I started jogging in 1998 when I was 27. Up until then, I'd done virtually nothing physical. OK, a term or so of rowing and a summer of 'boxercise' at university and a fair bit of wandering the countryside as a kid. That's it. At school, I'd been the plump, uncoordinated kid who was invariably last-pick in team sports. But, for some reason, I decided to 'get fit for the World Cup'.
Initially, I just jogged and did jumping jacks in my sitting-room. Then I started doing run-some, walk-some around the block. Gradually, I got fitter and lost weight. I felt better. I looked better. People noticed. It became what I did. At various points I've stopped, due to injuries mainly, and, when I had horses, time constraints. It's not been too bad re-establishing the habit after a break, though: once I decided to start again, I had the memories to assure me that it would get less hideous and there would be progress. Lockdown has been good for my exercise routine as I don't have to think when to schedule it into my day.
On the run when I fell over, I was listening to Sam Harris interview James Clear on his podcast. It's a pretty short episode, in Sam's terms, and well worth a listen. And it got me thinking. Doesn't everything? In fact I have too many thoughts at the moment.
The podcast. Clear says we can look at the state of our lives as the outcome of the accumulation of our habits. This is very apparent in terms of the body: defined musculature is evidence of a work-out habit; a generous belly is evidence of a certain dietary habit. But we see it in many other ways: a messy desk is evidence of the habit of not putting things away;the ability to do cryptic crossword puzzles is evidence of a habit of doing them; a neat file of receipts aligned with a computerised record of income and outgoings along with accumulated modest savings is evidence of my father's conscientious approach to money and his habitual monthly book-keeping.
So, what your life is like, and your body, and the state of your mind, owes a great deal to your habits. Do you meditate? Do you keep a diary or calendar of meetings and chores? Do you exercise, eat well, tidy up after yourself? Do you keep track of your finances?
We don't usually question whether or not we'll brush our teeth in the morning - it's a script that just plays itself out after breakfast. If we can train that to become automated, we can train in a lot of other stuff. If we want to. And small habits can gain a certain momentum. Start for walking five minutes a day and soon that's ten, fifteen, and before you really know, an hour is viable. Small habits compound on each other. That positive feedback loop contrasts with the negative feedback loop: you feel a bit unfit, so you struggle to exercise because you're embarrassed, you get less fit and less inclined to attempt to move and in the end the eating becomes the solution.
Habits can often, it seems, form as solutions to frequently occurring problems. I feel stressed so I vape and then I feel a bit better and so I do it again and again and again. But it's not the only solution on offer. I could do twenty jumping jacks and get the same benefit. Or I could eat chocolate or drink wine. Or I could have a two minute breathing space or stroke my cats and throw their toys for them. I fall into the vaping as it's easy - and habitual. Not to mention the nicotine. Ultimately, my habit is not the best one and it is my responsibility to change that. First, it's necessary to be aware of my habit and second it's up to me to choose something else - and put it into practice.
Behaviours have multiple outcomes over time. Most bad habits have an immediate positive outcome - tasty chocolate cake - but a bad long-term outcome. For good habits, it's often the reverse. The first trip to the gym is not fun. The first month is pretty shit. You don't look very different and everything aches. But in six months, a year, ten years, the pay off is far better. It's hard not to prioritise the pleasure of an immediate outcome. It's hard to pay costs now.
The problem is all the harder because there's a two-fold detraction: not only is the goal some distance off in the future, but also, when you're panting, sweating and your legs are aching, the process is not that appealing either. In an ideal world, though, the process itself becomes pleasurable because you are doing something that you have chosen, that benefits you and that you have made habitual. Harris suggests the choice of how you define the goal is important. So, you decide to run a marathon. It's hard to get there. You do. Then you stop running. Within a few months you are a couch potato again with a story of having run a marathon. But consider this alternative: you set the goal of running a marathon and, in the process, you start to feel that you are a runner. Now, if you make the marathon or not, you have this new concept of yourself as a runner, and so you keep running. Setting that kind of goal is far more helpful.
This is summarised by Clear as: change the inputs and the outputs will look after themselves. If you have a cluttered house, making a concerted huge effort and cleaning it out will give you a tidy house. For now. But if you don't change your messy habits and tendency to hoard, then it'll be just as cluttered a few weeks or months down the line. The things you repeat, the systems you run, bring you to the place where you are. So the systems are what we need to address.
Nonetheless, he does say that goals can be useful: they create clarity (you know where you want to go) and they help you filter. By this he means that if someone offers you an experience or a project, you can consider if it aligns with your goal and make a decision whether or not to take it up on that basis. Aligning yourself by goals can be beneficial. Habits, he says, are lifestyles to be lived, not finish lines you cross. Every action you take is a vote for the type of person you want to be. Writing a sentence doesn't make you a writer, but it's a vote for that self-narrative. Once you have enough evidence built up, over the course of six months or a year, you start to feel like a writer. Then it's easy to carry on. When you are able to assign an identity to yourself (I am a runner, a reader, a meditator or whatever), the activities are not habits or chores but acting as the person you want to be, reinforcing a desired identity.
Behaviours can be tied to a certain environment. Like the tooth-brushing. In the same way, a habit of sitting to watch Netflix may be tied to the sofa at 7pm. You sit on the sofa in the evening and Netflix is just the 'right' thing to do. Breaking out of that can be hard. So you try to change the environment. For example, I don't buy snack foods. If I want a snack, well, there are carrots in the fridge. During lockdown, I have created the habit of exercise after breakfast (there's no choice - it plays out after tooth-brushing in the same semi-automatic fashion) and meditating before feeding the dog. These decisions do not have to be made on a day to day basis. They are taken as read.
Clear made the important point that randomness and chance throw a spanner in the works. Let's be honest here, because these kind of tracts can suggest that personal glory is only a to-do list and an application of grit away, those who've inherited the worst aspects of inequality in a distinctly unequal neoliberal capitalist society, who've suffered from a failing educational system and had a background lacking in any guidance, hope or support are not going to rocket out of injustice on the back of a tidy desk and a regular exercise regime. Our lives cannot be entirely self-determined. But we do have control in making good choices and developing good habits, which, according to Clear, increasing the surface area of positive behaviours and thus making bad luck somewhat less destructive.
I'll take anything that decreases the impact of bad luck right now.
Comments