My Thoughts

I had just crossed the seven-mile-marker. Ahead of me was a woman wearing a t-shirt with two pieces of thin cardboard taped to her back. The first spelled out the words, “For Dad.” And, the second said, “I miss you”

“Wow,” I thought as the pack rounded a corner. “Touching.”

I looked at the course ahead of me, and the people. A steep hill was approaching—so steep that it was forcing nearly half of runners to walk.

This race was just another in a string where I had skimped on training. I had no business running 26.2 miles that day. And, as I looked around me, I wasn’t the only runner who probably shouldn’t have been pushing the boundaries of excruciating pain.

“For Dad,” I thought, noticing the girl slow as she approached the hill. And then I thought, “I can run this—no matter how steep it is.”

Step after slow step, I dragged myself up that hill, passing the girl and numerous other walkers along the way. And, when I got to the top, my pride swelled. At least for a second I puffed up my chest. I glowed in victory…

And then, pain enveloped my body. Sweat gushed from my pores. My feet felt heavy. My lungs felt deflated. My stomach was turning. And, a split second before I thought I would topple over in agony, the girl in the shirt pranced by. “I miss you,” I thought, watching her seem to float ahead. “Touching.”

Okay, so beside the fact that my strategy and ego were flawed—allowing myself to exert all my energy to sprint up a hill—I still couldn’t help but wonder if that girl was being powered by words. “Apparently, if you tape some words to your back then you can power on through,” I thought. “Can words do that?”

Pondering that question carried me another mile, and one more after that. Pondering that question, I slugged my way through the hot sun. I pushed through a cramp in right calf muscle. And, I winced through a few more hills.

Now, at mile 17, I had pondered this question up-side-down and inside-out. Yet, I still hadn’t found an answer. “Can simple words power a person through pain?”

That’s when I noticed the girl again. She was noticeably slower in her pace. Her left shoulder seemed to hunch as if she was experiencing pain. I was gaining on her quickly—watching those pieces of cardboard and wondering just how much impact a few simple words can have on the human psyche.

The wind had picked up—blowing in from over the Pacific Ocean. And, it had decided to catch the corner of of one of the pieces of cardboard—the one that read, “For Dad.”

Flittering through the sky the cardboard twisted and twirled. It then floated gracefully as it neared the ground—rocking peacefully before it finally landed on the pavement. A few runners ran past the face-down piece of cardboard. But, as I approached, I knew I had to pick it up. I knew there was more to the story. I knew that the words—without context—weren’t quite as meaningful. And, they surely weren’t as powerful.

I stopped when I reached the cardboard. I picked it up, and then picked up my pace to catch the girl. Suddenly, I carried those words. They didn’t mean anything to me. I had no connection to the story behind her words. And, I wondered if I was now making another big mistake by exerting so much energy—for a girl I didn’t know, and a dad I would never meet.

The thumping of my feet grew louder. The panting from my chest grew stronger. And, as I inched up beside the girl, I simply stuck out my hand to return those words, “For Dad.”

The girl seemed confused at first. She hesitated for second before she realized that it was her cardboard. They were her words. It was her dad.

Without saying anything, the girl reached for the cardboard. She quickly held that cardboard piece over her heart. She smiled at me, and then turned her face in the opposite direction as tears welled in her eyes.

I picked up my pace and ran on.

It may be a simple word like “For.” It may be a simple word like “Dad.” But when we stop to consider all the meanings behind those words—all the delicate emotions that would describe this girl’s intention in the word “For,” and all those definitions and meanings encompassed by the word “Dad”—we realize something bigger.

What may be just words—written on cardboard, spoken in passing, or planned for a next encounter—are a foundational piece this thing we call mankind. We are a linguistic species—where all words have meanings. They can lift people up, put people down, start wars, build friendships, initiate love, and segregate nations. Words can gain power, take power, build and crumble societies. They can entertain us, motivate us, stop us in our tracks, and change our behavior. Words frame our reputations, connect our relationships, define our past and establish our goals for the future.

And, just like the girl in the marathon, we all carry our words with us. Sometimes they get flung out into the wind. And, that’s when we hope that whomever picks them up will understand that in those words—whatever they may be—is a greater context.

They are just simple words. But they are you. Use them wisely.

Education is valuable. Experience is priceless. And, attitude can drive you to the top of the pack. This recipe will catapult you ahead in life and career. It’s all good. And, I like the way you roll.

However, studies prove that without the physiological stamina to achieve in all these areas, you’re toast. You’re squashed. Kaput. Done. Hang your cookbook for success, because the days of working with an Easy Bake Oven are over.

What am I talking about?

A recent study conducted by the College of Occupational and Environmental Medicine revealed that just for being human, we all lose 11 to 14% of our productivity potential daily. As humans, we lose focus, daydream about sex, suffer from fatigue, deal with emotions, reap the consequences of our bad habits, and the list could go on—because we’re not machines.

And still, what may be more shocking to those of us who believe we’re awesome no matter what, is that for every health risk we add to our life, we lose an additional 3 to 5% productivity.

Headache? At least 5% gone. Dehydrated? Oops, another 3% gone. Malnourished? 4% down. Overweight? 3% disappears. Stress, emotional strife or anxiety? Chop off some more potential.  Even the silly and stupid things can really wipe our our worth. Constipated?

…and I digress.

Okay, so I know what you’re thinking. “These minor health setbacks are not a big deal in the overall scope of my performance. Are they?”

Hit the buzzer. You’re dead wrong.

The average American currently possesses an average of 9 to 12 health risks on any given day. Do the math on that—it means (if you’re average) that you’re only performing at around 50% of your performance capacity.

50% of your relationship potential. 50% of your career potential. 50% of your creative potential. 50% of you.

How’s that working for you? Cause it’s not working for me.

Now, if you’ll excuse me I’m going to drain at least 14% of my potential by daydreaming about bacon, mojitos, why I should have been a rockstar, and funny things Jimmy Kimmel says. And, I’m sure I can layer on some health risks because, living with three children, my house is petri dish.

Sometimes the words drip steadily. They ooze like condensation on the sharp edge of cold drink in the Arizona sun. Other times, they don’t.

Big, boisterous and beneficial words can often make writing more appealing. Other times, it’s just the raw and gritty truth that sets the mind free.

I’ve punched them all. And, tonight, I think I may be done.

Find me a banana tree to pick for a day, or a week. Find me a wall to paint yellow, or a dirty ditch to dig. Find me a math problem that I’ll never solve. Or, find me a song I cannot sing, play, or hum.

Sometimes the very thing that keeps us going makes us stand still. Sometimes, we don’t believe we can ever do it again—with purpose, with intention, and with any sense of glory.

Sometimes we feel stuck at the letter A. Sometimes we can’t make it to the letter B.

…but isn’t that kind of the point?

What happens when things get too easy? What happens we’re comfy—drifting away without a challenge? What happens when we make it from A to B and get stuck at B?

There will come a day when I learn to love coffee, because as I grew old, I had become an early riser (a typical transformation in people as they age). When this day arrives, I imagine myself sitting in rocking chair, and watching the sunrise and appreciating the day that is about to begin.

When I am old, I will be eager to take a walk with my old dog…a dog as decrepit and old as myself. We will hobble down a crooked sidewalk and I will honor the tree branches over my head—for they will have lived through more than the old me can imagine.

At some point along that crooked sidewalk, Rufus (my decrepit old dog and myself) will stumble upon a park bench. I will sit and Rufus will sit at my feet. I’ll talk to him—even more than I talk to my dog today. We’ll watch the activity—the joggers jogging, and the children playing. We won’t be sad that we can’t jog or play anymore—because we’ll know we’ve put in our time jogging and playing.

Next, I will force Rufus to listen to my ideas for stories I’ll write later that day. I’ll ask his opinion. His eyebrows will twitch in response. And, I’ll actually believe he understands me.

Somehow that day will drift away. My wife and I will eat lunch. We’ll take a nap in the living room. And, I’ll awaken from hip pain—and I’ll curse myself for all those years I spent jogging.

Then, Rufus and I will check the mailbox, as that’s what old people do.

When I have actually read the mail (another habit slowly diminishing in our culture), I’ll go sit at my computer. My old fingers will punch old keys. My old thoughts will spew old sentences. And, somewhere in the old moment I’ll wish I could return to days like today—where I feverishly typed until 3 A.M. in order to hit a deadline, then woke up and saw my kids off to school, rushed off to a client meeting, came home and answered emails and again began typing.

Today, before I knew it, the kids were climbing off the bus. And, the afternoon scurry began.

Someday, I’ll miss the nights like tonight where I sat in my car at my daughter’s soccer practice and wrote—because it was an hour and a half of utter silence. And, I’ll miss rushing home, organizing the kids and their homework for tomorrow, and then putting them to bed. I’m sure I’ll also miss knowing and looking forward to, spending just an hour catching up with my wife on the day’s events—a highlight in my day. And, I may even miss the anticipation of knowing I’ll drag myself out to my comfy yellow chair to start writing again…where I will again sit and punch keys until the wee hours of morning.

Someday I will miss this race. I’ll miss being able to run this fast. I’ll miss the energy that somehow keeps me going—and the hunger that forces me to plow through.

• A while back I was running on the canal by my house and was intrigued enough by a few ducks that I thought it was a good idea to stop and try cop a feel. Why not try to pet the duck?
• A while back a dear friend of mine was tossed from a van during a car accident and was tagged as dead. He survived, and revealed the true strength of mankind.
• A while back a another friend challenged me to write something meaningful about Liberacci’s wife. Maybe I could make a point out of something seemingly obscure.

There’s a ton of chatter online about the value of blogging. Do people actually read them? Do they have any impact on your business, your strategy, and your online presence? Or, do they impact your personal life?

I don’t know…

However, I can proudly state that I’ve never directly made a dime from rants and raves posted in blogs. I can also attest that I’ve never truly established a clear message or mission about why I post blogs or the ROI I recieve from spewing my thoughts into the world. However, I wonder, is that the point?

Every blue moon I receive emails and comments regarding my current or former ramblings — just people giving feedback to my splatter.

Valuable or not, I’m shocked by how many of clients, friends, partners, and various “un-knowns” will arise and mention some stupid story I posted years ago–like the fact that kept a potato in the freezer so I could secretly wrap it in sock and keep my feet cold during the night. Or, how the silly but brilliantly naive things my kids say somehow give me a grander perspective on life. Or…

Was that a waste of time? At least somewhere I can let my voice sound. At least somewhere I can say all the things that may or may not have a category or purpose. At least somewhere–in some wild stretch of my imagination—can I post to the world who I am, what I think, and how I behave.

Oh, and, these silly little blogs are typically the #1 reason I get hired to write books. Yes, 11 best sellers gets people’s attention. Yes, it helps that I have had the opportunity to work with many of the most brilliant people in publishing. But, the thing that wins people’s hearts is not so much the credibility, but the honesty…

Let’s face it, any guy who attempts to pet a duck is not the brightest berry in the bunch…but it’s real writing…even if the writing itself is a waste of time.

In 1937, a book reviewer at Time wrote: “An oxymoronic combination of the tough and tender, Of Mice and Men will appeal to sentimental cynics, cynical sentimentalists…Readers less easily thrown off their trolley will still prefer Hans Andersen.”

Of course, John Steinbeck’s Of Mice and Men has since become one of the most beloved books in American Literature.

I get a kick out of the critics—those who often chastise and whip the thoughts and ideas and art forms that challenge the status quo. “A soup can cannot be art,” they told Warhol. “No one wants a computer in their home,” they told Gates. “You can’t put chicken in a bucket,” they told Sanders.

And, then there is the little story of the goat, who tried to cross the bridge only to be challenged by the trolls that live beneath.

We all face these trolls—the people who believe it’s their job to stifle progress, innovation, creation, and success. At work it may be a boss who says, “we don’t pay you for your ideas.” It may be a friend or family member who tells you not to chase your dream because “you’ve never done it before.”  Or, it may be a computer system that judges your resume before you ever get a chance to talk a real person that says, “You did not include an adequate amount of key-words in your cover letter.”

Let’s raise a toast to the trolls. They force us to accept the challenge, out-think, out-play, and out-perform them. They inspire us to become more creative. They motivate us to stand our ground. And, ultimately, like the critic from Time Magazine so long ago, they become the butt of our blog posts.

Long live the Trolls.

I’m a fan of odd statistics. But, I’m also disturbed by the reality of such numbers. For instance:

The ant, when intoxicated, will always fall over to its right side. Sure, it’s interesting, but anyone who’s spilling enough wine or beer to test the credibility of such data, probably needs help himself or herself—treatment, maybe?

Every 23 seconds a Tupperware party starts somewhere in the world. This little tidbit must be outdated. However, I’d like to think it’s still true. It means there might still be a fondue party I could attend. Again, treatment, maybe?

A ‘jiffy’ is an actual unit of time for 1/100th of a second. The only living beings who can actually understand the relevance of 1/100th of a second are scientists, Blue Angels performance pilots, and Speedy Gonzales (according to Slowpoke Rodriguez, if Speedy doesn’t get the cheese in a timely fashion, the children of the village will whither and die). Yea, admittedly, I watched too many Looney Tunes as a kid.

What about job satisfaction? What about relationship satisfaction? What about the simple concept of happiness? Are these statistics too alarming to repost?

Well, according to a quick Google search, nearly 60% of employees are dis-satisfied with their jobs. Nearly 50% of married people say they are satisfied in their relationship. And, overall, recent studies show that nearly 80% of Americans claim they are generally “happy.”

Somehow that math doesn’t work for me. And, all this leads me to the conclusion that nearly 100% of researchers skew their data collection to derive a number that favors a desired outcome.

What’s real in your world? Only you can answer that question. However, it appears that many ants would be willing to get intoxicated with you while you ponder life’s biggest questions.

“Hey little buddy. I’ll buy the next round.” I think all of us will agree that drink prices are way too high.

Every now and again (okay so maybe a little more often than I’d like to admit) I get the proverbial hand slap from a client, media source, or even a reader for including what I like to call “wet monkey” descriptions and concepts in my writing. This of course, makes me sad (especially when it’s a big dog like BusinessWeek).

So, admittedly, I’m a bit scattered. I like to have fun. And, let me tell you this—when I do slip the “wet monkey” past the troll sitting under the bridge, it’s a definite winner.

Of course, being that I can’t publicly take credit for many “wet monkeys” because I’m a ghost, I  can’t share too many. Still, people in my networks often ask, “Todd, how do you always get your stuff noticed?”

Here he comes…my little wet monkey. What does that mean?

Of course there are standards to getting content noticed. You must provide useful information. It should be applicable in some way shape or form, and it should fall into one of four buckets (I’m sure I’ve blogged about this before…or maybe I haven’t). The buckets are:

1) Reveal Credibility: This is all the stuff that allows you to show off like awards, testimonials, etc.

2) Build Rapport: This is all the stuff that makes you human like how you collect antique italian socks, or like grapes in your tuna salad.

3) Offer Knowledge: This is where you give your audience something that helps them in their life. Think bullet points. People love bullet points.

4) Create Value: This is where you sell your smack. “Get it now before it’s all gone. Special offer! Because you’re one of our valued customers…”

So, what’s the wet monkey?

Imagine for a second that I wanted to show you my linen closet (or, ho-hum content). Pretty boring right? But, imagine now that I said, “Hey, there’s a wet monkey in my linen closet. You wanna check it out?” Ahhh…now we’re talking business. Immediately, you’re interested in seeing my linen closet.

The “wet monkey” is the unusual surprise that turns something expected, into something entertaining and interesting (and still useful). Oh, and there’s yet another benefit…

Ready?

If your wet monkey is catchy enough, you can entice people through an entire blog post about “The Four Buckets of Effective Online Media Strategy” and they’ll never even realize that they read it. Cool eh?

Oh, and off the subject: I’m kinda leaning toward naming my monkey Orville…like the popcorn guy. Most people like popping corn, right?

It’s just plain ugly. I’m scratching my chin wondering how something so basic and pure can become so destructive.  When did a youth soccer tournament turn so competitive that coaches would would actually tell the team members to cheat, or allow them to display unsportsmanlike conduct?  When did political races become so vial that it’s not just the candidates personally attacking one-another but the supporters are “de-friend-ing” one another—simply for having different beliefs?  When did corporations become so competitive that they would actually lie to their customers—the very people that keep them in business?

What happened to civil competition?

Can we NOT view competition as something that elevates our own performance and actually benefits all the players? Do we NOT see that if our children compete against a team that is superior, or we compete at the office with people that are smarter, or that community rivalries could actually make those communities stand up, clean up, and take pride in their neighborhoods that we’d all be better off? Can we see that competition actually elevates our performance, if we compete with civility?

When did the definition of the word “competition” turn into “conflict”?

That leads me to a web site, and a “man” named Simpleton. He’s got the right idea about competition. Check out www.wizcracker.com.  There’s an e-book you can download. Cracks me up.