The Great Patio Intervention and the Speed of Life

 

My partner looked at me over her coffee mug last Saturday and said, “We need to get the patio cushions to the basement and the pots into the garage this weekend.”

I just stared at her. Winterize? It seemed ridiculously early. The sun was shining. There were still a few leaves on the trees. So, I stared some more. She stared back.

(Don’t worry. This isn't a blog about a staring contest. But I was winning.)

Finally, I broke the silence. “But I haven’t even brought up the deck rug yet. Or that owl decoration for the table. And the Thermacell is charged. We could actually sit out there tonight without getting bitten by a mosquito.”

She kept staring at me, not in a "have you finally lost your mind?" kind of way, but with a loving, knowing look. It was the same look she gives me when I can't find my keys or when I insist on checking all the locks on the doors a hundred times. She has a way of letting me know I am loved, but also that maybe I am losing a battle with the obvious.

And then a depressing thought hit me: I could barely remember us using the patio all year. Did we even sit out there once?  Surely, we must have.  But when?

I was busy mentally listing everything we never used out here when she beat me to the punch.

“Because it’s November,” she said.

“But we never even used it!” I protested, knowing that I was being oddly defensive about our neglected outdoor space. “The citronella candle is still in the box!”

She took a sip of coffee. “Do you want to go get it now, then? Do you want to bring up the carpet, the owl, and the light for the corner of the deck?”

She asked this as if the answer was so obvious it would snap me back to reality. So I stared at her again.  She stared back.

And then I did what I had to do. I ran the numbers. We have a fire table, but it’s out of propane. Still, I have my old ski pants, an L.L. Bean jacket, and hand warmers. So, yeah, I can bundle up, enjoy a cup of coffee, and feel totally in my element.

And then I remembered I'm the one who puts on a sweater in July if the air conditioning is too high and considers 70 degrees "chilly." My idea of "braving the elements" is going out to get the mail without a jacket.

Right. She's right.

“No,” I conceded. “I guess not. I’ll bring the stuff down.”

So, I began the big haul. With every trip to the basement, I realized I was storing away another "maybe tomorrow." Where did the summer even go? Was there a summer? It felt like I'd blinked in May and opened my eyes to November.

It got me thinking about how fast time slips away. It feels like I was just cleaning these chairs in the spring, and now I'm putting them into hibernation.

This feeling that life accelerates as we age is something almost everyone feels. It reminded me of something Michelle Obama shared about her mother, Marian Robinson, in her final days. Her mother said, "It went so fast." When Michelle asked what, she simply replied, "Life."

She was right. It does.

This isn't just a feeling; there's scientific evidence supporting it. You might have heard of "proportional theory," which proposes that as you age, each year makes up a smaller part of your life. For a 10-year-old, one year is 10% of their life. For a 60-year-old, it's only 1.6%. That makes sense on paper, but psychologists say what really matters is what our brains decide to hold onto.

Think about it: Childhood and young adulthood are full of firsts, like the first bike, first day of school, and first love. These new experiences help our brains create rich, detailed memories. As adults, we tend to fall into routines, such as bringing all the patio cushions to the basement even though summer clearly hasn't arrived yet (!). Since our brains don't need to record every detail of a typical Tuesday, those months and years can blend into one dull period. When we look back, childhood days filled with unique memories seem long and full, while the routine adult years appear to pass quickly. 

  

So, there I was, carrying the last pot into the garage, having a full-blown midlife crisis right there on my empty patio. And that’s when I realized that my summer didn’t really vanish; it just got lost in the pile of work and to-do lists. Every trip to the basement felt like a tally of all the times we said, "We should sit outside," and then didn't.

I guess the lesson is that while I can't slow down time, I should make a point to use the patio next year. If life is going to pass by this quickly, I want it to be a blur of good moments, not just a pile of unused patio cushions.

Although I guess if I get really desperate this winter, I could always go down to the basement and sit on them. I might even light that citronella candle for some atmosphere. My partner would just walk in, give me that same long, loving look, and probably head back upstairs without saying a word.

What a Crumbl Cookie Taught Me About Hope

 

Have you ever had one of those days that just doesn’t want to end? I recently experienced one of those days. It wasn’t necessarily extraordinary. Sure, the sky was the most stunning blue I’ve ever seen, the air was crisp, and the leaves were just beginning to change. But after that, the day felt pretty ordinary. I spent the morning picking up dog poop in the yard, mowing the lawn, doing laundry, connecting with my family and friends, and watching football. When I glanced at the clock, I thought, “Wait, how is it already 6:00? Slow down, Sunday. I don’t want to say goodbye yet.”

And then I started thinking about the recent Tuesday I had. Honestly, it was an absolutely miserable day. It was dark, gloomy, and rained all day long, and on a day when I had meetings and appointments that kept me in the car and on the go for about 8 hours. As I was finally driving home, I passed a Crumbl cookie store and thought that if I ever deserved a giant sugary cookie, today was surely the day. But I had just committed myself to going sugar-free until the holidays. In the end, I didn’t stop at Crumbl, but not because of willpower. You see, there was no way I was going to get out of the car to get wet one more time that day. In fact, all I could think was, “How is it only 5:30? Why can’t it be bedtime now!”

As I reflected more on both of these days, I realized there must be a common thread between them. And then it hit me: they are both driven by the same psychological force—hope. And these two completely different days suggested to me that there are two kinds of hope: one says, "Please let this last," and the other says, "Please let this pass." Let me try to explain my thinking.

The way we perceive time is deeply emotional. When life feels full and we are meeting our goals and feeling connected, we want to savor it. We want more. But when we are struggling, feeling disconnected, sick, and tired of getting rained on, we seek relief. We want less. If you think about it, both of these reactions reveal something about hope.

When we don’t want the day to end, hope is realized. We’re living in a moment that feels good and satisfies most (or maybe all) of our needs. For me, it was the need to be outdoors and connect with nature (yes, even the dog poop), to be productive, and to spend time with my family and friends. That day, it felt like hope had come true, and I wanted to hold on.

 But when we can’t wait for the day to end, hope is what keeps us going. Yeah, I was hoping for a Crumbl cookie, but mostly, as I ached for dry clothes and my warm bed, I truly believed that tomorrow would be better. In a sense, hope becomes a life raft (and with the amount of rain we had that day, I mean this literally).

That moment of believing that “tomorrow will be better” captures the essence of what psychologists call hope. According to psychologists, hope is the belief that we will inevitably find the path to meet our goals and will also be motivated to pursue them. In other words, if we have a clear (ish) plan for tomorrow and we have the energy and will to achieve that goal, we have hope. If you think about it, we can see hope in both joy and struggle; in good days and in bad days. During the good days, hope reminds us to “stay here; this is what is possible.” And during the bad days, hope tells us to “keep going; something else is possible.”

As much as I want the good days to persist and the bad ones to end early, I have come to believe that both days are essential to human existence. If we didn’t have the bad days, would we appreciate the good ones as much? If I didn’t ache for dry clothes and a warm bed, would I really appreciate it when I finally got both?

So, maybe the goal isn't to cling to the days we love and rush through the ones we don’t really care about. Instead, maybe we should pause and think about what both kinds of days reveal about hope.

What am I hoping for today?

What am I hoping from today?

Because, really, every sunny Sunday and every gloomy Tuesday are part of the same forecast, and both remind us that hope is what keeps us moving forward.

The Cheering Section I Didn’t Know I Needed

 

“Way to go!"

“You’re looking great!”

“Keep it up!”

 

He yelled and clapped as I ran by. I turned my head, smiled, and waved.

 

The occasion for this enthusiastic outburst?

I was running. At a park. By myself.

 

No, I wasn’t in a race. No, I wasn’t even running with anyone else, so there was no competition happening. And no, the trail isn’t hilly or treacherous. It’s completely flat, which is why I run there one day a week.

 

So why all the fuss?

 

I run a lot slower than I used to. In fact, some people might mistake my running for loitering— “Why is that woman just standing in the street? Oh, wait… she’s jogging. My bad.” So, a three-mile run gave me plenty of time to think about it.

 

Maybe he cheered because I looked older than most of the people out there, I thought to myself. When I did some quick calculations in my head, I realized he wasn’t wrong. Most runners on the trail are decades younger than me.

 

But the truth is that my running isn’t some statistical anomaly.  I’m not the only “older” runner out here. Millions of us lace up every week, including approximately 5.1 million women in my age group.

 

Clearly, the CBS Sunday Morning Show isn’t going to film a segment titled “Holy Smokes! 61-Year-Old Woman Runs Three Days a Week” with baffled world-renowned doctors weighing in on my “unprecedented athleticism.” So, nope, that can’t be it.

 

As I rounded the loop, there he was again. This time, I observed more: he appeared to be in his 80s, with all the typical signs of a coach, like the ball cap, the way his eyes seem to encourage, and the posture that says “coach.” And once more, with even more energy, he cheered.

 

“Looking strong!”

“You got this!”

 

The smile on my face was about as big a smile as I’ve had all week. And I admit that I picked up my pace a bit, wanting to meet his faith in me with a good performance.

 

It struck me then that we can all use a cheerleader sometimes. Or maybe every day.

 

Later, I stopped at Costco for a few things. Usually, my partner sends me shopping not just with a list but with a map (including aisle numbers). You see, I am as geographically challenged in the grocery store as I am on the highway. But this time, I was on my own. When I actually found the Mr. Clean sponges without a GPS, I felt absurdly proud, and honestly, I thought I deserved a cheer. “Way to go! You found the sponges! You’re killing it today!”

 

I may never know exactly why that man cheered me on. But I do know this: it made my day. And maybe, just maybe, it made his, too.

 

I plan to start fully embracing my inner cheerleader. I'm going to try to make my words an unexpected high-five: "I see you, and you're doing great," for no reason at all. It's not about fixing anything; it's just about making the world a slightly brighter place. And the best part? I've found that when you shine a light on someone else, you can't help but feel a little warmer and brighter yourself.

 

Psychologists even have a term for this: the Helper’s High. Research shows that encouraging others releases endorphins and dopamine, the same feel-good chemicals we get from exercise or laughter. That’s why cheering someone on doesn’t just lift their spirits; it also makes you feel good, too.

 

 So go ahead. Be someone’s surprise cheerleader today. You never know whose day you could brighten.