Tag: behavior

How Do You Decide What Book to Read Next?

Posted on by Sarah K Peck

I’m the kind of person that always wants to add more books to the pile. More from Amazon, more from the library, more from the shared local bookshelf across the street in front of the coffee shop. How do I decide how many books to read this week? Which one? Help! I can’t decide! This is torture!

If I could read every (good) book ever made, I would.

In fact, I used to look forward to summer because the local library held a summer reading competition and I would try to read as many books as possible before the summer was out.

Gosh, I love books!

But, time has a way of limiting us, and I want quality over quantity.

Recently I stumbled on a great way of choosing which book to read next.

In 2017, I decided to keep a public list of every book I read and share my top 2-3 recommendations in my newsletter each month. I committed to reading more books by women, so at least half of all the books I’ll read this year will be by women. (I’m also tracking the number of books I read by people of color.)

I know that I want to read good books to recommend, and that I’ll probably have time for 2-4 books each month.

Simply by knowing that I’m writing down a list of all the books I’ve read has made me more discerning in which ones I pick up.

If this year’s reading list only has 24 books on it, which books will make the cut?

By limiting myself to two books, I’ve become more savoring of which ones to read. Sometimes having an edge increases the quality. When you choose what your boundaries are before you begin, sometimes the results are better.

And when you force yourself to decide—even if the constraints are arbitrary—deciding has power to it.

What books have you read this summer?

PS: here are my summer reading list recommendations.

The 20 Mile March

Posted on by Sarah K Peck

What does it take to be great?

In the book Good to Great, Jim Collins and his team of researchers study how some companies rise to greatness and uncover a key strategy: the 20 Mile March. They asked the question, “Why do some companies thrive in uncertainty, even chaos, and others do not?”

They analyzed companies that were 10x better than the competition, and, across all the data, realized that they had something in common.

First, imagine, for a second, that you’ve got two teams walking across America.

The first team takes the strategy of walking 40-50 miles on the good days, and resting in between.

The second team decides to walk 20 miles every day, rain or shine, injuries or no injury.

Which team wins?

Consistent, methodical actions take you further.

The team — and the companies, and the individuals — that set up consistent, methodical, repeated actions go further. They go 10x further, in fact. The “20 Mile March” became a clear differentiator between those teams that flounder or stay where they are, and the ones that rise to greatness.

The person that crosses the finish line on a big goal or dream is the person that takes consistent action, with clear performance markers, on actions that are largely within your control.

In the book, there are seven elements of a good march, and those include:

  • Clear performance markers,
  • Self-imposed constraints,
  • Appropriateness to you (or the company),
  • largely within your control,
  • Proper timeframe,
  • Designed by the individual, and
  • Achieved with high consistency.

In my work with people in my private Mastermind, we do a three-month program where people put together a monthly goal, with self-imposed constraints, over a short enough time horizon to get feedback and learn.

Now is the time to learn.

In your own practice, what is your 20 Mile March?

For me, a weekly writing habit has been the cadre, or structure, or frame that has unlocked so much more. When I show up to write, it’s not a question of when I’ll write, or how much: it’s already pre-determined that I will write.

I’ll write {this much} at {this frequency} on {these specific days}.

What’s your recipe?

The trick to a 20-Mile March is to make it something you can do repeatedly, on a consistent pattern. Often, in my personal life, I’ll try to tackle a 60-mile march and then get frustrated when I’m tired a few weeks later and (sometimes literally) can’t get up out of bed because my muscles are too sore. A 20-Mile March is something you could do every day, easily, for a year.

Some ideas of 20-Mile Marches:

  • Writing a daily, short, free-form blog on Tumblr (here’s mine; I write a log whenever I need space to free-form think out loud)
  • Writing a weekly blog (this blog posts every Monday at 10am)
  • Writing a monthly newsletter on the 1st of every month (if you’re on my list, you’ll get the newsletter).
  • Doing a yoga practice 3 times per week
  • Simplifying to do a 5-minute yoga practice every morning
  • Emailing one new person every day for a year.
  • Weightlifting twice weekly for a year.

A 20-Mile March does not have to be a daily practice. But it does have to be a practice, and one that you dedicate to a specific time, place, and duration. The compound interest of showing up to practice with regularity is the work of mastery, and the work of moving mountains. Inch by inch, with steady practice, we become something new.

So, I’ll ask you all some of the questions I ask my Mastermind folks in our one-on-one session:

  • Are you taking clear and consistent action? Are you learning each month and building upon what you’ve learned?
  • What’s working?
  • What systems do you have in front of you?
  • What still needs to change?
  • How can you change strategies and tactics to keep showing up, piece by piece, to carve away at your dream?

PS: If you’re looking for an amazing seminar on marketing, persuasion, and creating change, I’m currently taking the inaugural session of The Marketing Seminar with Seth Godin. It’s beyond incredible; I’m likely going to take it again. The latest round of the seminar just opened for registration, July 10, 2017. Push the purple button and get a discount on the 30-day summer session.

No Excuses: How to Stop Bullshitting Yourself and up your Mental Game

Posted on by Sarah K Peck

No excuses: how to go beyond what you think is possible

It was my junior year of college, and my third year making the National team as a varsity swimmer.

We were two weeks out before the big races: the national swimming meet drew colleges like Emory, Kenyon, MIT, Williams, Amherst, and Johns Hopkins. The 3-day event is held in March in a major U.S. city every year. From the time we got back on campus in the Fall, up until this point in March, we were training. Swimming was life, and life was swimming. Training started in earnest in September, and we had 10 practices each week, often clocking in 10,000 yards of swimming on a daily basis.

I lived in the dorms, housed with three other women in a two-bedroom suite with a shared bathroom. We had access to a dorm kitchen downstairs. A brilliant thought came to mind that early day in March: why don’t I make some cookies for the team?

For however well I could swim in the water, however, I couldn’t walk on land for shit. I fell down a flight of stairs, broke my foot, and realized with panic that I’d have to go see my coach and tell him that I’d just broken my foot.

I broke my foot two weeks before the national meet and didn’t know whether or not I’d be able to swim.

I grabbed an ice pack, put in on my foot, and called my mom. “What do I do? Do you think it’ll heal by tomorrow?”

The next day, my coach looked at my foot and said, “What the hell did you do?”

“Go get in my office.”

(He said this kindly, but it was still very intimidating.)

I hobbled across the deck and went into his office and shut the door.

In his office, he asked me what happened. After a few moments, he paused, look at me, and told me that I’d have to choose.

Would I be swimming on the national team, or would I be done for the season?

“I don’t care which way you decide. But if you choose to swim on the national team—if you’re going to train these next two weeks, and get in the pool to race—I don’t want to hear another word about your broken foot until after the meet is over.”

I was wide-eyed.

But in retrospect, it was one of the kindest things he could have done.

This story—and what happens next— I dig into in detail with Steph Crowder on her podcast, Courage and Clarity. We talk about how these specific life events shape us, and the backstories behind where we are today. (I’m actually on two episodes with her: in the first, we break down how to overcome mental weakness, kill excuses, and make things happen even in shitty circumstances. In the second, we look at how to create clarity in your business through a decision-making tool I love.

But back to the story.

That day, down at the pool, when my coach made me make a decision about how I would proceed, he taught me the power of mindset and how important it is to not let an excuse build up in front of you.

I had a great opportunity to make an excuse: my foot was broken!

Sure, you can have a broken foot. But I could also hang my hat on that as a reason for why something wouldn’t work, and opt myself out mentally, before I’d even given myself a chance.

The true test of perseverance and resilience, the people who make it through their 20 Mile March are the ones who look at that moment when they COULD make an excuse and they say, “I’m choosing to do it anyways.”

(For those worried about my foot, I went to the doctor and they said I wouldn’t cause any further damage to it by using it in swimming. If I was a runner, it might have been another story.)

The person who wins, the person who makes it happen isn’t the person who has some magical better circumstances than you.

No one has perfect circumstances. I realized, as I looked around the pool, that everyone has something—tired, bad night of sleep, social stress, and more—and the ones who find a way to do it in spite of, and alongside, all that’s going on, are the ones that rise to the top. When we make excuses, we’re just making excuses.

My coach gave me a gift: the gift of letting this major hurdle go. Every day I iced and wrapped my foot, and in the pool, I spent time practicing how to do a new swim start, a dive, with my foot in a different position.

And, I realized: my foot didn’t hurt too much—the swelling made it somewhat protected and wrapped. And as a sprinter, the adrenaline fueled my body before I had even a fraction of a second to register that there was pain.

I went on to swim in 17 different races across three days. By the end of the meet, I earned three All-American trophies and placed in the top 16 in the nation for swimming alongside my teammates.

And I had a broken foot.

You’re either strengthening the muscle that makes excuses, or you’re strengthening the muscle that does it anyway.

###

Huge thanks to Steph Crowder for inviting me to join her on the Courage and Clarity podcast. Listen to the full story on Episode 31 here: https://www.courageandclarity.com/podcast/31 . If you’d like to hear more stories like this, check out the entire podcast with amazing courage stories and their badass business wisdom.

Want More Connection?

Posted on by Sarah K Peck

I have a friend who seems to run into people he knows everywhere he goes. He seems like the most connected person I know.

I laughed and asked him how he does it.

“How do you connect to so many people?” 

He was at the airport and bumped into a friend from far away.

He said it’s not really a trick. It’s not like he knows more people than anyone else.

“I look up,” he said.

“I walk around and I actually take the time to look at people’s faces. I smile. Instead of looking looking, at my phone, I like to look around. When I do that, I see people walking by, and I take time to enjoy the crowd that I’m in.”

Most people just walk around looking down at their feet, or looking down at their phones. Even if they are up, looking around, they might be too full with things in their mind to actually see what’s in front of them.

We look inside of our phones and our devices for connection, and miss the world outside.

Look up, look up.

When you look around, catch someone’s eye.

Smile a bit. Be the person who gives a twinkle and a laugh. And then, when you see what’s in front of you, you might just bump into someone you know.

An Answer For Everything

Posted on by Sarah K Peck

There’s an answer for everything. Every choice, every decision, every reason for being.

When you feel the impulse to dance, or wiggle, or scream, or wring your hands in frustration.

When you think you don’t want to go to a meeting, when you hate getting on the subway, when you want to quit working with a client, or a job.

“Because I want to,” is a perfectly acceptable reason.

Beyond acceptable. It is, at the root, one of the only reasons.

“Because I want to.”

“Because I don’t want to.”

It’s an answer for everything.

8 Essays on Routine, Pattern, and Habit Change (The October Monthly Round-Up)

Posted on by Sarah K Peck

October was focused on the idea of Routine: what is it, how does it show up (or not show up) in your life, and when is it useful? From re-thinking what you spend your time thinking about, to parsing out time differently, to changing up your behaviors in an experimental fashion, it was a good month to focus on the habits that get us more of what we want. Read on to see a round-up of this month’s essays.

Here is a round-up of all the posts on this topic from the last month:

  • Default to Finish: Co you let things slide, or do you finish them? There’s nothing quite as suffocating as letting an idea slowly die. How can you default to finishing behaviors?
  • Eliminate the Thinking: Is everything worth thinking about equally?
  • Change it Up: Consider your life as a series of experiments. Do you change up your patterns often enough?
  • Don’t Use The Full Hour: The clock has wreaked enough havoc on our lives. It’s time to take back control of that minute hand.
  • My Routine: A glimpse into what my present-day looks like, and where I began when thinking about this idea of “routine.”

Plus a few relevant posts from the archives:

Also! If you’re interested in routine and habits, and you haven’t registered for the live seminars I’m teaching yet, go sign up today.

I’m teaching a class on November 9th all about rethinking how you schedule the time in your day and week, and a second class on November 17th all about how to get better at gmail (and email). Readers of my blog can enjoy a discount of 40% off the ticket price with the coupon code SARAH.

Readers of my blog can enjoy a discount of 40% off the ticket price with the coupon code SARAH. The classes will be recorded and a replay link will be sent to you after the live class is finished.

Eliminate the Thinking

Posted on by Sarah K Peck

One of my goals is to find a way to minimize the amount of thinking I have to do about any particular subject. My brain is really addicted to thinking. It’s one of its favorite things to do.

But there’s a certain amount of useless thinking that happens about things that don’t need as much brain time on them. For example, thinking every single day about when I’m going to exercise and what type of exercise I’m going to do takes away brain space from thinking about other things.

If I wake up in the morning and I avoid a workout, then I’ve just added that to-do into the docket of things for my brain to ruminate about:

I ask myself at 11am: will you workout now? Okay, there’s a class at 12-noon. But wait — you have a call at 1pm. So later? Yeah, maybe 3pm? Oh, but I just ate. So let’s go at 5pm? Oof, yeah, I’m tired. Damnit. I missed today. Maybe tomorrow.

There are things worth spending brain energy on and things not worth spending brain energy on.

Thinking every day (every day!) about when I’m going to work out is not something that I want to dedicate time to.

All it does it take away brain space from thinking about other things. I want—I crave—this time to go deep into writing. To work on the next chapter of my book. To carve away the mental clutter and focus on work that matters.

And if that is what I truly want, then I need to ruthlessly eliminate all of these other, unnecessary, periods of thinking.

So for workouts, as an example, I have a very boring schedule that I stick to (which I’ll write about another time). It’s dreadfully boring for my vata-type, eager-to-think, overworking mind. There’s no excitement in planning and dreaming and scheming about fancy workouts, and this is by design. I need to reel in my analytical mind and give it different puzzles to focus on.

The schedule is what will let me actually succeed.

When I don’t schedule my workouts, I only end up exercising 2-3 times per week.

When I stick to the schedule, I end up going 3-6 times per week. There’s a very clear advantage to the boring routine.

The criteria for the schedule has to be:

  • So easy I don’t have to think about it
  • Incredibly simple to remember
  • Harder to not do than to do
  • Start as small as possible
  • Ideally linked to some behavior or habit I already do.

With exercise, here’s what this looks like as an example:

I drop my kid off at daycare every day. Same time, same place, gotta do it. (Make it linked to an existing behavior).

So I put my sneakers and pants on, and every day after I drop him off, I exercise. (Wednesdays are my break day: I do this weekdays Monday, Tuesday, Thursday, and Friday.)

It’s easier to get to the park and exercise when I’m already in my clothes and I’ve already left the house. (Make it so easy I don’t have to think about it.)

I do it every day. (Harder to not do than to do.)

When I first started that schedule, I only did it for 15 minutes each time.(Start as small as possible.)

Don’t think, just do.

When I think about exercising, all I’m doing is thinking about exercising.

When I set up a habit and a routine that’s simple enough to do the same way every time, I spend more time exercising than thinking.

Eliminate the thinking wherever you can.

How might this apply to other areas of your life? Leave a note in the comments below.

Missing A Day

Posted on by Sarah K Peck

I woke up with a start at 11:30pm on Saturday night. I didn’t post anything today!

I had forgotten to post: so many things swept up to take hold of the day. New York got a blizzard with 22 inches of snow. Alex and I hiked through it to take a 16-hour weekend class on birthing, massage, postpartum, and newborn care. My head was full. My feet were tired.

I didn’t write.

So began the conundrum:

Lying in bed, do I get up and rush to the computer? Do I stay up late, disrupt my routine, insist that the deadline is more important than all else?

Or—and I think arguably this is harder for me—do I find a way to relax into the moment, let it go, and begin anew the next day?

I decided to try to skip posting. My head frantically came up with things to write and say while I was in bed. I exhaled and said, tomorrow. Tomorrow. We can begin again tomorrow.

It is okay to be imperfect.

The challenge for me, and I don’t know how many other people feel this way as well, is not letting one lapse cloud and cluster my judgment. Would missing a day throw me off kilter? Would I backslide and decide that not writing was easier, and I’d just skip a few days, who cared?

The next day, the practice was as follows: rise and wake, and begin again. Every day, we begin again.

Don’t frantically try to “catch up” and write the past essays, or write through every single prompt. Start today, with one essay, with one post.

Every day is a new day.

Here we are.

We begin, again.

Beating Procrastination: 14 Days In, Missed My First Deadline

Posted on by Sarah K Peck

I missed my deadline this morning — I usually like to have something scheduled to publish for 6 AM each day.

What I’ve been doing is writing during the day and scheduling the post for the following day so I don’t stress on any single day.

But, like promised, I missed a day. Caught a cold on Tuesday night and was in bed most of Wednesday, and today, Thursday… there’s no essay. Nothing pushed out at 6 AM. The only thing that happened this morning was a lot of sneezing and nose-blowing. 

It’s strange, I can feel the stereotypical methods of procrastination sinking in, even while sick. It’s like a sly troll, cuddling in bed with me, green slithery arms wrapping themselves up in my bed sheets. “You already missed your deadline, what does it matter now?” and “It’s 9 AM? You can wait until 10 or 11 AM. There’s no urgency anymore.”

“I mean, you already missed your deadline. Who’s waiting up on you?” 

Then, even more dangerous thoughts: “Well what would happen if you just missed a day? It’s not like it really matters to anyone if you keep up this schedule. You’re just doing this for yourself. It’s an arbitrary deadline.”

Yes, it’s an arbitrary deadline. Yes, it’s “just” a small goal I have for myself, to practice writing every day. And yes, it would be okay — the world would get on, I would get on — if I missed a day.

And if I were so sick I couldn’t move, I couldn’t think, I couldn’t do anything — sure, I could take a break.

But I just spent an hour scrolling on Facebook, another hour staring at a wall, and I answered a few work emails. Bed is doing me good, and I’m getting plenty of rest — but am I really “too sick” to write? 

Wait, would you look at that.

I just wrote something.

Have A Point of View

Posted on by Sarah K Peck

In our fear of being wrong, or looking stupid, or losing out on opportunities — we waffle. We waver. We fail to make decisions.

We try to make decisions that leave all the options open. We’ll try it all, rather than pick a single dish. We’ll date as many people as possible, rather than cultivate deeper relationships. We’ll rack up followers and acquaintances and friends, rather than spend time with one person through the difficult and exciting times.

Action and decision-making requires having an opinion.

When you have an opinion, you say, “I believe THIS about the world,” and “I think that it works better when we do it like THIS.”

This requires you to take a stand, to think about the consequences of a decision, and make a choice even when all the information isn’t present.

Decision making isn’t easy to do, but waffling isn’t necessarily an easier answer. It may feel cozy for a while, until you realize that not making a decision costs you as well:

When you don’t make a decision to date one person, you date nobody.
When you don’t pick what food to eat, you end up without dinner.
When you try to give your customers everything you want, you fail to differentiate yourself as a business. 
When you don’t decide what to focus on, you’re 55 and still don’t know what to do with your life. 

Decision-making seems like it will hurt. But not making a decision doesn’t actually lessen the pain.

What’s your point of view? What do you think is important?