Saturday, December 26, 2015

Not Measuring, Needing to Know, or Noticing Stickers

Blog Pause Day 1:  I love celebrating the pending New Year by first looking back over the past one.  For these final days of 2015, I'll be culling some of my favorite posts from the past year and sharing three each day.  Today, we revisit three "nots" -- not measuring, not needing to know, and not noticing some (ahem) child-generated vandalism.  

 Enjoy -- and thank you so much for joining me this year!

The Benefits of Not Measuring

Several miles into a recent long training run, my cell phone battery died, not only leaving me without any music (my running playlist -- a mixture of 80's dance music, motivational movie soundtracks, and worship songs -- is fondly titled "Holy Epic Dance Party"), but also without any indication of how far or how fast I was running.  The reassuring voice that regularly speaks through my headphones with half-mile updates on my progress and speed fell silent, and I continued listening only to the steady tread of my feet on the pavement.

When I returned home and my husband asked how my run went, I didn't know how to answer.  I couldn't calculate the exact distance I had run.  I didn't know if I had sustained a good pace. 

How was my run?  Well, I had gone out and done it.  (Continue reading here.)


We Don't Always Need to Know

While in college, I once sketched a flow chart to help me better understand my social life. 

Really. 

Overthinking is my thing, a peculiar disposition to make sense, diagnose, and infuse meaning into every circumstance around me.  In its best manifestation, I remember details and observe nuances that others might miss.  In its worst form, my thoughts (and my shifting emotions about those thoughts) hijack my internal balance.

In light of this, if you're a fellow overthinker, a muller-over of everything, remember this:  (Continue reading here.)
 

Why, I'd Never Have Stickers (#Transparent Tuesday)

A few months ago I noticed a car in a parking lot.  One of its back windows was covered with stickers, an inside job perpetrated by some child who clearly never wanted to have a direct view of any scenery.

In that moment, I silently congratulated myself on the status of my minivan.  I really did.  Our van certainly wasn't clean, but come on, it wasn't wallpapered from the inside with stickers.  Have some pride, people.  Stickers just don't go on car windows.  Not on my watch, at least.  (Continue reading here.)


See you tomorrow for Day 2 of the 2015 Blog Pause!

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