I have no idea why I stopped.

I never stop here.

I'd been driving on a stretch of road that wends along a river here in the Green Mountains of Vermont. Overnight, our temperate fall turned to chilly stick season. There's some color left in the trees, but we're past peak at this point. It was probably over the weekend, right before the temps dropped. Still, I don't know that I've ever pulled off here despite all the times I've driven by it, going one way or another.

The water is super low. I hadn't needed to climb down the embankment to know that but, standing here, level with it, just... hits different. Part of the cycle I guess; snowmelt in the spring brings lots of water and then, gradually, drops bit by bit all the way through until winter when it replenishes and starts all over again.

Today marks 400 days in a row of this daily column.

Wild.

Maybe that's why I made this pit-stop by the river out of nowhere. I'd been listening to Molly Graham and Lenny Rachitsky talk about Molly's famous "Give Away Your Legos" article. 13 years later, in the world of AI, she's pivoting. Her amended advice is to keep your legos after all.

Great. Cool. Wonderful.

Thinking about corporate AI-maxxxing makes me wildly unhappy. Alone in my truck, I'd shouted, to no one in particular, "NO, WE REALLY DON'T HAVE TO." 

There's no service here, which I like.

I'm standing here on this river bank, looking ahead and looking back—up-river and down-river—and my shoulders collapse. A long, long exhale follows. After that, it's silent.

A deep inhale through my nose injects the smell of pine straight into my brain. And the subtle, non-overbearing scent of decay that comes part and parcel with fall in New England as the leaves change color, die, and drop. I'm not so good at celebrating milestones. Never have been. I'm one of those neurodivergent folks who feels relief rather than joy after accomplishing something. It's usually very short-lived, too (at least, if I can help it). Then it's on to the next thing...

400 days in a row!!!

All while trying to change careers, go back to school for my master's, and use my existing career to fund it. Taking a last look up-river and down-river, I breathe in for four seconds, hold it for seven seconds, and exhale for eight. With a grin, I start climbing up the riverbank to head back to my truck.

Thinking about becoming a therapist makes me happy.

I may never work in marketing again, and I'm completely fine with that.

* * *

When's the last time you realized you were straddling the fence?

onward.

For more on this daily column, read the backstory here. And if you know someone who'd appreciate this, pass it along.