This weekend, we had our second significant snowfall. I’m personally very geeked about this because I grew up where snow was a regular occurrence. People in Cincinnati state they love getting snow . . . until it happens. When it hits, you see chaos ensue. People are unsure how to drive, and everything grinds to a screeching halt. The TV meteorologists are in storm mode. They fill the airwaves with doom and gloom. You’re told you’re about to face the apocalypse, when it’s just a few inches of snow.
Growing up, my dad taught me the art of shoveling a driveway. He was meticulous. He had the expectation that when you were done, the entire surface would be as clean as possible. No straggling trails of snow remnants were allowed. My brother and I would often have to go back out to get those tiny trails of snow that come off the edges of your shovel because we weren’t really “done.” This left a giant imprint on us. There was merit to this, which was laced with a layer of undue pressure.
So, when the garage door creaked open this morning, I saw a blanket of white facing me. I turned on my Spotify playlist (Brit Pop Indie 90s in case you wanted to check it out), started my workout app on my watch, took a deep breath, laid down the blade of my snow shovel, and made my first scoop. We received five inches of snow, which is fairly significant for us. On top of the volume of snow spread out across our driveway, the final two feet was dense and massive because the township snowplow had deposited all of the snow from the road firmly at the apron of every house on the cul-de-sac.

I set out to tackle the task before me, feeling the frigid temperatures with every breath I took. Oh, did I mention that it was zero degrees when I started with a wind chill that made it even colder ?? Not complaining. Just setting the stage. Steadily and slowly, I made my way across and down the driveway. I broke it down by sections, making sure that each one was cleared completely (could hear my dad’s voice in my head). I was making great headway until I hit the gunk deposited across the apron.
My activity had gone from eagerly pushing the snow across the width of the surface to barely moving at all. The rest of the snow gave very little resistance to being moved. This mix was significantly different. The weight was tripled at least !! Therefore, you had to move it one scoop at a time. You couldn’t even toss it across to an edge. It had to be walked over and deposited.
There were a few moments of labored breathing, and I felt like walking away. I could drive over it. Why overexert myself? I knew this wasn’t a realistic option. I needed to make sure the driveway was cleared. So, I kept at it methodically. Bit by bit, the apron started to appear. In the end, it took me an hour to finish shoveling. I was ready to be done. Frozen fingers and face were getting the best of me. However, it was done.
As I dropped into a chair in my family room to recover, I thought about how my shoveling was a lot like a healthy approach to work. We see the expanse of a problem sprawling out before us, just like a snow-covered driveway. We have an urge to make large efforts to clear out the problem as quickly as we can. Expediency is the drive. It’s not feasible, but we convince ourselves that if we work hard enough, we can knock it out.
The reality is that the problem needs to be addressed in a measured way. Even though this takes more time, the result is better. As you start moving the light objects in your way, you make progress easily. When things get a bit more difficult, you pause, evaluate what’s needed, then make the next scoop. You may get a bit anxious and frustrated because the end of the project is in sight. Continuing to stay disciplined and measured is needed all the way until the end.
When you adopt this approach, you’ll see that the project has been cleared with no straggling trails. This week, step back and see how you’re approaching work. Be more measured. Make sure to take one scoop at a time.








