Bigger and Faster Only Matters with Monster Trucks

My high school weight room had the words, “Bigger, Faster, Stronger” emblazoned across the walls in huge, paint-stenciled letters. It was a motto for the football team’s weight-training program, but the remaining 99.4 percent of the student body that wasn’t on the team also was subjected to this ridiculous mantra in gym class. Incidentally, it’s also the name of a 2008 documentary film about the use of anabolic steroids as performance-enhancing drugs. Draw your own conclusions.

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I remember thinking that we’d probably be better off as a student body (and a society) if we adorned the walls with something like, “Smarter, Kinder, Friendlier.” But alas, I attended a microcosm of Varsity Blues where athletics—particularly football—ruled the ranks.

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I’ve always had a hard time with the mentality that we must always push for more, more, more. Bigger is better. Faster is cooler. Stronger is power.

It makes sense in theory, especially if you drive monster trucks or are assembling an army, but it often takes more strength to know when to step back from a situation than it does to persevere to a dangerous point. The best athletes are those who work tirelessly, but also listen to their bodies and take breaks when they need to recover.

This is a part of yoga that I love the most. Yoga teaches that it’s important to reassess how you’re feeling in every class, regardless of whether you’re a rookie or an expert practitioner. Some days things aren’t in synch, or we’re tired, or healing from an injury, and we need to sit out some of the more challenging portions. No matter the reason, yoga embraces the philosophy that it takes more strength to know when take a break than it does to push yourself carelessly.

But the ability to discern when to keep going and when to hang out in child’s pose is tough. We’re wired from a young age to strive for everything we can imagine, or risk the F word. For years I was terrified of failing or not meeting the expectations of others. It impacted how I made big decisions and caused me a lot of unneeded stress.

Among the blessings of getting older is an awareness that failure is far more complicated that a simple win or loss. It’s just a sign that another way or a different time might be better.

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Giving Thanks on Mother’s Day

Mom,

Thank you for showing me what it means to be a strong woman. To speak up when needed and never get pushed around. I rarely hesitate to speak my mind–sometimes to an excess–but it’s saved me more than once and I value having the confidence to do this without fear of what others may think.

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Thank you for not letting me wear short shorts or skimpy tank tops in high school, even when I threw fits and swore up and down that everyone else’s parents let them do it. I see young girls today wearing clothes that are far too revealing and now I get it. I know that I can flatter my body without actually revealing it.

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Thank you for teaching me to appreciate the arts. For taking me to the theater, symphony and ballet, and encouraging my pursuits of art and music.

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Thank you for recognizing that as a quiet child, horseback riding was my passion and the key to my confidence. You gave your time, money and likely your sanity to support me and travel with me; looking back I can’t imagine what a commitment this was and I will always value your sacrifices.

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Thank you for being my cheerleader. You’ve always been the first to help celebrate my successes and it’s made them even sweeter.

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Thank you for getting mad at me when I did dumb things as a teenager and said hurtful things out of anger (or hormones??). Without consequences I wouldn’t have learned to be accountable.

Thank you for letting me cry when my heart was broken, and for sharing my joy when I fell in love.

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Thank you for loving Jim and welcoming him into our family with all your heart.

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Thank you for not abandoning Dan and me when we were the world’s most annoying teenagers and threatened to kill each other on a regular basis. You told us we’d be friends one day and you were right.

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Thank you for making the job of being our mom your greatest joy and focus. You’ve never failed to nurture us, support us and love us unconditionally. Your love is a gift I will always cherish and will undoubtedly pass on to my children.

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Kids don’t even know what film is.

Yesterday I saw a commercial for Sprint that stated, among other things, that more photos are taken on iPhones everyday than on any other camera. I don’t have a clue how this statistic was substantiated, and sort of feel bad that it’s anyone’s job to figure that out.

I picture a bunch of camera researchers (you know that job exists) sitting around a conference room in glasses and white lab coats reviewing pages and pages of data. Desperation engulfs the room as the team fails to draw any factual conclusions. Then quietly, one brave soul simply shrugs and meekly whispers, “Come on you guys, it’s obvious. No one uses their regular cameras anymore. Kids don’t even know what film is.”

It’s a cultural pandemic and I LOVE it.

If you’d told me back in high school that within a decade my cell would fit in my pocket and take better digital photos than anything I’d find at Best Buy, I would not have believed you. But behold, the smartphone!

Anyway.

I take photos obsessively, and the world keeps giving me more ways to forcefully share them with others who may or may not want to see them. So whose fault is it, really? Those filters on Instagram aren’t going to use themselves, for crying out loud. We’ve been subliminally coerced into hyper-documenting our lives under the guise of an artistic pursuit.

I love documenting the little things that make life entertaining and unique. I’m home sick today and started sorting through the  hundreds of photos on my iPhone. I came across some great memories and hysterical moments I’d forgotten about.

Here’s a selection of what I found today:

1. Tomorrow is Michelle’s birthday. I sent her flowers. The florist decided to change my name from ‘Jess’ to ‘Jeff’ on the card, and this photo was how she told me.

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2. This text conversation that occurred after a recent cross-country flight. I’m creepy, I know that. But still.

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3. On Cinco de Mayo I ran into the Dos Equis man at the grocery store.

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4. Facetime brings the iPhone’s camera goodness to new heights. Like, for instance, when you and your friend force your dogs to interact while thousands of miles apart, because that’s normal.

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5. The moment when we understood we’d made a poor choice in restaurants, because we were the only two people in a completely empty dining room.

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6. Neighborhood lemonade stands that my husband insists we support.

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7. Realizing we may have over prepared for a three-night camping trip because no people could fit in the vehicle.

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8. The all-knowing wisdom of Words with Friends #yankeessuck

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9. The art of healthy snacking.

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10. Coffee predators.

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11. Looking back while moving forward.

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12. Dogs who offer moral and physical support.

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13. Blood donation entertainment and distraction.

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The Glorious Things Money Can Buy

I’m thinking there’s something going on with Groupon.

Mid-life crisis, perhaps, or pressure at work?

The troubling part is that the items below were all recommended to me based on my account preferences. Not sure what that says about me or my preferences.

The good news is that for $56.94 you can have all six.

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Drunk on thinking.

Every so often, it’s good to be reminded how much you don’t know.

I spent last week attending work events in different cities. Topics spanned from the rise of women in leadership to the influence of technology on corporate training. Now that it’s over, my head is spinning like a hamster wheel.

I’m drunk on thinking. Inspired and overwhelmed.

But this week was my favorite kind of learning—when the information comes so quickly you have to consciously choose the most important pieces to soak up or you’ll miss it all. It makes me picture a sweepstakes where someone is stuck in a clear booth with fans blowing around hundreds of dollar bills. Walking out with even a few bucks makes you a winner, but there’s sense of remorse for what you couldn’t quite hold onto.

I worry that in a few days my mental momentum will fade, and when I’m reminded of it at a later date, I’ll regret not transforming it into something worthwhile. In the meantime, I’ll keep plowing through the mess of miscellaneous notes and business cards I’ve accumulated, trying to figure out my next step.

A silent understanding that we’re all in this together.

It’s not all that ironic that I ended up in Boston so soon after the marathon bombings. A business trip was planned months ago and I couldn’t wait to squeeze in a visit with friends and family in my hometown. But now that I’m here, in a community just beginning to process the unthinkable, the city I love is less familiar.

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The energy is subdued, and people approach each other differently. But instead of showing fear or uncertainty–reactions one might expect after a terrifying event–I’ve seen only compassion and love. A silent understanding that we’re all in this together.

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Anger and grief are present too–hopefully those will fade in time–but the overwhelming sentiment is togetherness. People are united, the city is recovering.

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Everywhere you look there are signs, memorials and outpourings of support. Pairs of running shoes tied with personal notes and left in symbolic places. Drawings from children posted on street signs. Thank you posters outside police and fire stations. Businesses, restaurants and places of worship show support through displays and donations.

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My heart is heavy, but also hopeful; a give and take I imagine is here to stay. But one thing is clear: the good doesn’t just outweigh the bad, it’s knocked it on its face and walked right over it.photo_14

There are none of the bandwagon-type reactions you sometimes see after a tragedy. People aren’t clammoring for media interviews or laying claims to those most affected. Everyone just seems to be here for each other, connected and respectful.

The way this city has come together takes your breath away. Things may never be the same, but they will be alright.