Every Teardrop is a Waterfall

I've never especially enjoyed running on treadmills (I have a freak-treadmill accident to thank for this). And until I went to college, beautiful year-round weather, soccer season, and a pet dog made it so that indoor running was never necessary. Now, it's just more convenient during the week.

What I hate most about treadmills is the temptation to watch the gradual countdown of your workout. When you're on that treadmill heaving for air, wishing away a side-stitch and pushing yourself to your goal, each second feels like an eternity. It's like the conveyor belt is the rapids and the clock is molasses. But then you take your eyes off the elusive prize, catch a couple scenes of whatever is playing on the television in front of you, get lost in your music, take a quick survey of your surroundings only to look back down and realize Woah, 8 minutes just passed. Only 5 more of these. It's quite motivating. And finally, when you get down to the last couple seconds, counting them down is thrilling. Apologies to my past Econ professors, but it's increasing marginal utility on this one.

Last week, I received a call from someone very near and dear to my heart. It was an SOS call in which he wanted advice on whether he should drop a class. Reason? The prospect of getting something less than an A. My response was a no-brainer on this one. If you enjoying learning the material, no way. The grade you receive in a class says little about your experience and what will stick (correlation does not mean causation). I haven't been out of college very long. Still, I don't remember the exact grade I got in each course, let alone my course line-up during each of the 8 semesters. I remember which professors I loved. I can list off my favorite and least favorite courses. But none of these criteria were shaped by letters. My grades were just milliseconds on a four-year clock.

As what I would deem the evil twin of "appreciating the small things," we're often found sweating the small stuff. Stuff that consumes us to a dangerous point in which we lose focus of the big picture.

Group brainstorming is an integral step to innovation at my company. In fact, Design for Delight, a customer-driven design process, was invented by our founder. It's all about identifying customer problems then "going broad to go narrow." This means we put every possible solution on the table no matter how silly or seemingly implausible, then narrow down the ideas to determine the best one. The worst thing you can do in this process is doubt the merit of any idea. This only derails the conversation and inhibits free-flowing innovation. The premise is that sometimes the best ideas are borne out of the craziest ones.

There is an example where designers were brainstorming how to make people work out harder at a particular gym. Someone facetiously suggested lighting the gym on fire to make people run faster. This idea was a catalyst for what was eventually implemented: a fire-house themed gym to create a fun environment where people wanted to spend more time. If there were such a thing as bad ideas, it would have prevented the gym-on-fire idea, which means the group would have never reached such an innovative decision. You have to think big before you can think about details.

How then, in our day-to-day can we make knowledgeable decisions about when to belabor and when to let go?

I once received some pretty cool advice on stressors: If you are plagued by something (meaty) that's worrying you, write it down on a calendar six months from today. Then forget about it. Until you get to  that day six months down the road. If the issue still worries you, attack it. If not, do a victory dance (Okay, I added in the victory dance part). A pretty useful proxy, if you ask me. There's no point harping on a daily basis and letting life pass you by, when sometimes, the cause of your worry will pass on its own.

This message really hit home for me. It's also pretty applicable to our day-to-day, but on a smaller timescale. As each curve ball comes toward you at full throttle, ask yourself if it will still be important tomorrow. Next week. Next month. In three months. You get the picture. Then decide the proportional amount of energy to expend, making for a more controlled and balanced lifestyle.

As we jog through our day-to-day, it's important that we don't get consumed by irrelevant minutiae. That we avoid counting down the seconds when there's an hour left. Because in the long run, doing this will only make the run feel longer, and in the worst case, prevent you from ever even reaching your destination.