Habits

In the fall of 2017 I got the urge to investigate self-improvement in a methodical and purposeful way after reading The Happiness Project by Gretchen Rubin, an Ivy League educated attorney and former Supreme Court law clerk who gave all that up to become a writer. I wanted no part of any self-help, psychobabble, New Age flavored literature. I decided to come up with a plan based on scientific studies of practices that would improve my life physically and mentally. Some of the other books I read include:

By January 1, 2018, I was ready. I had a list of goals, spreadsheets, apps for tracking various habits and a folder of bookmarks on the idea of the quantified self. My primary goals were:

  • Average walking four miles a day for the entire year, counting only purposeful walks and not steps taken in the course of the day.
  • Get a minimum of 10,000 steps every day
  • Close the rings on my Apple Watch activity tracker every day requiring at least 30 minutes of exercise, 800 calories burned and no prolonged sitting over 12 hours each day
  • Meditate every day in a sitting position, alone using a timer
  • Read 52 books
  • Deadlift and squat 400 lbs

Out of pure stubbornness, I hit every one of those goals. I once had to go for a walk during a hurricane, but I managed to get my steps that day. I was blessed with good health the entire year, maintaining a healthy weight and dealing with my arthritis successfully.

It was fun, and I am glad that I did it, but it was not the happiest year of my life, which is what I was going for. It wasn't that it was bad, not at all, but it didn't elevate me to a new plane of existence or anything. It was a series of tasks that took self-discipline and dedication, not much different than other challenges I'd given myself through cycling or long-distance hiking. Wonder Woman was her usual awesome self. She never complained about the hours I spent walking or behind closed doors on my meditation pillow or with my nose stuck in a book.

I continued some habits deep into 2019. It wasn't until August of that year that I broke the streak of 10,000-step days and closed activity rings. My arthritis flared up significantly in the spring. Between the uncaring attitude at my orthopedist's office and the weaponized incompetence and malevolence of my insurance provider, I dealt with untreated chronic pain for months while fighting to get the treatment I was entitled to. I ended up as depressed as I'd been in years, and bitter that creating the perfect set of habits hadn't made me immune to the black dog that has hounded me since my 20s.

I'm all for anyone doing the things I did. I believe in the benefits of exercise, meditation and mental improvement. My experience is that none of those things are miraculous cures or preventatives for the slings and arrows that life can throw at you.

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