Growing up, foods were either “good” or “fattening.” Sometimes, I would reach for a cookie and my dad would say “do you really need that cookie” while other times he would be the first to scoop the ice cream after dinner. Pink packages of Sweet ‘n Low were a staple on our kitchen table, I was put on my first official diet when I was eight years old and I will never forget the day my sister looked at my legs -- strong from hours of figure skating practice -- and said “you have calves like a football player.” She didn’t mean it as a compliment.

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When did we become convinced that only big things count? If we’re not moving mountains, saving the world or transforming our lives, then why bother? We need to bother with, recognize and honor the small things, the tiny steps, the barely perceptible improvements for two related, but different, reasons.

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I have an idea. What if, instead of looking for flaws in our bodies, we practice gratitude for the strength in our bodies?

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The idea of a “No-Rules Day” began one dreary February day when my kids were young. It was winter break, we were trapped at home and I was tired of being the screen, food, and shower police. So, when the kids got up, I announced that it was a “No-Rules Day.” They looked at me, confused. “Does that mean I can have ice cream for breakfast?” my son asked. “Yup,” I replied. And so, the day began.

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Anyone who watches television, reads magazines or scrolls social media could reasonably assume that the key to health, happiness and longevity is taking 10,000 steps each day. It is typically what it takes to close the rings on your smartwatch and lets you check the box of a job well done on your to-do list.

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I think I was probably really annoying in my 20s. Here’s why.

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Sometimes I get stuck in the middle of the project. Sometimes I slow down at the finish line. Sometimes I run out of steam, feel my creativity fade or, dare I say it, find my motivation wane. I’ve often wondered why that is and I’m convinced that it is a combination of things. I recently came across some research on the value of intrinsic versus extrinsic motivation when it comes to creativity that offers a bit of insight.

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Last week, I sent an email to a high-profile thought-leader asking if I could interview her for my new book. It was a reach -- she’s a bestselling author, hosts one of the most popular podcasts in the pod-o-sphere and is clearly a very, very busy person. I almost didn’t bother sending the email. But then I remembered a lesson that we have tried to teach our kids: you don’t ask, you don’t get.

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I'm late, I'm late

For a very important date.

No time to say hello, good-bye,

I'm late, I'm late, I'm late

I'm late.

The White Rabbit

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Here's a question: when did we become convinced that more is always better? That being busy is a badge of honor? That getting eight hours of sleep is optional and four will do the trick? That more money equals more happiness?

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In honor of International Podcast Day (and seriously, who made that a thing) and for anyone who is a podcast listener looking for some new podcasts to check out, I thought I’d share my fav five.

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When did we all get so serious? I know, living is serious business. We have work and obligations. We have mortgages and children. The people we love get sick. We get sick. The roof leaks. A jerk cuts us off on the way to work. We face global pandemics, and economic crises. We live in a world punctuated by racism, inequity and social injustice. We lose our job, we hate our job. We hurt our backs picking a box up off the floor or stare down a root canal. We experience loss and grief and heartbreak.

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I try to consider my days and weeks in terms of input and output. Not in the sense of measuring how much output I can possibly generate or how absolutely productive I can be, but rather with an eye to being sure that my output and my input are at least somewhat balanced. This week, I was out of balance.

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I was a first-year law student sitting in Civil Procedure trying to unravel the mysteries of federal jurisdiction when it occurred to me that it was too late for me to become an Olympic … well, an Olympic anything. And going to the Olympics seems like a really cool experience. And I was still so young. But I realized that it was too late for me to be an Olympian. Now, despite the fact that I’d always been active and athletic, I had never participated in any competitive sport. Never. Yet there I was, freaking out because it occurred to me that it was too late for me to become an Olympian. That door was closed to me and I have struggled to keep the feeling of closing doors at bay ever since.

I suspect, like me, you have sometimes felt that it is too late to start a new project or to chase a new dream.

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At this very second, there are families living on boats sailing across the Caribbean and in RVs exploring the midwest. There are women happily raising one kid, eight kids and no kids. There are moms who are breastfeeding and moms who are bottle feeding. Women writing books and writing grant proposals to raise money for the not-for-profit they dreamed of. Right this very second, there are women hiking in the mountains of Tibet and camping in the mountains of Colorado.

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Heard of burnout? Yup, most people have. But over the past few years, “brownout” has become recognized as not just a precursor to burnout but as a problem in its own right.

Though more subtle than burnout, brownout has many of the same symptoms and characteristics. You find yourself feeling overwhelmed and overworked. Things that typically bring you joy don’t seem to give you the same boost that they used to. Your productivity dips as does your interest, engagement, and energy.

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Next to my desk is a wooden tray, an old-fashioned “inbox.” It typically contains a random pile of papers that need attention, bills that need to be paid, forms that need to be filled out. I suspect you have a similar pile someplace in your life. Some of the tasks that need to get done in that inbox are simple and take just a moment. Fill out the permission slip for my daughter’s field trip to the aquarium, pay the $28 water bill. Others are far more complicated, overwhelming, intimidating or frightening. The unopened bill from a recent sonogram of the lump behind my ear that turned out to be nothing but the cost of which is not covered by insurance. The letter from the Federal Trademark office that it is time to renew our company’s trademark. The incomplete draft of my will.

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Throughout our lives, we are often told to keep going. Don’t quit. Hang in there. One step at a time. Just keep moving forward. And often that is good advice. Forward momentum is fantastic and sometimes all you can do is put one foot in front of the other and do the next thing. It is advice that has gotten me through more difficult times than I can count. But sometimes the magic is not found when you simply keep going, doing the same things, the same way, over and over again. Instead, often the magic is in continuing to learn, explore and discover. The magic is continuing to grow. The magic is in knowing that you can continue to grow.

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Throughout our lives, we are taught to work hard. We are told that success lies on the other side of hard work. And I've come to believe that is true: life has taught me that nothing comes easy and that consistent, hard work pays off in all kinds of ways.

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Walking up the stairs in my house the other day, I noticed a ball of dust and dog hair in the corner of a step. I saw it out of the corner of my eye and kept walking. Later that afternoon, I noticed it again. And then again the next morning. And one more time before I finally picked it up.

Now in my defense, the first time I had walked up the stairs, I had something in my hands and the second time, I was on my way to do something. But, if I’m going to be really honest, with you and with myself, I just didn’t feel like bending over and picking up the dustball.

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