Taking on "It’s Not Fair"

The Northeast just got crushed. We’re talking feet of snow, the kind that makes you question why you live where the air hurts your face.

I’m two hours into shoveling my driveway. My back is starting to tight up, my shoulders are burning, and there is still no end in sight. Every scoop feels heavier than the last.

Then, I look across the street.

My neighbor has the exact same house I do. Same layout, same long-as-hell driveway. As I’m leaning on my shovel, sweating, a truck rolls up. His "plowing service" has arrived. In ten minutes, literally ten minutes, his entire driveway is clear. He didn't even have to put on a coat.

I stood there for a second in a total "it’s not fair" whiny stance. I was bitter. I was annoyed. I was looking at my shovel like it was the enemy.

But then, I caught myself. I stopped the mental chatter and said, fuck it.

Whatever. He’s getting a clear driveway. I’m getting resilience. He’s staying warm; I’m learning how to handle discomfort. While he’s sitting on the couch, I’m out here forcing my mind to shut up and just move the weight.

It’s all mental. The burn is good. The struggle is the point.

Shovel. Step. Repeat.

Fuck yeah.