The September Trap

There is an uber capable, Goggins level disciplined, Rip Van Winkle well-rested version of me who is about to take over my life.

He wakes up before the alarm.

He exercises systematically, drinks his water, meditates every morning, eats his fiber and 1 gram of protein per pound of ideal body weight, and has never heard the phrase “pizza and beer”.

His inbox is at zero. His house is organized and dust free. His finances are immaculate. He reads philosophy before bed and never scrolls on the phone.

Most importantly, he starts Monday.

Or September 1st.

Whichever comes first.

This super human is Future Me, and frankly, the guy has an incredible work ethic considering he only exists on paper. His 2 best friends are Randall Stevens and Harvey the Rat.

September Is the Other January

There is something about the end of summer that makes us believe reinvention is imminent.

Maybe it comes from years of going back to school. New notebooks. New teachers. New schedules. Freshly sharpened pencils.

Decades later, September still feels like a reset button.

Summer is ending. Vacations are wrapping. School buses are back on the roads. Football is starting. Pumpkin spice has begun its annual assault of everything edible in America.

It feels like time to get serious again.

So, we make plans.

September Me is going to meal prep every Sunday.

September Me is going to exercise five days a week.

September Me will finally start that side business.

September Me will meditate.

Journal.

Read.

Budget.

Declutter.

Call his mother more often.

Possibly even learn Spanish his free time.

Quite the ambitious month.

The problem is that when September arrives, we arrive with it.

Same person.

Same job.

Same responsibilities.

Same unpredictable life.

Same desire for a calzone when Wednesday has been particularly Wednesday like.

We Keep Designing Lives for Imaginary People

This is one of the strangest things we do when trying to change our behavior.

We create plans for ourselves under ideal conditions.

Then we try to live those plans under actual conditions.

Of course I can work out for an hour, cook dinner from scratch, meditate for twenty minutes, read thirty pages, journal, prepare tomorrow's lunch, and get eight hours of sleep. Of course I can...

On a Tuesday with absolutely nothing else happening.

Unfortunately, Tuesdays have a disturbing and inconvenient tendency to contain life.

A meeting runs late.

Someone (everyone) needs something.

The car makes a noise that sounds expensive.

You're tired.

Dinner didn't get planned.

Your motivation caught a one way flight without leaving a forwarding address.

Suddenly, that beautiful routine you created on Sunday evening begins to collapse like the 2012 Reds by Wednesday afternoon.

Then comes the familiar conclusion:

I need to be more disciplined.

Maybe.

But maybe the problem isn't discipline.

Maybe the plan was built for someone who doesn't exist.

Plan for Wednesday You

Increasingly interesting is what some folks call the minimum effective dose of positive change.

What's the smallest version of the behavior that still moves us in the direction we want to go?

Not the perfect workout. The workout you'll actually do.

Not the perfect morning routine. The morning routine that survives a bad night's sleep.

Not the elaborate nutrition plan. The handful of choices you can still make when life gets chaotic.

Not writing three brilliant articles this week.

Maybe just writing one.

The goal isn't to lower our standards until nothing is required of us.

It's to build habits sturdy enough to survive contact with reality.

Because anybody can create a wellness plan for Ideal Sunday Afternoon You.

The real test is whether it works for Wednesday at-5:47-p.m. You.

That person is tired.

That person has had enough.

That person is staring into the refrigerator hoping dinner will somehow materialize from the ether.

Build the plan for that person.

September Doesn't Need a New You

There's nothing wrong with using a new season as an opportunity to reset.

I actually like it.

But perhaps we can resist turning September into another referendum on whether we're disciplined enough, productive enough, healthy enough, lean enough, or far enough along.

You don't need to become September You.

You just need to make life a little easier for the person who's actually going to live it.

Pick one thing.

Make it realistic.

Make the next good choice easier.

And when you inevitably have a bad Tuesday or an extremely Wednesday Wednesday, start again without turning it into a character assessment/assisination.

As for Future Me?

I'm sure he's doing wonderfully.

Heard he's already a scratch golfer and fluent in Spanish.

Take this question with you:

Am I building routines for the person I wish I was? Or the person who actually has to execute them?