So I know what you’re thinking… “No, no. It actually DOES suck to run outside in the morning.”

And, okay. That’s fair. But just hear me out.

I mean, really. Doing anything in the morning is pretty brutal. I have mornings when I think that the most heroic thing I could muster the energy to pull off is to NOT hit the snooze button a fourth time.

But now.

I’m fat.

I spend 10 hours a day in an 8×8 cube with an unlimited supply of coffee, granola bars, and trail mix. (No, not the healthy kind. The kind with m&m’s. The kind that is eaten in this order: m&m’s, almonds, peanuts… toss the raisins.)

And while I SWEAR everyday (as I drag my tired ass out of bed in a groggy mess towards the coffee pot) that, “I WILL workout after work today. Today it WILL happen.”

… I know there’s a rather significant chance this may not come to fruition.

I even put my work-out clothes in my back seat. An ineffective gesture of hope towards completing this task.

But at 7:30pm, when it’s dark outside and I’m leaving my office, I only want to get to my couch, tivo and wine glass.

So it has to be the morning. It’s the only time of the day that is unscheduled.

And, oh my gosh is it miserable. MISERABLE!

Tired. (Pissed off that I’m even awake.) Achy. Unmotivated. COLD.

….and then after about a mile or so. Something happens. And it become less sucky.

No, really. I swear. And I am not a morning person OR a runner.

SO. Here’s my commitment. I’m going to write a few blogs about the various reasons why it doesn’t totally suck to run outside in the morning.

BUT.

I’m committing to write ONLY on the mornings that I actually ran.

So this way- I have extra motivation to pull it the heck together.

I ran in the dark this morning. AND. I didn’t even touch a granola bar all day.

And yes. It partially sucked.

But not totally.

More to come….

Yeah. Me too.

Its always the same. Big idea. Lots of excitement. Lots of motivation… and then.

WACK!

I get jumped from behind- a la East Side San Jose.

The infamous band of bullies: Complacency, Busyness, Exhaustion, Stress, and Self-Doubt.

Admittedly, they’ve been kicking my ass. (Again.)

Rally caps on folks. I’ve been a little off my game, they’ve had me against the ropes. But I’m making a comeback.

Soda stealing. Random, I know.

BUT.

I have a friend who works for his family’s eatery. The kind where you order your lunch at the counter, take your number back to your table and fill up your own drink at the soda fountain.

The thing is- EVERYDAY he’s got a story of someone ordering water and then hittin’ up the lemon-aid or the Diet Coke. And there’s no profile for the typical soda thief, either. No, no… you can’t spot this one. All shapes and super-sizes.

One day it’s the white collar business guy who after being informed that, “Oh. Um. We actually charge for Sprite…” arrogantly throws a waded up 2 bucks in the direction of my friend and mumbles “Pssh, keep the change.” (‘Cause all of a sudden 2 bucks ain’t nothin’ for this high-roller.)

Another day it’s the sweet little old couple who, “oops- didn’t realize…” (Mmmm-hmmm.)

And the next day it’s some guy who claims he has diabetes and needs sugar- STAT. (Hard to argue with medical necessity.)

So what does one do?

Punish the non-free loaders by raising prices for everyone?
But this is more about principle than profit.

The cups are already totally different. (Small clear ones for water- standard waxy ones for pop.)

And no, the fountain can’t be moved behind the counter- too complicated with all the hoses and carbon, etc… and it really would impact productivity.

I suppose they could sell bottled water only, but again- that punishes the innocent.

My suggestion is Marshal Law.

I say put up a bell. Customers who catch other customers stealing soda just ring the big cow bell… and point. (I think pointing would be a nice little addition) Perhaps an employee with a handy Polaroid camera can also snap the offender’s picture to post on a Cheap-Skate Wall of Shame.

…And maybe everyone could break into song. A little jingle of sorts. Like when the guys at Cold Stone get a tip. Only the goal of this jingle is to humiliate the culprit, not the employee.

Thoughts? I mean. Really. What would you do?

I know there will be much richness in our lives- there will be blessings and failures beyond what we can imagine from the crossroads of almost 30.

I get it.

We’ll have hopes and dreams… and then they’ll change.

There will be heartbreak, babies, and long winters.

We’ll have jobs and friends and then lose some of both.

There will be good wine, speeding tickets, huge mistakes and silly adventures. The mundane and the insane will mingle together for the perfect package of trail mix to fuel our perseverance.

And when there’s nothing else to say… When emotions overwhelm in clutter and nonsense and our thoughts rest, exhausted, on the border of apathy…

When we look back with perfect insight- or forward with perfect doubt- and the “should’ve’s” and “could’ve’s” and “if’s” all unfurl in giggles and shrugged shoulders- it’s all we’ve got: “It is what it is”

It’s the only thing we can said when we’re all out of ideas and excuses.

“It is what it is.”

I sat with an old friend on a park bench in Los Gatos this last Sunday afternoon. It was perfection- gift wrapped.

We watched kids play in the fountain and warm up by laying on the sidewalk. We talked about being young and playing tag and all those amazing moments that we inevitably forget.

I sat there thinking that those little guys will never even remember this one summer day when they played in a park- and it’s a day that will forever stay with me.

The best thing I heard that afternoon was this second hand wisdom: “Life is long. So don’t worry about it.”

Because at the end of the day… “It is what it is.”

“When God loves a creature he wants the creature to know the highest happiness and the deepest misery He wants him to know all that being alive can bring. That is his best gift. There is no happiness save in understanding the whole.”
-Thornton Wilder

A Blog…. Why, again, did I think it was a good idea to have a blog?

Wistful ideas of grandeur clouded my head, I suppose.

Aaaaaand now. Winds of responsibility have quickly blown those clouds towards the coast of What-The-Hell-Was-I-Thinking.

2 weeks ago, I had big blogging plans. Huge. I was going to impart wisdom and witt and… whatever.

I decided that I have a bottle neck in my head that’s preventing all the genius from dripping down into my eager-to-type-fingers.

Perhaps it’s the tension in my back that had caused this obstruction? I admittedly fail frequently in my attempts to sit in my desk all ergonomically correct– as suggested by the worker’s comp rep the insurance company sent along to protect us from having to file a claim. (mmm-hhmm)

While I was lamenting (and rationalizing) my inability to articulate my thoughts, find time to blog, etc, etc… I spoke with a friend who has been active in the fight to find a cure for Autism. He told be about about an Autistic girl named Carly who has been able to communicate by typing. Held captive by her body, Carly is able to express to the outside world, what’s been going on in hers.

Smack!.

In your face Humility.

I’m done lamenting.

Check out her story…. It’s way better than mine.

After a successful letter writing campaign* to Whole Foods, I’ve decided I should have a blog.

(*okay… it was 1 email. But still. Totally successful.)

Who knows? It’s likely a fleeting notion- like wanting a pony, or playing the drums…

But maybe not.

Maybe I’m the next Scobilizer?

(See that? Already posting links.)

So, here’s the (abridged) letter that prompted change at WholePaycheck and subsequently led to this potentially bad-ass blog:

I’m a super-loyal, green-bag-carrying Whole Foods fan. Really.

And I’m not a big whiner. I mean, I took one for the team when y’all stopped offering fat-free ginger cookies, and quietly dealt with the worse-than-a-rest-stop-off-Hwy-5 bathroom conditions. (NICE improvement on that, by the way!)

But today.
My favorite lunch time tradition: tainted.

As I bit into my incredibly well-crafted salad-bar creation I tasted a straaaange(?), smoky (hmm…starting to frown), in-ter-es-ting-ly chewy (head cocked sideways) unknown invader in my mouth…. (Insert gag reflex here)

I did that gross pull-half-eaten-food-out-of-your-mouth thing, only to to discover that a rogue piece of (some kind of meat) made it’s way into my cottage cheese. (gagging again as I recall the fiasco)

Could we maybe put a little bit of thoughtful strategy into the salad bar arrangement?

I like to toss some cottage cheese in my salad from time to time. But, on several occasions I’ve had to skip that entire section of tasty additions because the nearby meat products have sadly splashed beyond their little compartments into the non-meat stuff.

Here’s my, future salad saving plea: I’d ask if we could just consider a little rearranging perhaps? Maybe give meats a separate section with different serving utensils (people like to mix and match- contributing to the contamination)…

You do rock.
But- seriously.
I can’t handle any more mystery meat surprises in my leafy green goodness.

Thanks guys!
Robyn

UPDATE: Like I said. It was fixed- the next day. And now I think I have super powers. Sweet.