• /
    • Archives /
  • November 30, 1999

Archives For November 30, 1999

Being nice does pay off

August 11, 2013
c/o cakespy.com

c/o cakespy.com

Let’s start off by stating some obvious facts:

  • In terms of guilty pleasures, I am hard pressed to name anything that tastes better than a Goodrich malt. (If you’re not blessed to live in one of the Midwestern states where Goodrich operates, I seriously feel bad for you because you are missing out on an experience that feels like driving with the top down, playing hooky, and skydiving all rolled into one.)
  • If someone placed a free Goodrich malt on the opposite side from where I stood across a six-lane freeway during rush hour traffic and told me I could have it if I made it to the prize unscathed like a human Frogger, I would take on that challenge without a second thought.
  • Goodrich malts have the consistency of wet cement, making them impossible to drink fast enough to suffer a brain freeze. They are a bit pricey for the portion size so you learn to savor every last sip.
  • Goodrich and Subway made a business decision to combine forces years ago, which resulted in them sharing store space and staff. It’s much easier and less messy for a typical worker to make a quick sandwich over a slow churned malt.

Knowing all of this upfront helps set the scene for my story.

I was on my way back into town after working at an event in a city that’s 2.5 hours from my home. My sole goal was to coast the last 15-20 miles because I didn’t want to have to stop for gas and I knew my tank was getting low, but the caution light came on to let me know my luck had run out.

I pulled into a gas station that’s connected to a Goodrich/Subway store and thought to myself, “Screw it. I need a malt.”

9:35 PM people. The best time of day to consume a gazillion calories. But, remember, I am a human Frogger when it comes to my obsession with the end prize.

Play Frogger at Classic Games Arcade

So, I walked in and made eye contact with the kid who got stuck working the late shift. He asked if he could make me a sandwich and I responded with the five words I know every Goodrich/Subway worker hates.

“I’d actually like a malt.”

Not only did I want a malt, I wanted a chocolate one with marshmallow added. HIGH MAINTENANCE HEIDI.

After my demands left my lips, I started to apologize like I was breaking up with him.

“I’m sorry. I know malts totally suck to make. But I need one so badly.”

We shared some laughs over the next several minutes as he affirmed they are a total pain to make and that people who request butterscotch malts or caramel to be added to their malts are the absolute worst. He also said they’d be 10 times easier to make if they had the right supplies – including those slick dome-shaped lids with the bigger openings on top like gas stations use for their slushies. I agreed with all his points and told him he should contact the big-wigs at Goodrich and share that idea with them. “Who knows?” I said, “You may end up with some big bonus for your brilliant idea.”

As he approached the cash register he said to me, “Well, you’re cool. How about $0.54?”

That same malt should have cost me around $4. Needless to say, he and I were no longer broken up. He was back in my heart to stay.

My life theory is – be nice without expecting anything in return. When your niceness pays off, it’s like having extra marshmallow unexpectedly added to your chocolate malt.

Created by Heidi Woodard

In Calorie counting, Just for Fun , , , , ,
permalink

Being a runner shows commitment in every aspect of life

May 6, 2013

Let me live on the top of my mountain for just one post. Basking in the sunlight of the “post-race high.”

https://www.facebook.com/foottogroundalot

Credit: Rather Be Running

I completed a Half Marathon yesterday. It was my third time running 13.1 miles. And I completed this feat three consecutive years.

Boo ya, baby.

Back when I created my my LinkedIn profile a little over year ago, it looked a little weird to have Running listed as one of my skills. According to everything I read about LinkedIn, the tool is supposed to be an online resumé of sorts, allowing people to catch a glimpse of your professional career – a snapshot of what you’ve accomplished.

Naturally then, when it came time to list those things I felt I excelled at, I thought Running should be included in my repertoire even though it was a personal versus professional endeavor.

Every runner (or weight lifter, or cyclist, or swimmer) finds a way to stick with their routine through the good and the bad and discovers new ways to mix it up to avoid pain, boredom, and burn out.

I’d be willing to bet the majority of 9-to-5’ers I know working in corporate America run the risk of suffering those same consequences.

Again, this could just be my endurance euphoria speaking, but I have better clarity today for having set and surpassed a goal.

Knowing that I had in it me to follow through on a commitment I made to myself months ago feels amazeballs (thanks to my cousin, Jen, for that phrase).

And it proves I will work hard. In my family. In my workplace. In life.

The results of sacrifice, when you can truly step back and appreciate them, will always overshadow temporary pain.

Oh, and I’ve already re-absorbed more calories than I burned in the past 24 hours, and I wish I could say they were all from fruits and veggies, but…come on…you know me better than that. Here’s to killer burgers and pancakes!

Created by Heidi Woodard

In Fitness, Inspiration, Running, Strength, Stress release , , , , , , , , ,
permalink

Admitting powerlessness to my children

April 15, 2013

file000177748500

When I was a child, I remember learning about the radio replay of “War of the Worlds” and how narrator Orson Welles had listeners actually believing the world was being invaded by aliens. The year was 1938.

I guarantee I would have been one of the gullible people who believed what she heard was fact.

And I would have been scared as hell.

But the fuel of my fear would have been a faceless boogie man. I would have been scared of the stuff that inspires great ghost stories and of the imagery that Alfred Hitchcock presents.

Fortunately, like the child who’s afraid of what potentially lurks in her closet at night, I could flip on the light switch in my brain and make it all go away.

The 117th Boston Marathon happened today. Over twenty thousand runners raced in ideal mid-50s temperatures.

At the 4 hour, 9 minute mark of the race, an explosion detonated and blasted shrapnel into both bystanders and runners alike. About 10 seconds later, a second explosion and more inexplicable carnage followed.

In that moment, life was stolen from some and life for others would forever be stained.

The injured ranged in age from 3 to 62 years. One of the fatalities: an 8-year old child.

I learned about the 8-year old’s death before sending my own 9-year old off to baseball practice.

The unfolding of this event arose a sickeningly familiar feeling within me.

It took me back to September 11, 2001, when I wrote a journal to my oldest whom I carried in my belly at the time, trying to explain the World Trade Center bombings…but knowing I never really could.

It took me back to December 5, 2007, when a high school boy strolled into Von Maur within Westroads Mall in my hometown and meticulously shot and killed eight people, wounded four, and then took his own life. I thought of the parents who were shopping for their own children that day in preparation for Christmas.

It took me back to December 14, 2012, when 20 children and six adults were fatally shot at Sandy Hook Elementary School. I fought the urge to pick my kids up early from school that day, knowing that maintaining a routine was important – as was letting their teachers know how much they mean to me.

I listened to A.M. radio today for updates. I hate listening to A.M. radio. Yet, that seems to be my go-to instinct as I’m collecting my thoughts during times when my mind races about the hows and whys surrounding such tragedy.

I simply can’t come to terms with the fact that these events aren’t radio-staged broadcasts. I can’t change the channel to make the boogie man go away.

That realization hurts my heart in ways I can’t explain.

If my children can live with the knowledge that I’d do everything in my power to protect them, I guess that has to be enough.

Written by Heidi Woodard

In Awareness, Kids, Love, Radio, Running , , , , , , , ,
permalink