A Lesson in Joy Investment: Why I'll Never Buy Cheap Rollerblades Again

We all have those moments of delicious anticipation—when a friend's text lights up our phone with an invitation to something that feels like pure possibility. When my girl asked if I wanted to go rollerblading on Miami Beach at sunset, my body practically answered before my brain could. YES.

The False Economy of Settling for Less

Little did I know I was about to learn an expensive lesson in the cheapest way possible. Those secondhand rollerblades I'd impulsively grabbed during the pandemic? They weren't just bad—they were a cosmic joke the universe was playing specifically on me.

While my friend effortlessly glided across the pavement like some ethereal beach goddess, I was executing what can only be described as an Olympic-level workout just to move forward. Her wheels whispered against the concrete; mine sounded like I was dragging a metal chair across a tile floor.

Eventually, drenched in sweat with my face flushed the color of the setting sun, I had to stop. "Really?" she asked, genuinely surprised. She looked like she'd just stepped out of an ad for Miami tourism—fresh-faced, barely breathing hard, practically levitating above the ground.

The Unexpected Alchemy of Finding Your Joy Triggers

Here's what fascinated me: Earlier, she'd been in one of those moods—you know the kind. The ones where compliments bounce off you and smiling feels like lifting weights with your face. But something magical happened when her wheels hit that pavement.

She. Fucking. Transformed.

Suddenly she was radiant—laughing, dancing, twirling down the beach path like she'd tapped into some secret reservoir of joy. I've seen her happy before, but this was different. This was pure, unfiltered bliss.

The Great Rollerblade Experiment: Same Activity, Wildly Different Experiences

I explained how it looked like she was floating while I was staging a one-woman CrossFit competition. Since she mentioned wanting a workout, I proposed a brilliant solution: "Let's switch skates."

The moment we did, our roles reversed dramatically. I barely moved a muscle and shot forward like I'd been launched from a cannon. I was having fun, FINALLY! Meanwhile, she disappeared into the distance behind me, suddenly struggling to gain momentum, sweat beading on her forehead.

But here's what struck me most—the smile disappeared from her face. The laughter evaporated. All that vibrant energy that had been radiating from her body just moments before? Gone. Completely gone.

I realized it was more important for me that she continue having a good time and that she deserved to enjoy her thoroughly researched and invested in rollerblades.

"Take your happy rollerblades back," I told her.

Creating Your Dopamine Menu: The Happiness Hack Everyone Needs

That evening taught me two powerful lessons:

1. We all need a "Dopamine Menu"—a curated list of activities that reliably trigger joy when we're feeling flat. When nothing else works, these are your emotional defibrillators. Rollerblading at sunset with a friend? That went straight to the top of both our lists.
2. Just because you're in the same place with someone, doing the identical activity, doesn't mean you're having remotely the same experience. My personal hell was her heavenly escape.

After she finished doing victory laps around my struggling form, we collapsed at Smith & Wollensky for hydration. I was so visibly dehydrated that the bartender took one look at my pineapple juice and water order and comped it entirely. Even in my depleted state, I slipped him $5—kindness deserves recognition, always.

The False Economy of Cheap Joy: Where Are You Settling?

Here's the truth I'm sitting with now: I cheaped out on something that could have been a consistent source of joy, and it cost me more than money—it cost me experience. Meanwhile, my friend did her research, invested in quality and received dividends in happiness.

This has me questioning: Where else am I settling for the discount version of my life? Where am I pinching pennies at the expense of potential joy?

Quality rollerblades would mean more fun, which would mean using them more often, which would mean more fitness, more endorphins, more sunset Miami moments. The math is simple, but the implications are profound.

Auditing Your Joy: What Deserves Space on Your Dopamine Menu?

What activities reliably light you up from the inside? What experiences make you forget to check your phone? When was the last time you prioritized those things with the same seriousness you give to your work deadlines or family obligations?

We get so trapped in the hamster wheel of adult responsibilities that we forget we're allowed—no, required—to experience joy. It's not a luxury; it's essential maintenance for your soul.

So tell me: What's on your Dopamine Menu? And more importantly—when was the last time you ordered from it?

Go create something delicious for yourself. The world will still be spinning tomorrow, I promise.

xoxo,

Candice