Take the Backroads Home

Mitch Arnold • August 27, 2024

There are 438 miles between Scottsbluff, NE and my house, and that number doesn’t change whether you take the interstate or a much more rural route on two-lane highways. My navigation system also told me that I would add approximately 47 minutes to my trip, if I stayed off the interstate, so I had a choice to make.


Like most, I find rural travel much less stressful than interstate driving. Additionally, I knew that we would enjoy some beautiful scenery if we took the backroads home. Still, facing approximately seven hours behind the wheel on a Sunday, especially after not sleeping particularly well on Friday and Saturday, was daunting, and it was tempting to shorten the trip by sticking to the interstate.


We often miss out on life’s simple pleasures, when we rush from one point to another. We speed through meal preparation to minimize our time in the kitchen, costing ourselves a chance to enjoy healthy creative cuisine. We rush through conversations with family and friends, prioritizing function over depth. We aimlessly scroll through our phones, forsaking the opportunity for quiet thought.


When we subjugate where we’re at and what’s around us for the expediency of what’s next, we introduce unnecessary stress into our lives. That stress not only has harmful physical effects, it also blinds us to opportunities to savor the moment. Now in my mid-50s, I am much more aware of how the small choices I make in life affect the stress that I feel in life and how that affects those around me. Plus, I want to take a little extra time to savor life’s fleeting moments.


Over the years, I’ve learned that time will pass, regardless of our efforts to control it. It’s up to us to use that time in a way that leaves us fulfilled and allows us to be at our best. To that point, it had been 13 years since I had been on those backroads. A little quick math told me that I was 41 back then, and if I wait another 13 years, I’ll be 67 before I touched Highway 2 in Nebraska’s Panhandle.


Conversely, it’s hard to even imagine the number of hours I have spent driving on the interstate. In fact, I’ve spent more than 40 hours on interstates on three separate trips out west in just the past two months. While I’m thankful that I can cover 500 or more miles in just one day of driving, it seemed like it was time to actually enjoy some of those hours, so I steered onto Highway 26 and headed east to meet up with Highway 2. Had I chosen the interstate, I would have been surrounded by other vehicles for most of the trip. On this trip, however, there were times that I went 15 to 20 minutes without seeing another car. Rather than speeding down the interstate with white knuckles, while grumbling about orange construction cones and slow drivers in the fast lane, I felt like I was sitting in my recliner enjoying the scenery around me.


Ironically, we left Scottsbluff in dense fog, so we didn’t see any of the amazing natural formations just east of town, and then it rained. In fact, it rained for much of the first three hours of the trip, and then intermittently as we neared Omaha. Obviously, that wasn’t how I imagined the trip would go. However, even those less-than-ideal conditions didn’t rattle my inner peace.


Because the two-lane highway required less attention and evoked far less agitation than the interstate, I was able to enjoy deep conversations with my wife and adult son, who were along for the ride. Whereas I typically count down miles and minutes on a long interstate drive, I finished the trip relaxed and even took a short side trip through a neighborhood that my son had recently discovered and wanted to show me.


When the pace of your life seems harried, and you feel stress creeping in, step back for a minute and consider how you can improve all of that with a simple change or two. While it’s not always possible to choose the less stressful option, when it is, you should always take the backroads home.

But, Could It Be Better?

By Mitch Arnold • July 26, 2026
When facing challenging situations, my go-to response is often “it could be worse.” It’s raining: it could be worse. We could be scooping this stuff. It’s hot outside: it could be worse. At least we have air conditioning. The “it could be worse” response is a simple and common way of putting things into perspective, summoning at least a modicum of gratitude and showing the absurdity of petty complaining. Unfortunately, it can also blind us to the potential of “it could be better.” I say it aloud frequently when I am with people, but I also mutter “it could be worse,” to myself when I am alone and struggling with my mobility. That simple phrase has brought me peace and acceptance, as I have experienced progressive physical challenges throughout most of my entire adult life. While things could definitely be worse, and I’m right to summon gratitude when negativity creeps in, I was recently reminded that sometimes things could be better, and if that’s possible, I should do everything I can to make them better. For more than 40 years, I have lifted weights five to six times per week, and that has allowed me to maintain a fairly active lifestyle, but lifting alone isn’t cutting it anymore. Despite frequent exercise, I have struggled to get around more than usual for the past year or so, and that has made my world even smaller. Despite this, I persisted with a positive attitude and told myself, “it could be worse.” Not until the discomfort and limitations began to prevent me from doing things I should be doing, like meeting friends for breakfast, did I consider the possibility that things could be better. Making sure that I realized this was my wife Lynda who had been on me to try physical therapy, since my primary physician wrote a prescription for it a year and a half ago. I resisted because, though I am positive about almost everything else, I was pessimistic about what modern medicine could do for me. I had done physical therapy as a child, and have undergone several medical procedures that did little to improve my condition and seemed to provide only frustration. How was this going to be different? But it was. After only two sessions and a daily regimen of stretching and purposeful movement over the past four weeks, plus the strength training, I have already improved my mobility. Stairs are easier and walking, less painful and troublesome. That has greatly helped my energy level, focus and confidence. Even when I fell and sprained my ankle a couple of days ago, the recovery was easier. While things could definitely be better, they could also be much worse, as they were for me a month or so ago. Had I not relented and at least considered the possibility that things could be better, I would have continued being unnecessarily limited. Are you unnecessarily limited? If you are going through a difficult period in your life – maybe your job or a relationship isn’t as fulfilling as it once was – consider the possibility that things could be better. Always lean into gratitude for what you have, but don’t let resignation obscure options for improvement.

Don’t Skimp on Experience

By Mitch Arnold • May 25, 2026
Recently, as occasionally happens when I watch the golfers on the course behind my home, I caught myself thinking about what it would be like to be out there again. Only this time, I also thought about the cost of golf, and began calculating how much I’ve saved by not golfing over the past 20-some years. Of course, I would rather golf than have the money I saved by not golfing, but due to a physical disability that increasingly limits my life, that isn’t an option. Thus, instead of fretting about something I can’t change, I comforted myself with math and tested my mastery of the positive explanatory style . With green fees, cart and the obligatory cold beverages, I estimated that each round would have cost me around $75. If I got out twice per month over five months of relatively nice Nebraska weather, I would golf approximately ten rounds per year, for a cost of $750. Multiply that by 20 years, and I’ve saved $15,000 or the cost of a pretty nice motorcycle. I used to ride motorcycles too, but haven’t been able to do that in more than 30 years. If I were still riding motorcycles, I figure that I would have probably had at least two during that time. Factoring in taxes, insurance and maintenance, I estimate that I’ve saved nearly $50,000 by not riding motorcycles for the past three decades. I also haven’t used a comb or paid for a haircut in nearly 30 years. However, unlike golf and motorcycles, that has nothing to do with my disability and everything to do with my genetics. Still, by avoiding monthly haircuts at $20 a pop, I’ve been able to save over $7000. I share this exercise with you not to try to talk you out of spending money on the things that bring you happiness, quite the opposite actually. You should absolutely do the things you love while you still can. In almost all cases, the money you spend on experiences is an investment in your life, and you owe it to yourself to get the most out of life that you can. Most of us, at some point in our lives, will lose the ability to do the things that once brought us happiness, and all that we will have left will be the memories. When that happens, we should cherish the memories of all that we have experienced, and look for other outlets to enhance our lives. Travel now fills the gaps once occupied by golf and motorcycles. With the help of my wife and some incredibly supportive friends, I’ve been able to visit some remarkable places like Charleston and Nashville, and enjoy unforgettable experiences, like a Green Bay Packers football game and the NCAA Final Four. Admittedly, travel gets a little more difficult each year, but that only increases my urgency to do more of it and enhances my gratitude of what I can still do, because I know that, some day, if I live long enough, I’ll be calculating the money I’m saving by not travelling. Television writer and producer Taylor Sheridan agrees, as you can see in this clip from the Paramount+ series, The Madison. https://www.youtube.com/shorts/tydIBHknM_s Don’t wait until everything is in order to invest in experiences. Accept the golf invitation. Buy the motorcycle. Take the trip. Prioritize making memories while you still can, because some day, those memories are going to be more valuable than whatever you have in the bank.