Doc Hopper: (appearing from behind a billboard showing
a bucket of “Doc Hopper’s French Fried Frog Legs”)
Ha-ha-ha-haaa! You got the picture, boy! You see what I mean?
Kermit the Frog, symbol of Doc Hopper’s French Fried Frog Legs!
Isn’t that splendid? Just splendid! Just take a look at it.”

Kermit: “All I can see are millions of frogs on tiny crutches.”

—

I ran today on the Just Another Happy Dog loop, a faithful reproduction of the Across the Years course. Mile and a half, clockwise, two water stops, flushies, sidewalk with a smattering of asphalt and dirt. Yes, asphalt and dirt can smatter.

This course has one thing the ATY doesn’t: An oasis.

The fountain sits in a shady spot next to the xeriscape garden, a beautiful interruption of the harsh desert. Birds hang out there; overheated patrons of the dog park next door jump to cool off; cyclists pause in the shade before launching back into battle. I splash my face and dip my hat on each lap. Heaven.

Using an AI search, I find that it was designed by landscape architect Christine Ten Eyck. “It represents a symbol of abundance and serves as a reminder of sustainability and water conservation in the desert,” the site says.

Circling the water on the rusty steel surface are the words: “The frog does not drink up the pond in which he lives.”

Why do so many people live in this place where nobody was meant to exist? Where 100 degree days are considered cool? Where water is a commodity that can’t possibly keep up with growth? Where sustainability is not sustainable at all?

I love the desert. The saguaro forests, the lizards that pause on the trail to decide whether you’re predator or idiot, the mountains looming on the horizon, the Rickie Lee Jones skies overhead. But at what cost?

I worry a lot (I’m a worrier) about AI and data centers and the unfathomable growth that eventually will surely kill us all, either from exhausted resources or an out-of-control cyber coup.

I think about this as I run past this fountain, the half-mile marker on the course. It sits atop a 6 million gallon water reservoir. Remember when 6 million gallons seemed like a lot?

I came home and spent some time with AI trying to see just how ominous things are. It’s funny because AI seems to feel like it’s ratting itself out. It says Arizona, which looks to become a major hub for data centers, is planning roughly five times as much data-center electrical capacity as it currently operates, while doing so in one of the most water-stressed states in the country.

My AI source (I have promised anonymity but his name rhymes with Rat Pee TV) says the data-center sector could be consuming FIVE BILLION gallons of water annually as the projects now under construction come online. He says data centers in the Phoenix area are now using 385 MILLION gallons of water a year, give or take an Evian bottle.

Or to put in in non-mathematical terms, we’re screwed.

I worry about AI in the same way that I worry about all the other ways I help to destroy the planet. My endless 2-liter Diet Coke bottle collection, my 30-minute drive in a fossil fuel vehicle to run up a mountain, my addiction to AAA batteries. Things I could do without, but do not.

Does it matter if I use AI? Is there any point in taking a stand when you would be the guy in Tiananmen Square planting himself in front of the tanks? Is an exercise in futility really an exercise at all? And if it is, why doesn’t Garmin record it?

The Fit PA Fancy Pants Training Plan© uses AI. As does pretty much everything else in my life at this point. Would it make a difference if I refused?

I guess not. Every facet of existence will be sucked into this abyss soon. Not much to do but start buying gallons of water and stashing them in the closet next to our toilet paper collection. (Note to self: Stockpile chocolate for Mo. She will be crabby when the world is ending and in need of a Hershey’s fix.)

I try to pin down Rat Pee TV on just how much water the conversation we are having is using. He takes on the persona of a Republican trying to pinpoint the current location of Mitch McConnell, before eventually deciding it’s likely much less than a bottle of water, as if that’s a triumph of sorts.

What to do? Edward Abbey would say blow the joint up. “Why is it that the destruction of something created by humans is called vandalism, yet the destruction of something created by God is called development?” he asked. But then he wanted to ban all vehicles at the Grand Canyon, and I’m too lazy to walk all the way in. Yay for the bulldozers plowing new roads in my beloved Big Bend. Assemble the Monkey Wrench Gang!

I always fancied myself as being a true believer, the person who would take a stand against the atrocities of the world in my words and action.

But these days, I’m a tired old man. I like Diet Coke a lot. And using AI to yell at me about running too slow is easier than having a conscience.

“The frog does not drink up the pond in which he lives,” the fountain tells me.

All I can see are millions of frogs on tiny crutches.

I suppose it’s only fitting that Coach Kim, the crux of my angst, gets the last word. And for less cost than a bottle of water!