Most of the self-improvement advice I read goes something like this:
“If you want to be good at XXX you have to do XXX every single day.”
(Call it the Seinfeld Srategy or The X Effect or whatever you want, but I’m certain you’ve probably heard it before, too.)
Obviously, that makes a lot of sense. But it’s not an all or nothing proposition. I’ve read about many people working on a goal who became discouraged after they missed a day in the chain. They end up treating that missed day as a failure and falling off the wagon entirely. I’ve been there myself.
For me, it’s running. I try to lift weights and eat well but my big commitment has been to run as often as possible. Since my travel schedule is so unpredictable running has become my best option for exercising when on the road.
Before my trips I try to plan out my travel accordingly: Does the hotel have a gym? (I can use a treadmill in case the weather is unbearable.) Is there a running path nearby? What does my weekly mileage look like and will I have enough time for those runs?
That’s how I’ve approached my travel for years. I land in any given city already thinking about my run. As soon as I get to the hotel I change, stretch, and I’m out the door. Making my runs a priority always makes me feel happy and healthy and ready to give a good performance later that evening.
I’ve run over the Brooklyn Bridge and next to Niagara Falls. I’ve run down the Las Vegas Strip and along the Pacific Ocean. I’ve run trails in Pittsburgh and beaches in Florida, mountains in California and roads in the heartland.
Sometimes I have to run on a treadmill. Sometimes I have to run slower when I’m tired or shorter distances when I don’t have much time to spare. Sometimes my iPod isn’t charged and I run to the sound of my own thoughts. Sometimes I run on a track and sometimes I run around the parking lot of my hotel just to be outside.
It doesn’t matter. I don't understand when someone says their run was “boring” or the treadmill is “horrible”. What a gift it is to be able to move; to have two working legs that bound effortlessly through each stride, pushing against the ground and carrying me forward to each glorious mile. For me, running is a celebration of life. It’s self-expression that lets me say “I’m alive and I get to run.”
When I’m tired from an early flight or several long days of travel in a row, I try to remind myself that I get to run. I repeat the mantra in my head if my morning is particularly challenging.
I get to run.
I wake up as my flight lands and grab my bag from the overhead compartment, sleepily muttering to myself, I get to run.
When I retrieve my luggage at baggage claim I’m thinking about how lucky I am that I get to run.
I turn the key in my rental car, sipping my third cup of coffee. I get to run.
I check into my hotel, change into running clothes, stretch, smile, and head out the door. Finally, I get to run.
I’ve been on a hot streak all year long. I haven’t missed a workout and haven’t missed a mile. I’ve run 5Ks, 10Ks, 10 milers, and even a Half Marathon. Plus, I’ve worked on my speed, hills, and more. I even prioritized stretching when my mileage increased - something that has been a challenge for me in the past. So you can imagine my utter disappointment two and a half weeks ago when I fell down the stairs and dislocated my shoulder.
One of my first thoughts was "Fuck, what about running? I won’t be able to run.”
After the initial shock and pain subsided and I returned home from the ER, I was slightly depressed for a few days. I couldn’t move much and had to stare at the other runners in Chicago from my apartment window. At my doctor’s recommendation I had to skip a race I’d been building up to for 8 weeks.
My streak was broken. I was crushed.
A few days passed and I got my head on straight. I kept up with my physical therapy exercises and started biking at home. Then last week my therapist said I was doing so well that I could go out for a run last weekend. I did - and it was incredible.
I bundled up - it’s already getting brutally cold here in Chicago - and hit one of my favorite loops. I avoided the steps I’ve tripped over before and the curb that caused an ankle sprain last year. I felt sluggish and uncomfortable. I couldn’t help but to constantly think about my shoulder and worry that any given step might dislodge it and send me back to the hospital.
But after a half mile I stopped worrying and my old self took over. I get to run.
Each uncomfortable, plodding step was a reminder that I was back outside, doing my favorite thing. Each bead of sweat fell in slow motion as I ran along the beautiful shore of Lake Michigan. I felt my feet contact the ground and made a point to remember that feeling. One day I won’t get to feel that any more, but now - now I get to feel it, weeks before I thought I’d get to feel that again. And what a glorious feeling!
I’ve run two more times since then and am starting to feel like my old self. There’s a gaping two week hole in my calendar but I don’t care. There are plenty of gaps along the way but I keep lacing up my shoes and hitting the path. Each time I do, I end a string of empty days and start a new streak. And I have way more successful streaks than empty ones.
The truth is the unbroken chain is a noble but ultimately unlikely result. Things happen. Life gets in the way. Mistakes are made. Every once in a while you’re going to forget to do your daily push-ups or be too busy to write your daily word goal. It’s bound to happen sooner or later.
I try to approach it differently. I think of successful days as “Drops In A Bucket”. For every day I accomplish my goal, the bucket gets a little more full. Over time I may miss days or possibly even weeks, but hopefully I’m able to use a majority of my days to keep adding those drops. And when I look back my metaphorical bucket is way more full than when I began.
I love looking back on my year and seeing that I ran 265 out of 365 days or realizing that I accomplished my writing goal on more days than I forgot to write. Those are huge wins. My running and writing buckets are getting full to the brim.
Most advice I read is like those "One Size Fits Most” hats you see in stores. They don’t work for me. I’m a little taller and bigger than the average person and, as much as I wish they were, it inevitably doesn’t work for me.
It’s important to remember that what works for others more than likely might not work the same way for you. So know that when you see that viral TED Talk on productivity or hear about the work habits of insanely successful people, you have to take it with a grain of salt.
Seinfeld was getting paid really well to write every single day. Olympians get to run every day because it’s their job. For the rest of us, we have to make our goals work with our schedules and be content with our individual results. You may wish you were working harder or had more time but always remember that it’s a gift just to be filling our buckets up at all.
Other Thoughts:
I saw “The Irishman” the other night. It was extraordinary but at three-and-a-half hours(!) long I can’t help but wonder if Scorsese’s idea of what cinema should be isn’t suitable for today’s audiences. No one around us had the attention span to make it more than 20 minutes without checking their phones, talking, or going to the restroom. It’s a real shame because the movie was phenomenal.
Currently Reading: “Digital Minimalism” by Cal Newport
It has already snowed twice in Chicago! I’m not ready for this…
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