it checks in. Which means my actual job — deciding what's right, approving the next step — fits in the gaps of a bike ride. I get to the top of a climb, catch my breath, glance at my phone, approve the request, and send it down the next trail. By the time I'm back at the top, there's another decision waiting.

I'm not gone, I'm just not chained to the desk

Let me be honest about what this is and isn't. I'm not tossing my phone in a creek and letting a robot run my company. I read what it's doing. I catch the things it gets wrong. Approving isn't nothing — it's the judgment part, and it's the part I'll never hand off.

What changed isn't that the human left the loop. It's that the human doesn't have to be sitting at a keyboard to be in the loop. The heavy, repetitive lifting runs while I'm outside. The decisions come to me wherever I am.

When it still needs a desk

Not everything works this way. Hard, from-scratch design still needs me at a real screen with real focus. The trail is great for the steady stream of small decisions — approve this, fix that, yes ship it, no try again — not for the deep architectural thinking. But that steady stream is most of the work. So the ratio has flipped: less of my day is spent staring at a screen, more of it is spent living, with the screen in my pocket for when it needs me.

Why this matters more than a nice afternoon

Here's the part that isn't just about me getting a bike ride in. The entire reason I'm building Bakery Buddy is to give small business owners their time back — so Lindsay can bake instead of drowning in five different tools. There's something fitting about the way I build it giving me my own time back too. The tool and the way I make the tool believe the same thing: let the software handle the grind so the person can go live their life.

The kids were right

Go outside and stop playing video games. Turns out that was good advice. I was just about 25 years early on the technology that would let me actually take it.

I still do the work. I just do more of it in a helmet now.