​A good friend of mine is Mr. Paranoia Inducer, among his many other skill sets. He loves to state how things will deconstruct, break down, blow up, fall apart, burn. He does this partly from a reality-based perspective and partly for humor.
 
“Oh, you have big icicles hanging from your gutters? Your roof is probably going to cave in next week.” Those types of statements.

Not knowing anything about roofs, you believe him, because he’s an engineer and should have expertise on building structures. What’s the result from his statement?
 
You try to ignore him, realize he’s poking fun, but then go to yourself, “What if he’s right? What if our roof collapses from all the snow and one of our dogs is underneath and gets smothered?


What happens next? Paranoia creeps into your life. ALL you can think about is the f…..cking roof collapsing. You go to bed thinking those dastardly thoughts and you wake up wondering whether you should go into the front room of the house to see if it dropped two feet of snow on the dogs snout.
 
Recently, Mr. Paranoia Inducer cackled maniacally to himself as he informed me about the potential for an electrical fire in our house, which, of course, would burn our place to the ground in my imagination as I sweated all night like a marathon runner sprinting through the Amazon forest. We had tripped circuit breakers several times with the recent cold snap encasing the northern part of the U.S.
 
He made sure to apply confusing language that he knew I wouldn’t understand to obfuscate and baffle because I know next to nothin about electrical components. Using big words that very few people know is a good way to do this, and he is a master.
 
He’d combine two or three of those technical terms in a row until I started to teeter, wondering if I could avoid brain overload. Then he closed me out with, “You probably have condensation in an outlet causing the circuit breakers to trip. That could cause an electrical fire.”
 
Thanks so much, buddy. Now I can’t sleep at night.
 
He kind of knows what he’s talking about. That’s the problem with people who make statements along these lines. They sound professional and knowledgeable. You respect them. What he says makes sense. You don’t know any better.
 
So, you trust his perspective. “Damn, that makes sense what he said. I better go check that condensation.” BBBBBZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ as you get a shock from the outlet cuz you’re doing something you shouldn’t be.
 
Being an engineer by trade gives Mr. Paranoia Inducer a leg up on most people he knows. At every cocktail party, he has a strong opportunity to terrify people with his statements.
“Oh, that tick in your engine? It probably means your starter is on the fritz. With all this cold weather, you wouldn’t want to get stranded, so you better check it out immediately.” Uh, okay.
 
“You used Gorilla Glue to seal that hole? Why did you do that?” The open-ended nature of Mr. Paranoia Inducer’s statement means he has you on the ropes, because you have to ask him further questions to clarify his comment, and then he gets to scare you more.
 
I’m sure he smiles inside all the time, bemused, and proud of his ability to needle people. We call that term “yooxing” around, and yes, he’s the champion.

​Snowplow drivers kick ass. I love them. They make Wisconsin and the northern environment livable and drivable when other parts of the country succumb to snow.
 
This occurred to me the past week (not that the thought hasn’t come to me at other times) as we experienced three days of snow requiring removal. Driving home one evening from refereeing a basketball game, snow blowing like CRAZY and coming down blindingly from the side, the snowplow appeared in my headlights.

He’s heading in my direction, yellow lights blinking. I slow down, pull a bit to the right.
 
Then, I marvel at the snow flying to the side as the gigantic beast rumbles by, swirling snow in its wake as the driver passes on the other side of the road.
 
It’s a lonely gig. Those men and women are out by themselves during harsh conditions, often dangerous, extreme cold and bad roads. We rely on them. They carry that burden of keeping drivers safe, helping us get to our jobs and all the other locations important in our daily lives.

We don’t survive without them. It’s that simple.
If the roads don’t get plowed well in a timely fashion (emphasis on “well” and “timely”), we cannot go on with our daily lives. You’re stuck in your home, or god forbid, if you are on the road somewhere, you could get stuck on a lonely road piled into a snowdrift in the middle of nowhere.

The drivers work all hours. Routinely, I imagine, 10-, 12- or 14-hour days. They are on the road by the wee early morning hours. I see them regularly before 5 a.m. plowing to make our roads safe.
 
Day after day (as we’ve had recently), they get out, do their job, come home, grab some quick sleep, eat, attempt to recharge and touch base with their family, then back to the truck again. They know it’s a mission.
 
If you have a home emergency like a pipe bursting in the basement, having your road plowed means the plumber can get to your house. If you or someone in your family has a major medical condition requiring immediate attention, the cleared road allows you to get there. Snowplow drivers are essential and dedicated.  
 
I remember reading a novel many years ago based in northern Minnesota. There were a number of scenes featuring snowplow drivers, facing the endless monotony of snow coming down, trying to stay awake and safe on the road, doing their jobs to the best of their ability.
 
It struck me how hard that would be – the relentlessness of driving that truck for hour after hour, and often on shifts that come at you day after day after day if snow continues falling. So easy for them to wear out mentally, physically and psychologically, and the author explored those complexities in some of the characters.

So, here’s a big salute to all snowplow drivers. Thank you for what you do. I’m thinking about you when I’m out on the road before, during or after a winter storm. I empathize with you and your job. Keep after it. We need you.
 
Forward this along to any snowplow drivers you know.

​We all break down at some point – hit a limit and can’t go on. It could be your fitness regime. It could be unrealistic assignments at work that you finally raise to your boss. You can be seen as rebellious, but really it’s that you’ve been pushed to a point where you can’t continue down that path without some form of physical, emotional or psychological injury to yourself (or others).

Our current culture typically teaches otherwise – that you can do everything if it’s your passion or you push yourself hard enough. I get it about working hard. I also get it about focusing on those things you do well and engage you. Makes sense. Not complicated.
 
Recently on a Zoom session, I heard a presenter discussing fitness-related issues for people as they age (after age 50, more or less) and was struck by the realism in his approach. He discussed the need for variety. He focused on injuries and how to rehabilitate. He touched on eliminating exercises that aggravated specific muscle groups and changing routine to bring another part of your body into shape as you rested those strained parts of your body.
 
A lot of common sense in his approach that can be applied to other parts of our lives. Those of us who strike the type of rational approach he advocates swim against the mainstream of “you can do anything if you put your mind to it.” Signs like “Impossible Is Nothing” or “Find Your Limits, Then Shatter Them” adorn the walls at my fitness facility. They’re unrealistic and counter-productive.
 
I liked a car analogy used by the Zoom presenter. I’ve always appreciated the fact that cars break down, as do human bodies. He spoke about this, and the need for tune-ups, to drive differently to ensure the car stays useful, to change the oil, filters, tires, etc.  Sure, our human bodies can’t do all those things.

His point was though that we can keep our core in shape with work. We’re going to get dinged, joints wearing out, something breaking down that we can’t prevent. But, if we take care of ourselves, we remain serviceable as athletes longer – stretching, good nutrition, eliminating bad habits, adding variety to our workouts. We reduce breakdowns.

With our weather overnight here at -10 degrees and only expected to reach 1 degree later this after, I broke down today. It was an acknowledgement of what I can’t handle. I’m wearing long underwear in the house all day. I’m running a heater in our basement, so the heat rises to keep our main floor above freezing.
 
It reminded me of another personal breaking down incident I had years ago, at work, where I started bringing a space heater to put under my desk to keep my toesies toasty. I broke down. My toes were cold that day and for weeks on end, and I’d finally had it. We all get that way at some point.

We’ve exceeded our limits. We can’t take anymore (of something). We react. We do something about it (put on toe warmers, stop doing pullups, whatever). It’s an acknowledgement that, “No, I can’t deal with this.”

We should all be more tolerant of ourselves and others as we come up against our personal limits. We all have them. Do your best. Acknowledge when you can’t do something. Go have a beer. You’ll feel much better and be happier.