Icons
We're constantly surrounded by icons these days, as our televisions, Web browsers, digital thermometers, smartphones, and computers all attempt to distill complicated data into simplistic graphical elements. Perhaps the most prevalent icon set is the weather set, consisting of simple drawings combining sun, clouds, rain, wind, and snow. For cyclists, who often need to plan ahead in order to set aside ride time, the deceptiveness of these weather icons can be infuriating.
As I write this, I am looking at a 5-day forecast in my browser, which shows three days of rain and two days of sun. Looking at this gallery of horrors, I could deduce that the next 72 hours will be predominantly rain-filled, with only days 4 and 5 having any chance of possessing the right weather for a long ride, assuming I want to avoid getting wet. However, pushing further into the forecast, I find that actually the number of hours with likely rain to be less than 20, or less than 1/3 of the hours presented as rainy via iconography. This is akin to someone saying that you will be asleep for the next 3 days just because you sleep 8 hours each night.
Yet, people take these icons to heart. I have heard many people groan at the sight of a rainy cloud icon over a weekend day, only to learn by drilling into the data that the rain is a) for a small portion of the day, or b) for the region but not for the person's particular locality (rain to the north, etc.). Some defense mechanism informs the creation of these icons, as if the news they convey should be the most pessimistic possible so that the meteorologists can't be accused of presenting a forecast of false hope.
The oversimplification of forecast presentation is perverse, given the vast amounts of data about the weather now available instantaneously. For cyclists, this facade of icon simplicity is just noise they have to fight through to get to the gold of the hourly forecast. It is misleading, however, and almost comical that we now depend on cartoons of the weather for our first-glance assessment of what's to come.
These icons are more powerful than they deserve to be. I have even seen people check these icons, see sun or rain, and conclude that was the weather, only to look out the window and be confused at how the actual weather -- the actual weather, now -- doesn't match the icon in front of them. How could it be sunny out when the icon shows rain? Well, because it's now 2 p.m. and the rain was for the morning commute, but the lazy icon format only allows one icon a day, and it's always the grimmest one . . . It's as if we've forgotten that the world is out of our control, that the world is not a cartoon manifestation of our imaginations.
Luckily, cyclists are data-driven most of the time, wanting the precision of miles to the 1/10th, at least. Imagine if all your ride data were eradicated and you were just presented with a simple green circle for a good ride, an orange triangle for an average ride, and a red square for a poor ride. Icons have their place, but when it comes to expressing complex data over time -- whether that is a cycling event or the weather -- they are not icons of virtue.
As I write this, I am looking at a 5-day forecast in my browser, which shows three days of rain and two days of sun. Looking at this gallery of horrors, I could deduce that the next 72 hours will be predominantly rain-filled, with only days 4 and 5 having any chance of possessing the right weather for a long ride, assuming I want to avoid getting wet. However, pushing further into the forecast, I find that actually the number of hours with likely rain to be less than 20, or less than 1/3 of the hours presented as rainy via iconography. This is akin to someone saying that you will be asleep for the next 3 days just because you sleep 8 hours each night.
Yet, people take these icons to heart. I have heard many people groan at the sight of a rainy cloud icon over a weekend day, only to learn by drilling into the data that the rain is a) for a small portion of the day, or b) for the region but not for the person's particular locality (rain to the north, etc.). Some defense mechanism informs the creation of these icons, as if the news they convey should be the most pessimistic possible so that the meteorologists can't be accused of presenting a forecast of false hope.
The oversimplification of forecast presentation is perverse, given the vast amounts of data about the weather now available instantaneously. For cyclists, this facade of icon simplicity is just noise they have to fight through to get to the gold of the hourly forecast. It is misleading, however, and almost comical that we now depend on cartoons of the weather for our first-glance assessment of what's to come.
These icons are more powerful than they deserve to be. I have even seen people check these icons, see sun or rain, and conclude that was the weather, only to look out the window and be confused at how the actual weather -- the actual weather, now -- doesn't match the icon in front of them. How could it be sunny out when the icon shows rain? Well, because it's now 2 p.m. and the rain was for the morning commute, but the lazy icon format only allows one icon a day, and it's always the grimmest one . . . It's as if we've forgotten that the world is out of our control, that the world is not a cartoon manifestation of our imaginations.
Luckily, cyclists are data-driven most of the time, wanting the precision of miles to the 1/10th, at least. Imagine if all your ride data were eradicated and you were just presented with a simple green circle for a good ride, an orange triangle for an average ride, and a red square for a poor ride. Icons have their place, but when it comes to expressing complex data over time -- whether that is a cycling event or the weather -- they are not icons of virtue.
posted by Recycled Cyclist | 6:52 PM
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