The elevated trains in Chicago are both great and terrible. You can watch them come and go as you walk up to the stations that rattle a story above ground. It's a way to witness the motion of the city – traveling, transportation, energy, innovation, synergy! On the other hand, it means that each morning as I walk up to my station, I can watch my train arriving from a block away.
If I miss the 7:33 express, I have to wait for the 7:50. This gets me to work either right on time or ten minutes late, depending on the number of "We are waiting for signal clearance" announcements I hear that particular ride. When I see the 7:33 rolling along, I have to make some quick decisions. Am I close enough to run for it? Is it worth sprinting past the other commuters on the sidewalk? What are the chances that I will spill my coffee down my pants? Down someone else's pants?
One morning, I saw that my train had already arrived before I got through the station's main doors. I inserted my CTA card and trudged through the turnstile. I climbed the stairs at a normal pace and discovered that the train was still on the platform. Huzzah! I dropped into a seat just as the doors slid closed. For the rest of the day, I felt lucky. Any small setback at work didn't feel so bad, since I'd magically made my train.
That non-sprint convinced me to always run for the train. Really, why not? As I see it, there are three possible outcomes if I sprint to catch the 7:33:
(1) I make it, celebrate my good fortune and my mad dash skills. The rest of the day is excellent by extension.
(2) I miss it, wait for the next one, and resolve to be more like my siblings and get into running.
(3) I accidentally bump into an old woman on my way up the stairs and get arrested for reckless behavior, disrespecting my elders, and being a whippersnapper. My coffee likely goes cold while I wait for Eric to bail me out of jail.
I have a 1/3 chance of an excellent outcome, a 1/3 chance of a decent outcome (especially if that becoming a runner thing happens), and a 1/3 chance of an absolutely terrible outcome. Not too bad, right?
This thought process applies to so many things. What are the outcomes of starting a business on Etsy?
(1) My greeting cards become super popular and I get to start all my political arguments with, "As a small business owner..."
(2) No one buys my stuff, so I eventually send all my cards as actual cards (side benefit: my friends and family get mail and I support the Post Office).
(3) The old woman Ipushed grazed on the way to the train buys something from me so that she can write a terrible review and start a negative PR campaign that eventually gets me blackballed from any online craft selling community.
There are always reasons not to run for the train. But if I make it, how great would that be?
On a semi-related note, there is one conductor who always apologizes profusely when the 7:33 runs late. He makes my mornings.
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| I made the train that morning! |
If I miss the 7:33 express, I have to wait for the 7:50. This gets me to work either right on time or ten minutes late, depending on the number of "We are waiting for signal clearance" announcements I hear that particular ride. When I see the 7:33 rolling along, I have to make some quick decisions. Am I close enough to run for it? Is it worth sprinting past the other commuters on the sidewalk? What are the chances that I will spill my coffee down my pants? Down someone else's pants?
One morning, I saw that my train had already arrived before I got through the station's main doors. I inserted my CTA card and trudged through the turnstile. I climbed the stairs at a normal pace and discovered that the train was still on the platform. Huzzah! I dropped into a seat just as the doors slid closed. For the rest of the day, I felt lucky. Any small setback at work didn't feel so bad, since I'd magically made my train.
That non-sprint convinced me to always run for the train. Really, why not? As I see it, there are three possible outcomes if I sprint to catch the 7:33:
(1) I make it, celebrate my good fortune and my mad dash skills. The rest of the day is excellent by extension.
(2) I miss it, wait for the next one, and resolve to be more like my siblings and get into running.
(3) I accidentally bump into an old woman on my way up the stairs and get arrested for reckless behavior, disrespecting my elders, and being a whippersnapper. My coffee likely goes cold while I wait for Eric to bail me out of jail.
I have a 1/3 chance of an excellent outcome, a 1/3 chance of a decent outcome (especially if that becoming a runner thing happens), and a 1/3 chance of an absolutely terrible outcome. Not too bad, right?
This thought process applies to so many things. What are the outcomes of starting a business on Etsy?
(1) My greeting cards become super popular and I get to start all my political arguments with, "As a small business owner..."
(2) No one buys my stuff, so I eventually send all my cards as actual cards (side benefit: my friends and family get mail and I support the Post Office).
(3) The old woman I
There are always reasons not to run for the train. But if I make it, how great would that be?
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| The view towards the lake as I wait. |
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