Tag: exercise

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.

Let’s Go For A Walk and Talk: Experiments in a Creative Series.

Posted on by Sarah K Peck

Point Reyes, California. Photo by Sarah Peck

“Modern literary theory sees a similarity between walking and writing that I find persuasive: words inscribe a text in the same way that a walk inscribes space. In The Practice of Everyday Life, Michel de Certeau writes, ‘The act of walking … is a process of appropriation of the topographical system on the part of the pedestrian, it is a special acting-out of the place … and it implies relations among differentiated positions.’ I think this is a fancy way of saying that writing is one way of making the world our own, and walking is another.”

— Geoff Nicholson, The Lost Art Of Walking.

Walking is critical to thinking, yet we are an increasingly sedentary society. Let’s move, think, wander. There is language and brilliance in movement, in walking and exploring. 

Or, perhaps as Austin Kleon says: “You are a mashup of what you let into your life.”

This past year, I designed an event series around spending time walking and talking with a small group of people in San Francisco (and expanded to Boulder, Colorado for a special session with the Bold Academy). The purpose of the Walk + Talk series was to explore different conversations and new spaces, as well as to test an idea that I’d been mulling over for some time: That walking (and movement) are critical to thinking, and that a walk can enable more vulnerable and in-depth conversations in ways that sitting and talking don’t always do.

For each event, I put together a set of ideas loosely related to a particular topic (with suggested readings and prompt questions), but certainly allowed for people to be free to wander off point and engage in their own imaginations.

Over the past dozen events, there have been several emerging themes and realizations. There are several reasons why walking is conducive to better thinking, from the positioning of our bodies in space, the the idea of a destination, to the elevation of our heart rates to 100-110 beats per minute. When you design scenarios that enable trust–and walking with friends can be designed to create a space of safety and exploration–the ideas and innovations and possibilities that result can be astounding. And sometimes, you just need to walk it out. Just as the peripatetic philosophers did years ago, let’s engage in a short walk and ask good, hard, interesting questions.

I believe in the importance of conversation and wandering and connectivity, and I’m exploring a theory that movement is essential for unlocking the thinking in our minds. I also want to create a space for respectful, fearless conversations, idea exchange, and explorations. Particularly or equally important was the group curation–I invited minds that I admired, thought leaders and people willing to be vulnerable and inquisitive; and kept the size small enough to create space for long-form conversation.

The fact that we’re creating a small but growing group of philosopher-wanderers who gather to muse about the future of the world, modern issues, and other topics at hand makes me incredibly excited. Each walk, a new theme is put forward, with suggested reading passed around in the group.

If you’re in San Francisco, ask about next event or email me to find out more–I tend to keep the groups very small, so space is limited.  The idea, however, is free. Walking and talking are inherently human activities and no one owns them, and I’ll be posting the reading sets for people to borrow on this website (please, take them!). If you find more readings or articles related to movement, thinking and consciousness, please send them my way. The world needs more walkers and philosophers. (And as a bonus: if you come up with your own reading set, send it my way and I’ll use it for a future group). 

Thoughts and musings for the afternoon:

  • How often do you take a walk?
  • Are you a solitary walker or a group walker?
  • When do you do your best imagining and thinking?
  • Is thought and movement related? How is movement important (and critical) for innovation and creativity?
  • Do you wander in places that are familiar or unfamiliar?

“It’s not about where an adventure ends, because that’s not what an adventure is about. Let’s get going.” – Matt Damon (In the movie “We Bought A Zoo”).

Tell me your story in the comments! I’ll be writing more on movement and consciousness in several future posts, and I’d love to hear from you.