Don’t waste precious brain energy on what you can’t change.

Rick’s brain was churning like a blender with the giant mango seed accidentally tossed in. Spinning and spinning with the occasional painful kerplunk of fine blades coming in contact with a dull but hard blob.

He got his room key and started up the stairs. Where was her room, he thought to himself. Maybe she’s already here? What if it’s Yuck at first sight? Blah at first sight? Just get the shoes on and get out the door.

But he couldn’t stop thinking about her. They had gotten along so well on chat and then the few times they spoke on Skype. They even did a video Skype and that went well, too.

She didn’t look typically Danish. She didn’t have the blond hair and blue eyes that 78% of the population seemed to have. She had long, wavy brown hair and brown eyes. Maybe her ancestors were from somewhere else. He didn’t know. He didn’t know much about her much less her family. Were they going to talk about where they came from and go through the whole process of getting to know each other? Ask awkward questions like, “So, did you grow up in Denmark?” Maybe her dad was a Russian mafia assassin and they escaped via Estonia to Denmark and changed their names and then had Sally and called her Sally because they saw it in a movie?

“Just put on the shoes,” Rick said to himself as he rummaged through his suitcase for his socks. He needed to just get out into the street and focus on one foot in front of the other. Focus on your feet and then your legs and make sure breathing is going well so lungs get oxygen to the … enough!

Socks on, shoes on. Oh, shorts. Shorts on. It’s November. Longer shorts? No, running pants. Done. Out. The. Door.

Without warming up or stretching, Rick darted off into the streets of Paris. He dodged cars and glamorous women smoking cigarettes with their long legs stretching out over the sidewalk. “They really shouldn’t be smoking,” he said under his breath as he pushed harder and went faster.

As his momentum increased, so did his confidence. As his speed increased and his heart rate rocketed, his questions, worries and potential scenarios dripped off of him encapsulated in beads of sweat.

He hurdled over chain link barriers and forgot about what he might say or she might do. He breezed through a city park with the grace of a gazelle and didn’t even notice his own breath and his vision of Sally was one of her laughing at one of his jokes.

The more he ran, the more his mind cleared of useless and imaginary clutter. Fog lifted from his mind in the form of steam rising off of his head and neck and shoulders as he pushed harder. The fog weighed him down and slowed down his thinking. It clouded his judgement and took away from the clarity of purpose. Without the fog and the mist and the thoughts and too much thinking, he was strong and clear and ready for anything.

“Bring it on, Sally!” he accidentally said rather loudly as he sprinted in the middle of a smaller street of Paris. “I’m ready for you!” he now consciously allowed himself to roar to anyone, no one and everyone who was listening. He didn’t care anymore. He was out of breath and probably out of his mind and it was the perfect place to be. “Are you ready for me, Sally?” he again said to the empty street as he slowed down and moved onto the sidewalk where the smaller street came into a grand boulevard.

People bustled and hustled in front of him, a sea of humanity but Rick saw none of them. He only saw Sally in front of him and he was ready for her. He stopped in the middle of the sidewalk and said out loud and with conviction, “Are you ready for me, Sally?”

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