Latest column: Running Santas!

Here’s one of the things I love about life: It’s completely and totally unpredictable.

You can plan your routine. You can plan your meals. You can set out tomorrow’s clothes every night of the year. It doesn’t matter. You never know what the next day will bring.

From the minor surprises of everyday life (“Mommy, look! I cut my hair!”) to the moments that make memories (“Will you marry me?”), there’s a certain excitement in not knowing exactly what’s going to happen next.

Seven years ago, I’m sitting across from my son’s new nurse practitioner. She’s patiently checking his ears for an infection while he screams on my lap. And I think to myself, “Boy, is she good. We are coming back to this woman.”

Two years ago, I’m sitting across from a stranger in my two-year-old’s PAIIR (Parents Are Important in Rochester) class thinking, “Hmm. She’s wearing cool shoes.”

Three days ago, I’m standing between these two women — who I now know as Lisa and Stephanie — dressed in a bright red Santa suit and flowing white beard. We’re surrounded by swarms of identically dressed Santas — each of us making our debut in the inaugural “Running of the Santas.” And we are, of course, laughing all the way. (There’s something about 500 Santas running down the street that ups the jolly ante.)

Now, I couldn’t have predicted seven years ago that my sons’ nurse practitioner would become my friend. I didn’t know two years ago that the woman with the cool shoes at PAIIR would end up being so fun. And as recently as six weeks ago, I certainly didn’t expect to be running down Minneapolis’ Nicollet Mall in a Santa suit while a crowd cheered me on.

But that’s life. The person standing in front of you in line at the grocery store might be your next friend. The next song on the radio might be your favorite. The next page in this newspaper might advertise tomorrow’s big adventure.

Fabulous, unpredictable opportunities are everywhere. You just have to show up, sign up, and, sometimes, help make them happen.

Of course, unpredictability isn’t always positive. Some of the worst things that happen in our lives can’t be predicted. On the way to the “Running of the Santas,” Lisa, Stephanie and I stopped at a hospital in St. Paul to visit my friend and college roommate, Becky.

Two weeks ago, Becky and her husband dropped their kids off at their church for a Parents’ Night Out event and headed to the gym for a workout. After warming up with a one-mile run, they headed to the weights. And then it happened: Becky became weak, nauseous and felt a horrible pain in her head. An aneurysm had burst in her brain.

When she arrived at the gym that night, Becky could never have predicted how the night would end. And she can’t predict exactly what the next days will bring. None of us can.

But Becky says that her experience has a silver lining. “I am just so thankful to be alive,” she told me. “I am so lucky.”

When I entered her hospital room this week, I expected to leave heavy-hearted. But, instead, seeing Becky filled me with hope and gratitude. And that, my friends, was gloriously unpredictable.